Read A Different Kind of Normal Online
Authors: Cathy Lamb
A Different Kind of Normal (39 page)
The semifinal game was played on a weekday, in the afternoon, and both schools were busing their kids over, including their dance teams, bands, and cheerleaders. It was mobbed.
Caden wore his ripped, muscled Mid Court Mob shirt. Damini wore a gold-sequined skirt, couture from my mother, with her Mid Court Mob shirt, and the triplets dressed as bobcats. Harvey had added goblin claws, Heloise was wearing a gold coin waist chain, and Hazel slung a holster around her waist with a blue toy gun. Ethan came and I hugged him. He kissed me a few times, and it reminded me of the day before under a pile of blankets in my bedroom with a fire in the fireplace....
My mother flew in and wore a svelte black dress with an orange boa. Brooke wore a Mid Court Mob shirt like everyone else. People from our town who had known her years ago did a double take when they saw her, and then embraced her with smiles and laughter.
“I was such a hellion, in endless trouble . . .” she said, and swallowed hard, pushing back her auburn hair. “But they’re being nice, as if none of that happened and they’re glad to see me.”
“They are, but I have to warn you, sister, Martin Hooks may be lurking around spying.”
“Yuck. I don’t want to see him.”
“I don’t, either. I’m hoping his team is eliminated today by the team they’re playing.”
Tate and his teammates and the other team came out to practice to hysterical cheers and yelling. It was so noisy we couldn’t hear our own screams so Ethan kissed me. I don’t know how the two are linked, they just are.
We were playing North Plateau High School.
The referees blew their whistles, and we were off and running. Tate started and we jumped ahead early. Tate made some incredible shots, including two hook shots, which sent our fans into a tizzy.
The North Plateau students were well-behaved for a while, then a group of maybe twenty kids started chanting, “Martian man, Martian man, Martian man,” whenever Tate handled the ball.
For a second Tate was distracted by them and missed a pass. The ball went to the other side. He missed two shots. Another pass he threw was intercepted. His game was off, and the coach pulled him. I could see Coach Boynton psyching him up, yelling some confidence into him, while Tate held his head in his hands, his teammates patting him on the back.
Within minutes Tate was back in again, our crowd went wild, and the other fans started yelling, “Martian man, Martian man, Martian man.”
I turned and started toward the aisle—as did Brooke—but my brother grabbed me around the waist, then he grabbed Damini, who had followed me saying, “Balls and tarnation, I’m gonna punch those assholes.”
Turns out I didn’t need to do anything.
A kid on the other team, whose name I later learned was Cormac, had the ball. When Cormac heard the chant, he stopped and put his hands in a
T
for time-out. The ref blew the whistle.
T
for time-out. The ref blew the whistle.
Cormac turned to Tate and stuck his hand out to shake it. I could see Tate’s hesitation, because he didn’t know what was going on and the words “Martian man” were slamming around in his head, but he shook Cormac’s hand.
Cormac took it one step further. He ran over to the announcers’ table, grabbed a microphone, and jumped on top of it.
His side yelled and cheered for him, but Cormac shouted, “Shut your mouths, home boys.”
When the whole gym was quiet, he said, and his voice was particularly deep, “You peoples over there, yeah, yous. The ones who are shoutin’ at Tate and saying bad things with you bad mouths. You shut you damn mouths or I’m gonna shut ’em for you, you got that?”
Okay! That settled those kids right down.
“Now you know whose my brothers are, they’re right there. Darrell, Michael, Ross, Harold. They came home from college to watch this game. Bros, you come out.”
I watched as four huge men stood up right behind Cormac’s team on the bleachers.
Huge.
Huge.
“You guys don’t stop sayin’ that smack about my friend, Tate, and my bros are gonna take care of yous, you got that? We gonna play a fair game. A fair game. Don’t make me comes after yous, and don’t make my brothers move.”
Silence.
“You hear me? You shut up and quit yellin’ that crap or I’m gonna turn you into crap. Got that?”
The kids were frozen, but a few heads nodded. Cormac jumped off the announcers’ table. Later the whole thing hit YouTube. The girl who downloaded it included a picture of Tate, part of the game they were playing before Cormac jumped onto the announcers’ table, the fierce brothers, and Tate’s blog site at the end of it. There were 3,900 hits by the next day.
The teams came back out, and Cormac slapped Tate on the back. I saw Tate wipe the tears off his face, touched by what Cormac did, and Cormac slapped him on the back again.
The whistles blew, and we were off and running again.
Cormac’s brothers took it upon themselves to stand at the front of the kid section for the rest of the game. Not one more rude thing was said about Tate.
“Class,” Caden said, after leading three cheers in a row. “Those men are classy.”
“Elegant family,” my mother said. “Mark my words, I’ll bet the mother wears designer heels.”
The game went into double overtime. I could tell that Tate was exhausted. In the last three seconds, when we were down by one point, Baron lobbed Tate the ball. It was a Hail Mary pass and a Hail Mary basket. Tate shot from near to half court, over to the right, his right arm swinging.
The clock wound down, three . . . two . . . the ball was in the air, my mother grabbed my hand, Brooke gasped, the ball arched, spun, spun, spun . . .
Swoosh!
Right through the net.
We descended into chaos.
Our side cheered so hard I thought the roof might cave.
The kids rushed the court.
The team parents cried.
The cameramen and reporters joined the jumping mob in the middle of the court.
Before we could stop them, Damini and the triplets scooted their way down the bleachers, too. The other kids recognized the triplets and pushed them toward Tate, along with Damini. The boys put the triplets on their shoulders and a couple of them held Damini up, too.
There was my son, arms up, smile a mile wide, his teammates cheering, and right by him was Damini with her arm around Tate, her prosthetic leg out, not hidden at all by her gold-sequined skirt because, as she always told me, “why hide what lets me walk?” and the triplets, dressed as strange bobcats, claws in the air.
We were in the finals for the Class 4A state title.
Unfortunately, regrettably, we were playing TJ Hooks’s team. I felt a frisson of fear dance up and down my back, leaping from rib to rib.
“I don’t feel settled about this,” Caden said. “I feel unsettled.”
“The air is pierced with Martin’s odiousness,” my mother said. “I wish he would explode.”
The games were usually back-to-back, but we had a week’s break because the night of our last game, a whole bunch of pipes burst after being frozen and the mess flooded the gym.
Tate practiced relentlessly, with his team and alone.
As my mother gushed, “I am so thrilled I can hardly stand it! My bones are quivering with glee!”
My bones were quivering with glee, too. And guilt. I wish I’d let him play before this.
Ethan agreed that his bones were also quivering with glee. “Gleeful bones,” he said, then kissed me silly. “Let’s get our gleeful bones naked together in bed.”
Caden’s family came over to visit after Brooke arrived.
Caden cried when he saw Brooke, transformed to a shy slip of a woman now, but he was protective, encouraging, and brought her a bouquet of lilies in a long, rectangular glass vase, tulips between them. “So glad you’re back, Brooke, so glad you’re back. You feeling better now?”
She assured him she was. She took him outside for a walk through our fir trees that first visit. I knew she was apologizing to him, and when they came back in, they’d both been crying.
“Come and work for me in my flower shop, Brooke. We can make flower arrangements in the shapes of sports cars, dogs, elephants, you name it, we do it.”
Brooke hugged him. She hugged Damini, too, who said, “It’s great to finally meet you. You’ve been through a bad time and me, too. Look, I lost a leg because of it.”
The triplets bopped around in costumes. This time there was an alligator, a space alien, and a George W. Bush. She hugged them, too.
Tate was getting to know Brooke day by day.
They played chess together, she lost, they walked on the property. She spent hours in his experiment room. She tossed Skittles into his mouth and tried to balance fruit on her head. She baked with him, treats, taco soup, and breads.
At one point Tate said, “I’ve missed you, Brooke.”
Brooke cried.
He patted her back.
“You sure have a lot of tears in you, Brooke. Do you think you’re ever gonna run out?”
“No,” she whispered. “No.”
“Okay. Glad I know. I’ll make us popcorn. That daredevil show is on TV again. Do you want to watch it with me?”
They made meatballs while they watched the show, laughing the whole time.
I was beginning to breathe easier. I didn’t want to let myself like having Brooke around again, but I did. She was funny and fun. She is the wittiest person I know. She is really deep because she’s been through traumatizing experiences that bring on wisdom, perspective, compassion.
I started to dare to hope that maybe this time she could stay clean.
18
O
n my drive home from work, I stopped my car across the street from the Fischerson house, then climbed out and explored, ignoring the freezing rain.
n my drive home from work, I stopped my car across the street from the Fischerson house, then climbed out and explored, ignoring the freezing rain.
Later, after a dinner of butternut squash soup, chicken cordon bleu, and vanilla ice cream with chocolate sprinkles, all of which Tate and Brooke helped me make, I grabbed a sketchbook and took it out to the greenhouse. Tate did his homework for his online advanced calculus class next to me, while I drew pages and pages of plans for the interior of my imaginary tea/herb/spice/sandwich/dessert shop.
I thought of the patients I’d had over the years. I still missed some of them.
For example, Mrs. Grosell, who was only fifty, who said that she felt blessed to have had fifty years. “Many people don’t even get close to what I’ve had.”
Dale Hu, who taught me how to juggle. Even the day before he died, he was intent on me gaining this skill. I still juggle apples and oranges now and then and think of him.
Sergeant Chen Kim, who had Lou Gehrig’s disease and who had loved to cook. I would go to his house and cook in front of him. He loved it.
They all died quietly, no special endings, but I had made them comfortable.
The losses, though, for some reason, have all of a sudden added up to too much for me. Too much.
I grabbed a green colored pencil and added a tree to the outside of my shop, then drew white lights over it. I love white lights in trees.
Death had exhausted me. It was running me down.
I stared at my plans and laughed as a bucket of rain pelted the windows.
The laugh felt freeing.
“What is it, Boss Mom?”
I showed Tate the plans.
He nodded and smiled. “That’s sick it’s so cool.”
I hugged him tight.
TATE’S AWESOME PIGSKIN BLOG
We’re in the finals.
Come, my peeps.
Come.
Ethan and I became engaged that Sunday after hiking around our property through a light snow, the snowflakes twirling around, white magic landing on our hats.
He stopped, pulled me into his arms, kissed me silly, and said, “Jaden, will you marry me?”
“Marry you?” A rush of trippy euphoria sped through my body. “But . . . you . . . we . . . it’s not been long. . . .”
“It’s been years.”
“But once you get to know me more, you might not like me. . . .”
“I already like you. I love you.”
“I have obsessive rituals. I cut up herbs and mix them with spices. . . .”
“I’ve seen it. It’s creative, thoughtful.”
“I also fret and worry about Tate constantly, and I’m overprotective and hover over him.”
“I will fret and worry with you when it’s something we should fret and worry about, and we’ll work on you not hovering too much.”
“I have a sarcastic mouth, I’m impatient, and I have some anger issues.”
“Your mouth is sexy, you’re not impatient with me, and we all have issues.”
“I work all the time. I’m way too serious. The fun has been beat out of me.”
“Same here. We can change and become more fun together.”
“You know my mom thinks she’s a witch, from a witch line dating to a queen, and she thinks I’m a witch, too.”
“She’s a focused, rational woman except for that part, and I find it endearing.”
“And I have a temper.”
“I’ve seen it many times. It’s an exciting part of your personality, and please notice I didn’t blame your red hair.”
“Thank you. It’s not my hair, though, it’s my eyes.”
“And I love the blue and the green. I want to be your husband and Tate’s father and your witchly mother’s son-in-law. I want to be a part of your whole family. I want to live with you forever until I’m old and creaky and you’re old and creaky and we’ll travel the world and see what else is out there.”
“Might as well die having an adventure,” I said, overwhelmed at the thought of adventures with Ethan.
“Yes, we might as well.”
“I think that sounds nice, Ethan.” I sniffled. Nice? Surely I could think of something better to say to his proposal?
“It sounds nice to me, too, Jaden.” He dropped to one knee in the snow and took the burgundy-colored box one might expect with a marriage proposal out of his pocket. “Will you marry me, Jaden Bruxelle?”
Would I marry him? “Yes. Oh yes.” I dropped to both knees, put my hands on his face, and gave him a long smackeroo. “Yes, oh yes, oh yes, forever yes!” After more smackeroos we decided to run to the house, jump in my four-poster bed and explore the bounce of my mattress. It is a good thing no one was home.
“Wife,” Ethan said to me afterward.
“What?”
“Wife.” He kissed me. “I love the sound of that word.”
“I do, too, husband.” My voice wobbled.
“Wife. This is my wife, Jaden. Jaden is my wife. Jaden and Ethan are married. Married couple. Wife. Husband. My wife is the love of my life. I love you, wife.”
“I love you and . . .” I hesitated, sniffled again.
“And . . .”
“And thank you, Ethan. Thank you for asking me.” I couldn’t believe it. I could hardly understand it. I was going to marry Ethan. Me. Ethan and I would be together forever. I had Ethan. After all those long, sad, lonely years of wanting him, of not being able to have him, to hold him, he was here, in my bed, the snowflakes fluttering down. “Thank you for wanting me to be your wife.”
This time it was Ethan whose voice wobbled. “It is I who should thank you, Jaden.” He picked up my hand, a chivalrous knight, and kissed it. “Thank you. I think we’re going to have a beautiful life together.”
“Me too, oh, me too.”
“I have wanted this since I met you.”
“I have dreamed of you forever.”
Oh, pish. We are silly sappy.
We told my family the night before the tournament. I thought the ecstasy was going to kill my mother. She actually spread her arms out wide, closed her eyes, and said, “My spells worked! They took way too long, but they worked. Thank you, and thank you, God.” She picked up the charms on her necklace and kissed them.
Caden bawled and said, “I will do all of your flower arrangements! I’ll make one arrangement into a raft, because that was your first date. Another will be a greenhouse, and a third will be of Aphrodite, goddess of love.”
Damini said, “Whoa, Aunt Jaden. You finally have someone to make out with. Can I be a bridesmaid?” Yes, absolutely. “I love you, Aunt Jaden.” She hugged me. “I’m happy, happy for you. Remember what I said about giving you a leg if you ever needed it.”
“I would never forget it.” I turned to my sister. “Brooke, would you be a bridesmaid, too?”
She could not answer through all her jumbling emotions, and her face crumpled, but she hugged me with those wispy arms, and I knew that was a yes.
Tate said, “Finally. Now you two can get on with it instead of ogling each other with lusty looks that a person of my age and innocence should never see or be corrupted by. Young gentlemen should not be privy to such unbridled passion. I am easily influenced, and you must be careful with my purity, not fill my imagination with these potent images of uncontrolled love—”
“You’re a pain in my keester, Tate,” Damini said. He picked her up and threw her over his shoulder.
Tate would walk me down the aisle. “That’ll be excellent, Boss Mom. I’ll wear your bridal bouquet on my head.”
We told the triplets there would be a wedding. I asked Heloise and Hazel to be flower girls and Harvey to be a ring bearer.
“Ya. I do it,” Heloise said. “I be bunny!”
“Me, too.” Hazel jumped up and down. “I be monster! Roar!”
“I be ring bear!” Harvey said, claws up. “Grrr!”
“This is glorious,” my mother said. “I’ll have the writers put me in jail for murder for a month before I’m acquitted on a technicality so we can plan the wedding! I’ll knock my current husband out, wrap him in ropes, and toss him over the side of a rowboat in the middle of the night. It will be evilly juicy. . . .” She pulled me close, her auburn bob to my locks, tears in her voice. “This is one of the best days of my life, Jaden. Your father would be thrilled. He loved you very much.”
I loved him, too.
Ethan hugged my mother and me, then the whole family hugged together.
“Roar!” and “Grrr!” the triplets said.
“I a brown ring bear!” Harvey said.
Maggie Granelli was seeing angels.
In the last few days they were flying in more and more often.
“That one is a beautiful angel, isn’t it, Jaden? Came down right off my staircase.”
I sat beside Maggie’s bed, with the view of her cherished, but dead, rose garden, and held her hand. She was staring, her eyes blank, but wondrous, unblinking, yet fully believing in what she saw.
“She’s beautiful,” I said.
“Do you see those wings!” Maggie breathed, pointing at her precious, barren rose garden. “White wings, and gold, too. I had no idea! No idea at all! Oh, they’re fluttering. But this time they’re not flying away. They’re . . .” She gasped. “They’re staying with me now. Oh! Did you hear that?”
Maggie had been declining quickly, almost overnight, her daughters with her always. Things were steep and fast now, as if the disease had realized it was late in killing her and wanted to get things done efficiently.
“Two angels now.” Maggie smiled. “I’m pleased! Two!”
“What do they look like, Momma?” one daughter asked, all four crying.
“They look like angels,” Maggie said, her voice stunned. “But they’re much taller than I expected. Their wings are glowing and full of layers of feathers. . . .”
I held her hand, and the daughters sobbed.
I figured Maggie had, at most, a few more days.
She would be going to the rose garden in the sky.
I don’t need to write down how many red cinnamon Gummi Bears I ate when I left. It would be embarrassing.
The scent of death was stronger in my herb and spice combinations, almost overpowering.
Who was it? What should I do? Lock everyone up? My mother, Caden, Brooke, and I had talked about it again. We were worried, but what could we do?
Stay at home? That’s when your house burns down.
Take Tate out of the tournament in case it was him? He would probably try to get there, by himself, and get hit by a car.
Keep my mother off planes to Los Angeles? She’d take the train and the train would be derailed.
My mother said she was “delving into her spells” twice a day.
I was delving into my worry, and it was a long, black, endless pit. I gripped the cross charm on my necklace.
For the final game I drove Tate to school to ride the school bus with his teammates to the university gym. I tried not to cry as I hugged him. “Good luck, son.”
“Boss Mom, I don’t need luck.” He tapped his head, his ears, and thumped his fists together. “General Noggin, Bert and Ernie, and Billy and Bob are gonna bring down the house. Road Runner is gonna put on his x-ray vision and shoot.” He put an apple on his head after he climbed out of the car. His friends ran over to greet him.
Tate put his arms straight out and announced, “Don’t touch me! I am Tate Bruxelle, world-famous tightrope walker! Don’t make a sound, don’t interrupt my deep concentration while I traverse the Grand Canyon on this rope with an apple on my head!”
His friends bent over laughing.
Tate turned slowly back and said to me, not bothering to lower his voice, “By the way, I love you, Boss Mom, even though you don’t seem to truly understand quantum physics.” The apple wiggled and he froze, eyes rolling up.
“I love you, too, Tate, even though you don’t seem to appreciate paprika as much as you should.”
He grinned, then placed one foot precisely in front of the other. “I’m going to break the world record for tightrope-walking daredevils! I’m higher than anyone has ever been! I’m crazier than anyone has ever been! No one has ever tried to cross the Grand Canyon before on a rope!”
“Tightrope walker Tate!” Milt yelled.
“Out of his way, one and all,” Baron intoned. “Let the record-breaking begin.”
“It’s a death-defying act!” Anthony said. “He could die and be squished!”
“I am in the middle of the Grand Canyon, on a rope, no net!” Tate said, very dramatic. “The river is rushing below, birds are flying by, the wind is trying to push me off into the canyon, and, oh no, a woman in a helicopter has flashed me her boobies.... I must shield my eyes from this depravity!”
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