Free Some Kind of Normal by Heidi Willis

switching that around, because frankly who
enjoys making potato salad all the time more than brownies, but
Brenda waves me off and insists it works better when there is
consistency. She's a Williamson.
    She drones on some more. I'd like to tune out
completely. I'd like to not be here. I'd like them to not be here,
talking like nothing is changed, like life's going on. To be
talking about picnics sitting next to my daughter who might as well
be in a coma at this moment is surreal. That's one of those SAT
words. It's a good one.
    Brenda moves on to the Pro-Life rally that's
happening here in Austin next week, and which our church is
participating in. A million folks descending on the capital steps
to make sure people know it ain't okay to kill babies, or something
like that. This has never been my thing. I'm just not that much of
an activist, although Travis is pretty vocal, especially for a man.
His mama was a single mom and almost aborted him. I think that hits
a little close to home for him.
    Ashley gets really into it, too. The youth group is
pretty active that way, and so she's been planning on walking in it
for the last two months. Now, of course, I'm not sure if I'll let
her.
    Brenda's yapping on and on about things that don't
matter at all: details about the busses, and how many kids are
going, and what kind of poster board will stand up to the marching,
and how hot it's supposed to be. I realize she's talking and
talking 'cause she don't know what else to say to me. She's here to
help, but there's nothing to do to help. Nothing even Travis and me
can do. Some of us ain't that good at just being there for one
another. Brenda's one of those folks. Baking and cleaning and
making phone calls, sure. But not so much of the just being
there.
    She's going over the agenda for the day and asks if
she can put me down as a chaperone for the youth group bus, if'n
we're out of the hospital by then and all. I guess she figures
she's got me cornered 'cause who's going to say no to life when
their daughter's hanging by a thread. I don't want to admit to her
that I've never been comfortable with the way the church is
involved in political issues. Seems to me a church should be about
God and not so much the government. But it always seemed important
to Ashley, so I say yes. I don't add the "if we're out of here"
part.
    Now she fishes around in her trashy gold bag and
pulls out a stack of fundraising flyers and a box of envelopes and
hands them to me.
    "You've got lots of time here, I figured this would
be the perfect job for you. You can stuff the envelopes and put the
labels on them while you're sitting here all day. Ashley can even
help if she's feeling better." She smiles sweetly, the kind of
smile the wolf in grandma's clothes smiled right before he gobbled
up Red Riding Hood.
    She's talking about where to get the banner printed
that the kids will carry in the march downtown when I see Ashley's
eyes flutter open. I get up from this tiresome group and sit on the
bed beside her.
    "Hi, Ash. It's me. How're you feeling?"
    The women get quiet for the first time, and suddenly,
Pastor Joel senses Ashley's awkwardness and herds the small group
out into the hall.
    "Why are they all here?"
    "Because they care about you."
    "I think they're afraid you might not show up for
church this week and ruin our family's perfect attendance."
    "I'd say that's a certainty."
    "What time is it?"
    I look at the clock behind her bed. "Ten. You fell
asleep after the shot."
    "I was so tired. I woke up all sweaty and jittery,
and I couldn't keep from shaking all over."
    "I know. The nurse said you had a sugar low."
    "I felt like all I wanted to do was sleep, but I was
shaking so much I couldn't. She gave me a shot." She rubbed her
arm. "It really hurt. Are all my shots going to hurt like
that?"
    She still has the IV in, and the insulin is dripping
straight into her arms. She's supposed to get it out later today,
and we'll start the shots for every meal. We're both