Life Happens Next by Terry Trueman Read Free Book Online Page A

okay.”
    Mom approached her and said, “I need to see what you have, honey.” Mom gently pulled Debi’s coat open. Stuffed into the arms of the coat and under her shirt, down the front of her pants, and even into her bra, were plastic bags. Mom helped her pull them out, counting as she went: twenty-eight, ranging from the small, lightweight bags they give you at supermarkets to carry your apples to the larger ones you get when they ask “Will that be paper or plastic?” Apparently Debi is the unofficial plastic bag collector for the North Neighborhood Community Center.
    â€œWhat are all these for?” Mom asked Debi.
    Debi didn’t answer right away. “I need dem.”
    Mom asked, “What for?”
    Debi said, “To go with me … my bed.”
    â€œYour bed?” Mom asked.
    â€œUnder,” Debi answered.
    Mom followed Debi downstairs and twenty minutes later came back upstairs carrying a huge armful of plastic bags, hundreds and hundreds of them, some covered in dust bunnies and all of them mashed together, wrinkled up into a giant ball. Debi must have been bringing them home every day.
    Cindy said sarcastically, “Well, everybody needs a hobby.”
    Mom gave Cindy a dirty look, but Debi said, “Yeth, hoppy good,” and laughed.
    Mom said, “There isn’t enough space in your bedroom, Debi, for so many of these bags. We’ll have to get rid of a few.”
    Debi kind of nodded and mostly just stared at the floor.
    But the plastic bag collection wasn’t all Mom found. While pulling out the bags, Mom also discovered twenty-three library books, ranging from kids’ picture books to three volumes, A, B, and D, of the World Book encyclopedia.
    Mom asked, “Do you have a library card?”
    Debi answered, “It okay … don’t need.”
    Debi somehow managed to steal all these books, getting them through the book detector machines at the downtown public library during field trips there with her Learning Skills group.
    Mom said, “Actually, Debi, you need to check books out when you borrow them from the library.”
    Debi said, “No, they free.”
    Mom said, “They’re free to borrow , Debi.”
    Debi answered, “No borrow … keep ’em … I like ’em.”
    Mom sighed and said, “No, Debi, we have to return these.”
    â€œDat okay,” Debi said. “Dey got more.”
    I’m not sure Mom’s efforts to explain to Debi the concept of a lending library made a lot of sense to Debi, but in the end she said, “It okay, Linny … I okay.”
    Like I said, our family is making a new normal because of Debi.
    And Rusty is part of this too. Rusty has become the family dog. Well, more truthfully, Paul’s dog, although Debi doesn’t seem to mind or notice. Rusty and Paul wrestle all over the house with Rusty barking and wagging his tail, jumping and scratching and biting Paul in ways that leave little red streaks on his arms and hands but never break the skin. Paul gives as good as he gets, tossing Rusty off him and slapping him around in ways that make Rusty more and more excited and playful.
    Paul has Rusty trained really well. They can be fighting, rolling around, looking like they might kill each other, and then Paul just says, “Rusty, sit,” with a certain tone in his voice. Immediately, Rusty will plant his butt on the floor. If Paul commands, “Stay,” he can walk away and Rusty won’t budge. When Paul says, “Okay,” Rusty will come running back up to him, wagging his tail.
    Paul has even trained Rusty not to attack and bite the wheels of my wheelchair anymore. From his very first day here, the dog has thought of my wheelchair as a dangerous satanic object that requires constant monitoring and attention. Despite Paul’s training, whenever Rusty comes into a room where I am, he dips his head low, staring with scary intensity