Read Online Life Happens Next by Terry Trueman - Free Book Online Page B

I appreciate your cooperation and I’m sorry to have interrupted your day. Thank you.”
    Mom says, “Thank you.”
    The cop doesn’t say anything more until they get to the door. “You take care.”
    â€œWe will,” Mom says. A couple moments later, his car door slams and his engine starts.
    Mom watches as the police officer drives away. She turns to Rusty and says, “Shall we dig up Debi’s body from the garden now?” She laughs. “I know, not very funny, but can you imagine that little pill calling 911 because I scolded her?”
    Rusty stares at Mom intently. “And a better question,” Mom says, shaking her head, “is why am I talking to a dog?”
    Rusty glances at me, and I wonder if he’s thinking, “You talk to Shawn all the time too, and he never answers!”

20
    W hen Debi gets home, Mom welcomes her like she does every day.
    â€œHi, Debi,” Mom says.
    â€œHi,” Debi says, as happy and cheerful as can be.
    Mom lets her set down her lunch box, her purse, and her backpack.
    Debi comes into the kitchen.
    Mom says, “Debi, you called 911 this morning, didn’t you?”
    Debi doesn’t say anything, just stops dead in her tracks and stares at the floor.
    â€œDebi,” Mom says again.
    Still silence.
    Mom, “You need to answer my question, Debi. I’m not mad at you, but we need to talk about this. You called 911 this morning, didn’t you?”
    Debi stares at the floor for what seems like about a hundred years. Finally she speaks so low I can barely hear her. “Yeth, Linny.”
    Mom asks, “Were you afraid you were in trouble for cutting up my family albums?”
    Debi says, “I sorry.”
    Mom says, “It’s all right—we love you, but you can’t call 911 unless there is a real emergency, do you understand?”
    â€œI sorry,” Debi says.
    â€œWere you afraid, Debi?”
    â€œMad.... I sorry.”
    â€œYou were angry?”
    â€œI like McDonnos.”
    Mom smiles. “I know you do, Debi, and we’ll go there for lunch on Saturday if you promise no more 911 calls unless the house is on fire, okay?”
    â€œYeth,” Debi says.
    Now Mom says, “You can’t call 911 every time you get angry.”
    Debi nods and says, “I sorry.”
    Mom gives her a hug, and as they are hugging, Debi asks, “Can I say some’tin?”
    â€œOf course, sweetie,” Mom says.
    I think to myself, this is Debi’s eureka moment. She’s going to own up right now, take responsibility, and apologize beyond her rote “I sorry” line. She’ll show that she understands what happened and why Mom was so upset. She’ll apologize!
    Debi hesitates, but finally she speaks. “What’s for dinner?” she asks, as if the whole previous conversation never even occurred.
    Without missing a beat, Mom answers, “How about some homemade split-pea soup?”
    â€œDat sounds good,” Debi answers.
    But this is what she says every afternoon when she gets home. It’s part of her ritual. Every day she asks “What’s for dinner?” and I’m convinced Mom could say, “Spoiled, sour-owl poop and a bed of rotting maggot-covered e-coli spinach,” and Debi would respond with “Dat sounds good.”
    But who am I to poke fun at Debi? She can’t rise above her limitations. And how is that any different from anybody else? Everyone has limits and blind spots. Being human means having a mix of both strengths and weaknesses. I think the majority of people who see Debi and me focus on our weaknesses and are oblivious to our strengths. I know I’ve been ragging on Debi, but she always tells the truth, or at least tries to, and she’s got a great sense of humor. Plus she never acts out of cruelty.
    I, of all people, know what it feels like to be misunderstood. And I’ve got that whole weaknesses thing