Waiting for Normal (11 page)
O
n December 1 I had one of those days when everything goes from good to bad and back again all day long—almost like my life was on a switch.
In the morning, I got up on my own. Mommers was still sleeping. There was one last slice of the extra thick raisin bread left—my favorite. I put it in the toaster. While the toaster hummed, I dug through the clean laundry pile looking for the one pair of my underwear that still had good elastic in the legs—the pair that didn’t creep up all day. My toast got stuck and burned while I was still looking for the underpants. I had to carry the toaster outside (I was still in my bathrobe) because it was smoking like a factory. A trucker was sitting there at the light and he started laughing when he saw me.
“Oh big deal,” I mumbled to myself. “Burnt toast happens to everyone.” When I came back inside, I found the good pair of underpants stuck—static cling—to the sweater I was planning to wear. That was double good. I was saved from an all day wedgie
and
the embarrassment of showing up at school with a pair of panties stuck to my back.
Next, I turned the calendar to December. That was good too. I like the first day of just about anything. But there in the trailer, on the first day of December, our calendar fell off the hook and hit the floor with a loud crack. Mommers yelled from her room for me to be quiet. I tiptoed into the bathroom and what do you know—I’d gotten my first period. I had to look twice but there it was, a little pinkish red splotch right in the middle of my good underpants. “Oh my gosh!” I whispered to myself. For some reason the whole idea of being that grown up made me grin—just for a second. I went on whispering to myself. “Gotta do something here. Gotta take care of this. Oh, and I ruined my only good pair of underpants! Darn!”
I went to the door of Mommers’ bedroom and whispered her name.
“No, no, no!” She pulled a pillow over her head. “Be quiet!” she moaned. She lay still then, like she’d gone back to sleep.
I went over to her and shook her shoulder a couple of times. Finally, she opened one eye and looked at me.
“Mommers, I just got my period.”
Mommers sat up and blinked. “I knew it! I was right! I knew you’d get it before Christmas! See that?”
I nodded. “Yeah. I need some stuff. Pads. And, Mommers, I
really
need new underwear. Can I get some when Dwight’s money comes? That’s soon, right? Oh, and speaking of Dwight, don’t tell him about this, okay?”
Mommers laughed. “Dwight’s so checked out. That man knows nothing when it comes to women. And you just reminded me, that money is
late
,” she added. She threw her pillow aside and rolled out of bed.
“It’s just the first of December,” I said. “It always comes around the first.”
“Yeah, well, we’ll see,” Mommers said. She went into her closet and brought out all kinds of pads. She tossed them out onto her bed. Then she called like a ringmaster at a circus, “Try one, try ’em all! Step right up, little woman!” I started laughing. “And here …” She took a second to open her dresser. “Here’s a new pair of undies, shrunken down at the fine establishment next door. Just your size!” She looped the waistband on her thumb and slingshot them at me. I grabbed the panties out of the air. They were blazing red, but pretty plain otherwise. I was glad about that. I grabbed a pad from the bed and headed for the bathroom.
“Make sure you take a few pads to school,” Mommers called after me, “You’re gonna need ’em.” I heard her yawn and flop back onto her bed.
“I know, I know,” I said.
I knew because of Helena. She’d already had a couple of periods. One day, it
surprised
her—by coming in the middle of math class.
Surprised
—that’s what Nurse Sandi had said when we’d arrived at the health office. I always figured
surprises
were things like birthday gifts, and good grades on math tests. Anyway, Helena had to keep going to see Nurse Sandi that day so her
surprise
wouldn’t turn into an accident. I bundled half a dozen pads into my backpack. Mommers had fallen back to sleep by the time I left the trailer.
School went okay that day. The only
surprise
I got was when Ms. Rivera rushed up to me in the hall first thing in the morning and said she was giving me a little solo part in the holiday concert.
“Is it a stand up in front of everyone solo?” I asked.
She laughed. “You can stay seated if that’s more comfortable for you. I want you to play a few measures in ‘I Wonder as I Wander.’ Since it’s a carol, I think the voice of your flute would be lovely for it.”
“Thanks,” I said. “It’s just that I never practice standing up.” That was only half the truth, of course. I figured if I got nervous and flubbed up, at least I’d be sitting low and no one would really be sure who the lousy flute player was.
“Can you imagine,” I said to Helena and Marissa later that day. “I’d be black on bottom, white on top and red in the face!” We started laughing.
My day seemed to be evening out by the end of school—no accidents. I stopped at the minimart, where Soula was having a better day after two bad ones.
“Seven down. One to go!” she sighed.
“We’ve got good news all around,” Elliot said. He waved a copy of the
Gazette
. I squinted and saw that it was turned back to the entertainment section.
“Rick stopped by. Good review for Numbskull Dorry’s,” he said, grinning. “Good reviews are everything in the restaurant business.”
“Weee-hah!” I said. “And I have news too. I got a solo in the holiday concert.”
“Hey, hey, hey!” Soula cheered. “Good day on the corner. Calls for a pie celebration, don’t you think?” I took my cue and put three apple pie pockets into the microwave. Elliot read the review to us, slowing over words like
unmatched
and
exquisite,
and phrases like
unadulterated goodness.
Soula made a joke that he was memorizing the entire article. He held the paper to his chest and grinned.
“Not bad for a pub, huh?” he said.
“Elliot, how come you don’t work at the restaurant with Rick?” I asked.
Soula laughed out loud, then tried to squelch it. Elliot rolled his eyes. He looked up at the ceiling and let out a long whistle. “Most couples learn that there are some things you can do together and some things you can’t.”
“Yeah?” I said.
“Tell her what you really mean,” Soula nudged.
Elliot squinted at me. “Rick and I would fight if I had my fingers in his pub biz,” he said. “Plain and simple. We can’t even hang wallpaper together unless someone else comes over to make sure we remain civil.”
“Oh,” I said. “And you just know that about each other?”
Soula exhaled a chuckle. “Well, they found out,” she said softly. Elliot nodded in agreement.
I sat there eating my apple pie, thinking about Dwight and Hannah. I thought they probably
could
hang wallpaper together. They were good together, I thought, in a way that Mommers and Dwight never had been.
We were getting into short days. The sun was way low at four o’clock when I crossed the street and climbed the trailer steps. I stopped to shake the crumbs out of the toaster, which was still sitting there from that morning. I coiled the cord and went inside. Mommers wasn’t home but I could tell she’d been there for lunch: her soup bowl was in the sink. We were still eating the turkey soup from the carcasses Mommers had brought home from the soup kitchen. The freezer was packed with it—not a bad thing.
I did the dishes and was just finishing when I heard Mommers pull up. She followed a big handled shopping bag into the trailer. She looked good shaking back her bangs. Her cheeks were pink and she smiled.
“Got something here!” She raised the shopping bag.
“Oh yeah?”
Mommers giggled. She yanked a box out of the bag and threw it onto the table. She shook the lid off and spread back the tissue paper. She drew out a long dress. It was skinny and black with big white ruffles running all around the chest. The straps were just little strings—the kind Mommers liked to wear when she had somewhere fancy to go.
“Whaddaya think?” she asked breathlessly. The dress looked like a piece of black licorice with whipped cream on top but I didn’t want to say so.
“Uh, well, where are you going?”
She cocked her head at me. “
I’m
not going anywhere.
You
are!”
“Me? Where am I going?”
“To the concert. Black on bottom, white on top!” She made a sweeping gesture with her hand.
“Uh …Mommers,” I said slowly, “isn’t that a
lady’s
dress?”
“Yeah. What are
you
?” She cocked her hip.
“W-well, but I was thinking of a skirt with tights and a turtleneck—”
“Addison! That’s boring! Go try this on! Use my room.”
I hesitated.
“Go!” She pushed the dress at me.
I did it—I wriggled into the dress. But it felt all wrong. “These ruffles make me feel like I have to keep my arms up in the air,” I called. “And it’s itchy. And my bra is showing. And I have this sort of sausage roll at my belly.”
“Let me see.”
I stepped out.
“Oh! It’s gorgeous! Suck your gut in.” She reached to give me a slap.
I grunted and adjusted a strap. I tugged on my underwear. “This isn’t gonna work.” I shook my head.
“Yeah it is. It’s perfect.” Mommers lit a cigarette and eyed me a moment.
“Mommers, everyone is wearing simpler stuff than this. It’s too fancy and too clingy,” I added.
“I think it looks great,” she said. I knew I was in major trouble. Mommers had that look on her face, that I’ve made up my mind look. I sagged against the doorjamb. How could this be happening? “Come here,” she said, taking a clip out of her hair. She pulled my hair up off my neck, twisted it and caught it up in the clip. “There,” she said. “Wow! You could be sixteen.”
“Exactly!” I said, louder than I meant to. “Mommers, I’m sorry but I don’t like the dress. Not for this concert and not for me.”
Mommers waited a few seconds, then said, “Too bad, Addison. Black on bottom, white on top. This is it.”
A knock on the trailer door saved me from whatever I might have done next. I ran for cover in the Luxury Suite. Mommers answered the door and I heard Dwight’s voice.
“Dwight!” I said. I came back out without thinking. There he was holding a big white poinsettia in his arms and an envelope between two fingers. He was looking right at me—chin on the floor.
“Whoa!” he said. And then again: “Whoa!” His eyes went huge. He looked like he was going to tip over backward. “I …uh …I ended up in Schenectady to see a supplier today and …I thought I’d bring the money by in person. You playing dress up or something?”
“Nope,” Mommers said sharply. She took the envelope from him and poked through the contents. “I bought it for her. She has a concert coming up.”
“What? Denise! Hey, you might wanna think this one through a little,” he said. He looked me up and down. “I mean, Jaysus! Jaysus!” He shook his head.
I shut my eyes.
Please let me be dressed in a huge
sweatshirt when I open my eyes
. No such luck.
“Well, she’s a
woman
now,” Mommers said.
“Mommers! Don’t!” I begged.
“A woman?” He looked back and forth between us.
“Take a wild guess, Dwight,” Mommers said, grinning.
“Mommers, you promised not to tell!”
A second ticked by. “Oh,” said Dwight. “Really? I mean,
Oh!
Wow!”
“That’s brilliant, Dwight. Can you say that again?” Mommers smirked.
“Stop it, Denise.” Dwight fumbled. “Hey, Addie, way to go, kid.” He shrugged and covered his chin with his free hand. I tried to ignore how uncomfortable he was.
“Dwight,” I pleaded. “What about the dress?” I shook my hands at my sides and thought,
Help me!
He set the poinsettia down on our table. “Uh …yeah. Yeah, Denise, I don’t think the dress is right and Addie’s uncomfortable.”
“It fits her perfectly.”
“Well, that may be true. But”—he shook his head—“Addie is a kid. She’s twelve, Denise. This is …this is …” He looked at me again, and blew a puff of breath into his bangs. “Jaysus, I don’t know what this is.”
I folded my arms across my chest and tried to stare at my feet. The dress ruffles brushed my nose. Why did Dwight have to be such a doofus?
“Addie, listen, I’m sorry,” he said. He reached to pick up my chin. I wriggled away. “I agree with you, honey. The dress is too old for you.”
“Well, I think she looks gorgeous,” Mommers concluded. “Besides, you have no say in the matter.” She turned to Dwight and gave him a straight line smile. “Do ya, now?”
That was it for me and I knew it. She was right. There was no other person in charge of me. No one to say, “Don’t make her wear that dress.”
“Just quit looking at me.” I pushed past them both and dragged myself, in my licorice dress, up into my bunk. I pulled my curtain, but not all the way.
Mommers said, “Well, look what ya did this time, Mr. Perfect Papa! Got her all upset!”
“Hey!” Dwight pointed a finger at her. “Don’t be so quick handing off the Amateur Parenting Award….” He stopped. “Ya know what, Denise? Forget it. Just forget it. I’m not even gonna go there. Addie, I’ll call you later. Oh, and Hannah sent this CD for you. She said you’d know what it is.” I heard him set it down. He peeked into my curtain. I backed up where he couldn’t see me. “I’ll call,” he repeated. Then he left.
Mommers and I didn’t talk about the dress anymore. In fact, we didn’t talk about anything at all. I changed and we ate turkey soup on toast and Mommers watched
Jeanette for the Judgment
. I had just finished my homework when Dwight called.
“Addie, I didn’t mean to embarrass you,” he said.
“I know,” I said.
“I can hardly hear you.”
I sniffed, blinked my burning eyes and tried to be louder. “I said I know.”
“I’m not used to little girls growing up. Don’t know anything about it. Mr.
Duh
, that’s me.”
“Never mind.”
“I’m gonna be at your concert, ya know? I’m bringing the Littles and Hannah too, if that’s okay with you.”
