Sara and the Search for Normal

by Wesley King

  “I’ll think of something. I’m good with problems, except for mine. I can help.”

  “Promise?” Erin asked, smiling.

  I hesitated. I wasn’t supposed to do this again. But maybe I could compromise.

  “I promise to try.”

  CHAPTER 11 RULES AND REGULATIONS

  After Erin went home, I said good night to my mom and went to bed. Daddy hadn’t come home yet. I was worried about him. He was mad a lot.

  An hour later, I was lying in bed, thinking instead of sleeping like usual. My pills were starting to tell my brain that sleep was nice and I could think more tomorrow. The pills always say encouraging things like that.

  I just wish my silly brain would do it herself.

  The front door opened and I heard soft footsteps. I slipped out from under the covers and crept downstairs, pausing in the shadows as the kitchen light flicked on. Daddy cracked a beer and went to the couch. I just watched him, silhouetted against the flashing light of the TV, not ready to say anything just yet. He drank more lately, and slept less. He was never a good sleeper, but now the dark rings around his eyes could have been tattoos.

  I walked in and sat down beside him. “Hi, Daddy.”

  The blue light made his wrinkles deeper. I tried to remember it was Daddy, just tired.

  “Hello, Princess.”

  He put his arm over my shoulders and pulled me in. He smelled like beer and body odor and cigarettes. I felt his chest rise and fall beneath my head.

  “I’m sorry I ruined dinner,” he said in a low voice.

  “It’s okay,” I said. “I was never a rose person myself.”

  He snorted. “How was your night with your friend?”

  “It was fun.”

  “Good,” he said. His voice was quiet. Hoarse. “I’ll be here next time.”

  “Okay.”

  His head was rolling a little and I waited as he leaned into me more and more.

  “What did your mother say about the roses?” he murmured.

  I realized he wasn’t talking to me anymore. Not really. He was half-asleep.

  “Nothing,” I said. “We had a nice dinner.”

  “That’s good,” he said.

  Then his eyes were closed and I quickly let myself out from beneath him. He muttered something and lay there like he was dead. I took the beer out of his hands and laid a blanket over him. Then I just watched him for a while and listened to him snore.

  I remembered that he used to tuck me in every night and read me stories. Tonight I sat beside him in the blue and dark, and instead of a story I got snoring. It was better than nothing. My dad and mom weren’t happy anymore. That was obvious. Maybe it was about me.

  One more reason to get better, as if I didn’t have enough.

  * * *

  On Saturday, I headed for the park promptly at 12:45 p.m. This time, I didn’t make it.

  “Hey, Sara.”

  I looked back and saw James jogging to catch up. He had his hands jammed in his jean pockets, and a plaid shirt collar was poking out beneath a bomber jacket. He soon fell into step.

  “Hey,” I said.

  My cheeks were warm and probably flushing, but I blamed it on the cold.

  “You up for a walk instead?”

  “Sure.”

  We walked by three houses in silence. The leaves were all red and orange now, both the ones on the branches and the growing skirts around them. Our steps made soft crunching sounds.

  I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to say something. Was he waiting for me? I tried to think of something clever to say, but nothing came to mind, so I just walked and waited and smiled.

  “How was your morning?” he asked finally.

  “Just read, mostly. Pretty quiet.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “Well, no, actually, not for me.”

  He still had his hands in his pockets and he was walking slowly, so I walked slower too.

  “Some days are better than others. But today I went into his bedroom. Dr. Ring said it would be good for me. To face my fears or whatever. So I thought I would give it a try today.”

  “He says a lot of stuff like that,” I said. “That we must face what we fear.”

  “I don’t know … I just started to cry. Didn’t work.”

  He was staring straight ahead, and it sounded like tears were welling up. His voice was catching. I knew the sound and the feeling. A little ball in the throat that kept sneaking upward.

  “I think it’s supposed to work slowly,” I said in my best comforting voice.

  He glanced at me. “Did it work for you? Facing your fears?”

  I answered without thinking. “No. Not really.”

  “Why?”

  I paused. “Because I am afraid of myself.”

  We walked for a little while. He seemed to be thinking about that. I wanted to take it back. I was supposed to be acting normal. It wasn’t normal to be afraid of yourself. Stupid Sara.

  “Yeah,” he said. “I don’t know how it works, then.”

  The wind picked up and I zipped my coat to my chin, pinching the skin.

  “Your last name is Malvern, right?”

  “Yeah,” I said, frowning. “How did you know that?”

  He paused. “I asked a friend of mine about you. He goes to your school.”

  I felt my stomach drop. Skin prickle. All of that for nothing. All my trying.

  “Who?”

  “He’s in eighth grade. Doesn’t matter. I just asked if he knew a girl named Sara. I didn’t say how I knew you or anything. Just what you looked like.” He glanced at me. “He, uh, knew you.”

  “By a different name?” I asked quietly.

  “It’s stupid—” James started.

  “What name did he use?”

  “Well, he knew your last name. Malvern. But he said they call you … Psycho Sara.”

  I kept my eyes on the sidewalk. Trying not to cry.

  “Yeah,” I murmured. “They do.”

  “He said you didn’t talk. Learned in your own class. Didn’t know much else.”

  We were still walking, even slower now, and I was thinking that last Saturday seemed like a long time ago. We stopped at a red light and waited even though there weren’t any cars.

  I thought maybe I would just go home. He probably wanted me to.

  “What did you say?” I asked, not able to help myself.

  “Nothing. I said it was stupid.”

  I took a deep breath. “You don’t have to hang around—”

  “I like talking with you,” James said, grinning. “You get all this stuff.”

  “Firsthand experience.”

  He peered at me, as if trying to find something written there. “You seem normal.”

  “Lots of people do on the outside.”

  He laughed and squeezed my hand. “I guess we know better.”

  “Yeah,” I said, pulling my hand away without thinking. “Maybe.”

  I immediately regretted pulling my hand away. I just … wasn’t used to that. Erin was always hugging me now, but I didn’t know James. Now I had ruined it. Of course I had. I ruined lots of things.

  I felt my throat going dry. Not now. Please. Please not now. Pressure on my chest.

  He put his hand in his pocket and he looked embarrassed. “Sorry, I shouldn’t just grab—”

  “It’s okay,” I said. “Sorry.”

  My face felt really hot now and I tried to smile. Tried not to grab my chest.

  Tried not to fall apart right here in the street.

  I caught a flicker of motion behind him and saw a group of kids walking toward us. James noticed them, and his expression changed. He straightened his back and moved away in one motion. There was now an extra foot between us, just enough that I couldn’t touch him.

  “I got to go,” he said. “I forgot I told my mom I’d help her with something.”

  “Okay.”

  I tried to make my voice behave.

  “See you next weekend.” />
  He walked toward the kids, and I walked home by myself. There was a ball in my throat now, but I told it to go away. I wasn’t going to cry. When I got home, I went to my room and opened my book and stared at it without reading.

  He knew my nickname. And he was embarrassed of being seen with me.

  I wondered if James would want to go on any more walks, or come to the park anymore. Erin always made me feel like crazy was okay. But James reminded me that I wanted to get better. He had some issues too, but he had normal friends and a normal life, and he would be normal soon. I wanted to be there with him.

  Despite all my efforts, despite trying to look and talk and act as normal as I could, he still found out who I was. I tried to calm down. It was okay. I just had to try harder. Much harder.

  I went to my desk and threw the three tenets of Star Children aside to grab my rules. Then I started writing. Hold hands with James. Smile more. Act cool. I added more and more until my hand hurt.

  Then I looked at all my rules for being normal, put my head on the desk, and cried.

  It was a lot to remember, and I still had so far to go.

  CHAPTER 12 FORGIVENESS IS EASY IF YOU FORGET

  School went by slowly that week. I was busy moping about a stupid boy whose name rhymed with “games,” and I think I annoyed Ms. Hugger a few times. Or more specifically, every time I said anything.

  My review of The Invisible Man was that he was “lucky.” She wondered if I meant the part where he tried to launch a reign of terror, or attempted a murder, or if it was when he was beaten to death by a mob. Ms. Hugger can be sassy too, sometimes.

  Home was quiet. Mom said work was busy, so she was coming home later at night. We were eating a lot of pizza. Well, one night we had fast food. Dad was taking more naps than ever, and there were so many beer bottles in the living room I had to be careful not to kick them on my way to the couch. Erin texted me every day, but I replied slowly and with short answers.

  On Thursday night I came into group therapy last because my mom was home late from work and my dad had drunk so many beers I decided not to wake him up. I sat down next to Erin.

  “Hey, bestie,” Erin whispered. “You were extra quiet with the texting this week.”

  “Sorry,” I said. “I was feeling … extra quiet.”

  She stared at me. “Did James do something?”

  I didn’t want to talk about it. “No.”

  She clearly didn’t believe me. “Boys,” she said, shaking her head. “Typical.”

  I smiled despite myself as Dr. Ring started the session. The theme was honesty.

  “Everyone lies to themselves sometimes,” he said. “We pretend we are okay even if we are not. We justify an action that we know is wrong. But if you are struggling with mental issues, lying can be dangerous. If you tell yourself you are fine, that means you don’t ask for help.”

  “I don’t want to be pitied,” Peter grumbled.

  “Everyone needs help sometimes,” Dr. Ring said. “Even Muggles.”

  I laughed without thinking and clamped a hand over my mouth.

  Dr. Ring grinned. “Well, I made Sara laugh. That is a first.”

  “Does that mean she talks?” Peter asked, frowning.

  “None of your business,” Erin jumped in. “I speak on her behalf.”

  “Easy, everyone,” Dr. Ring said. “Erin, what does honesty mean to you?”

  Erin seemed to mull it over. “Telling the truth, I guess. But, I don’t really know who gets to decide what is true. I mean, I think I do. So I guess it’s just acting like who I really am.”

  She glanced at me, and I wondered if she was thinking Star Children.

  “Interesting … and I agree. Because of that, I think it means showing vulnerability, too,” Dr. Ring said. “Nobody wants to feel vulnerable. But acknowledging our own weaknesses and allowing others to see them lets us get the help we need.”

  He turned to me.

  “Sometimes we want to keep control, even when we can’t. And that causes problems.”

  I looked at the floor. He and I had talked about that before. About my need to control my sickness and fix everything. Not talking to people unless I decided it was safe. Trying to stick to my rules. Pretending that everything that happened to me was my choice and my fault. He wanted me to be vulnerable. But I couldn’t do that. Even the thought scared me.

  If I gave up that little bit of control I held on to—that belief that it was my fault and I could fix it by myself without the pills—what would be left behind? I was barely holding on as it was.

  When the session was over, Erin and I started for the parking lot together.

  “So, do I need to beat James up?” she asked, cracking her knuckles. “Ow.”

  I smiled. “No. I’ll let you know.”

  She pretended to karate chop the air. “Do it. I am a green belt. I think. I was seven.”

  “Are we going to hang out this weekend?” I asked hopefully.

  “Obvi. Tomorrow or Saturday? Or both? Actually, I think it’s my brother’s birthday.” She frowned. “Yeah. We’re having a family thing Saturday. Boring. He really is the worst.”

  She paused, glancing at me as we walked outside.

  “Did you … want to come?” she asked.

  I felt a little flutter in my stomach. A new house. New people. It was an easy no.

  But, she was my friend. Friends hung out at each other’s houses even when strangers were there.

  “Okay,” I said. “But I probably won’t talk much. You know, this time.”

  “I told my parents you were shy.” She smiled, but she seemed uneasy. “It’s at six, I think. I’ll text you. It’s going to be boring, but we can just go up to my room once the cake is all done.”

  “Okay.”

  She hugged me and headed for her ride. “See you Saturday!”

  As I hurried to my mom’s van, I smiled. I was going to a birthday party. At someone’s house. That was number forty- one on my list: Get invited to a party. I’d added that one when I found an invitation to Ashley’s party on the floor in the school hallway and realized I would probably never be invited to one unless I made some changes.

  Maybe I could even stop by the park first in the afternoon.

  And an optimistic little voice said, “Maybe you can be a normal girl and a Star Child.”

  It wasn’t likely, but I clung to it anyway. Dr. Ring wanted honesty. I wanted hope.

  * * *

  I was losing that hope on Saturday afternoon. I had been sitting in the park for an hour, and it was cold enough that I was reading with gloves on, which is not easy. I had scared James away.

  It shouldn’t have mattered. I was used to being alone. I closed my book, cold nipping through the gloves.

  And then James dropped onto the grass beside me.

  “Hey,” he said.

  “Hi,” I managed, fumbling the book.

  “I should explain the other day—” James started.

  I was supposed to play it cool, but Angry Sara decided to take the lead.

  “You left pretty suddenly.”

  Why did my voice sound like that? It was like a whip. I had never even heard it before.

  He fidgeted and scratched his neck. “I had to get home.”

  “You didn’t want those people to see us together,” I said.

  Well, I was all in now. Angry Sara wanted to interrogate.

  I could see he wanted to lie more.

  “It would have been hard to explain. No one knows I go to therapy but my mom.”

  “And they would have known I was crazy just by looking at me?”

  “Well … no,” he said. He must have been very itchy because now he was scratching his arm. “I just … well … Dion knew you right away. It just seemed easier not to go introducing people and all that.” He sighed. “No, you know what? I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.”

  I raised my eyebrows.

  “Dr. Ring said to channel my grief,” he sai
d, playing with his hands. “To make my brother proud. And maybe he meant into school and stuff, but I think also into just being a better person. And I like that idea.”

  “He is an optimist, that Dr. Ring.”

  I wanted to be mad or hurt or at the very least cold, but my resolve was breaking. He was so disarmingly … earnest.

  “I won’t do that ever again, okay,” he said, and he stuck out his hand for a shake like we were signing an international treaty. “I promise.”

  I don’t take promises lightly, but it wasn’t mine, so I shook his hand and nodded.

  “Fair enough.”

  He smiled, and I forgot all about it. I also noticed he was wearing a hoodie.

  “Progress,” I said, gesturing to his collar.

  “And cold,” he replied, showing me the plaid shirt beneath it.

  It was cold. I zipped my coat up and shivered at the breeze that crept down my neck. We sat there quietly for a moment and let the wind do the talking for us. Normal for me, but he seemed especially somber. His eyes were locked on nothing, and the smile was long gone now.

  “Everything all right?” I asked.

  He forced a smile. “My mom. She started crying when she saw my shirt. She does that a lot. She asked me to stop wearing them because they remind her. And I said I wear them to remind me. I accused her of wanting to forget, and she cried more. And then so did I and left.”

  His voice was halting and hoarse. “I feel like such a jerk, you know. I know what she meant. I’m just … I don’t know.”

  “What?”

  “I’m acting stupid,” he said, shrugging. “Even I know it.”

  “You lost someone. I think it’s okay to act a little crazy.”

  He was silent for a long time. “I talk to him a lot. I just … start talking.”

  I saw tears coming down his cheeks. I didn’t know how to console people, so I just waited.

  He roughly wiped his face. “At night, mostly. I stand outside a lot. When the sky is clear. It’s dumb, but I read one time that people used to think stars were people who died. I liked that.”

  I followed his gaze up to the blue sky. No stars but one.

  “Well, we are made of stars,” I said.