Some Kind of Normal
really hard. What can we do to
help?"
    Suddenly, I'm tired of all this. I am tired of
fighting these women who have driven all this way to be with me. I
am tired of trying to make a wall between us when I've been on the
other side so often. I look at their faces, and even though I want
to see the false sympathy, there ain't nothing there but love. I
feel ashamed.
    "The doctor gave me lots of information I don't quite
get. Maybe you could help me sort it out."
    They all immediately jump on that, anxious to do
something other than bring gifts we can't eat and plan church
socials. I say I need to get all the pamphlets back in the room,
and I tell them to meet me at the cafeteria.
    When I get back to Ashley's room, I stop short at the
door.
    Logan's sitting on the bed with Ashley, and they're
laughing so hard I see tears in Ashley's eyes. She's bunched up
like she's got the stomach pains, and Logan throws out one-liners
that make her gasp for breath.
    I'm all at once standing at the doorway of Logan's
bedroom when they were just young'uns, buried in the dark of night
in Logan's bunk beds. Despite me painting a whole room of pink
butterflies for Ashley, she still sneaked in every night to sleep
with Logan. As I'd head to bed, I'd hear them giggling in the
black, trading jokes that revolved around body sounds and stuffing
the blankets in their mouths to keep me from hearing. Of course I
heard, and I'd stomp in and demand Ashley go back to her room and
the laughter to stop, because school was coming early in the
morning. She'd slink past me, but in the morning I'd find her back
in his room, curled up in the bottom bunk.
    One night she stopped going in, and I wished I'd
never sent her back.
    I haven't seen them pass a word between them for
barely a year other than to grumble at each other over the dinner
table. I want to be happy they've found each other again. Mostly
I'm jealous.
    I back out of the room without a sound and return to
the nurse's desk where I say I've lost some of the pamphlets Dr.
Benton gave me. She flips through a file cabinet and produces
another stack like magic.
    I sit in an orange plastic chair like my middle
school had in their cafeteria, and I go through the motions of
explaining diabetes to women with blank looks on their faces.
Already, I'm using words they don't know, like I've entered a
private club with its own language. I'd be surprised by how easily
the new words slip from me but I'm numb, and they're just
words.
    They stay about an hour, nodding and looking through
the papers, asking polite questions like "Can she eat cherry
cobbler?" and "How do you know how much insulin to take for a
chicken potpie?" They arrange a list of people who will feed the
fish until we get home and water the flowers. Since we're all here,
there's nothing else to do at home, and they all realize there
ain't much else for them to do here. So one makes an excuse to go,
and they all follow. One by one they hug me and kiss my cheek and
say goodbye.
    "We're praying God will heal, Ashley," Brenda
says.
    "But what if he don't," I say. "Maybe it's not his
will to heal her."
    I might as well have let loose a string of cuss words
for all the shock. "Why would he not?"
    I don't know this answer. God knows I'm praying for
the answer, because I don't think he plans on healing her. The
peace that he isn't going to heal her sits like stone in my
stomach. When they leave I'm alone in a cafeteria full of other
people who are alone.
     
    ~~~~
     
    In the room, Logan's put away the monopoly game and
is sitting in his totally-bored position on the daybed reading a
book the size of the New York city phonebook. Ashley is chattering
with Travis, who won't make eye contact with me.
    "The game's over already?"
    "Logan wiped me out in a matter of minutes," she
said, her voice all bubbly. "Look what Pastor Joel left me!" On her
lap lay dozens of homemade cards. "From the kids at church! The
youth group and a bunch of Awana kids got together last night

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