Outside the Ordinary World by Dori Ostermiller Read Free Book Online Page B

in a million years, and I knew I wouldn’t get her back for a while. Outside, two women and a man walked arm in arm, their heads bent against the heat.
    “It doesn’t cost that much, Mom,” said Ali.
    “Hmm?”
    “The camp. The ski camp. It’d only be for a week.”
    “No,” she snapped, switching off the air. “We’re going to Gram and Poppy’s, like we always do.” I wanted to push my nose into the downy hollow at the base of her neck.
    “So how was church?” I asked as we pulled into the driveway.
    “You’ve been sick three Saturdays in a row,” my mother said. “Sick, right? ” She jingled the keys in her lap.
    “It’s only a week, Mom,” said Ali. “Shelly’s mom’s letting her go for two weeks.”
    “Maybe you should just stay home with your father, Sylvia. If you’re going to get sick every week, or whatever you do, I just won’t bring you, that’s all.” The pain in my chest crawled up to my throat and tightened.
    “It’s just camp,” whined Alison. “It’s not like I’m asking for a car or something.”
    “It’s a shame, Sylvie. You could at least try to be good.” Their dresses rustled as they got out of the car, slammed their doors, heels clicking against the concrete— click click click until they reached the grass, then silence.
    I sat in the warm car for what seemed like hours, my mother’s words ringing in my head— you could at least try to be good…. I cried, hating her, vowing to be as hard as she was. I would punish her for this coldness. I’d run away, go live with Theresa and her family. Or, at the very least, I’d never speak to her again. I wondered how much this would inconvenience me, and I pictured the two of us walking past each other every day for six or seven years, turning our faces away, communicating occasionally with a terse note or hand signal. Still, I knew there was something different in her withdrawal this time. And I remembered how she had come into my room a few nights ago; I’d woken with a start to find her sitting on the edge of my bed, crying. Suddenly, the thought of her felt like a gloved hand over my mouth, a calm white suffocation. I gathered my shoes and stockings from the floor.
     
     
    Inside, all the curtains were drawn except those in the living room—the bright, empty yellow room. The entryway tiles pressed smooth against my feet, and I heard my parents arguing in the kitchen, her voice quiet and even, his a straining whisper, now fading to almost nothing, now rising, breaking above hers.
    “You know it’s illegal to open other people’s mail.”
    “Jesus, Elaine. She’s my daughter. I have a right—”
    “ Shh. Please, listen to me. He’s a dear old friend from work. You remember.”
    “I don’t particularly like what I remember.”
    “I told you, we simply ran into him and now, I suppose he’s just trying to be friendly.”
    “This is friendly? ‘Love Love, Kiss Kiss’ is friendly?”
    “ Shh. It’s a harmless little note. You’d understand if— I need to explain.”
    “Please do.”
    “I don’t want to get into it now, with the girls here.”
    “Right. Everything on your schedule.”
    “That’s not fair, honey.”
    “You mean fair like when you decide, at two in the goddamn morning—”
    “How often are you even home before two?” She saw me standing in the doorway, touched her forehead with one hand. “What is it, Sylvia?” Now they were both staring blankly as if trying to remember who I was.
    “What do you want, angel?” Her hand dropped to the counter. Dad held a letter, which he slapped onto the tile. Then he pinched his nostrils together, turned his face away. He didn’t look anything like the man in Theresa’s book. My lips and tongue were too heavy to move.
    “Christ.” He snatched his car keys from the counter and left, rattling the glass shutters on the back door.
    Neither Mom nor I turned to watch him go, but kept our eyes fixed on each other. She looked frozen, leaning