Happenings in Paradise – A Surprise Reaction

Distance was measured in time in Paris. If you had to walk from your house to the post office, it was 10 minutes. If you had to walk from there to the school, it was 12 minutes. And if you had to go from the school to the tiny building that housed the Paris Bulletin, it was about 15 minutes. If you had a watch, which Norma didn’t, you could time it accurately, and never be late for anything.

Guessing the time, and ensuring she wasn’t late for her appointment with Mr. McCaskill was the easy part. The hard part was getting through the Sunday that followed his phone call, and making it through her five classes on Monday. At last she was on her way, and only a few minutes from “getting it over and done with”.

Norma dreaded this meeting. She imagined all the possible things Mr. McCaskill would say—things like, “Well, what can I expect from someone from the country,” or “Your teacher said you’re smart, so why aren’t you?” Norma shook her head, she didn’t know where she got these ideas. Mr. McCaskill never said mean things to her, only let a few cuss words fly if she misspelled something or was too slow with her typing. But even when he swore, it sounded a bit like joking, so she was never afraid.

Something sweet to relieve the pain

She was only moments away from the office when she passed the pharmacy. Peeking in, she could see that old Mr. Toby wasn’t at his counter, only his wife at the cash machine. That was perfect. Mrs. Toby never gossiped. In fact, she never spoke to anyone. If she had an opinion about the article on the talent show, she wouldn’t say anything. Norma stood in the street for a moment, feeling around in her pocketbook for her money, and finding a dime, she ducked in and bought what she was craving, a chocolate bar.

Norma’s steps slowed as she stretched out the remaining moments to the office, tearing off bits of the wrapping as she nibbled, savoring the O’Henry sweetness. This was a treat. Usually Norma curbed her appetite, limiting the sweets she ate. It wouldn’t help anything to be fat, her mother always said. Life was hard enough.

Mr. McCaskill wasn’t where she expected to see him, sitting at the front window, surveying the street, his cigarette hanging off of his lip, the ashtray overflowing next to him on the desk. Seeing that his jacket was slung over his chair, and a half finished page was inserted in his typewriter, she thought he might be in the back room, which was clogged with old papers and supplies, but he wasn’t there either. When the door thumped open, and he finally arrived, carrying two styrofoam cups of coffee, she was fingering an outdated paper which was lying on the counter, pretending to read.

“Oh, thank you,” she said, when he held out a cup, “You didn’t have to do this.”
“Yeah, I know,” he said, “Peace offering?”
“Sure,” she said, and pulled out a chair to sit opposite his desk.
“But you don’t have to make it up to me. You didn’t do anything wrong. I was the one who messed up.”
“Well, now, let’s just think about that,” He propped his chair on two legs and leaned back to take a long look at her. As always, Norma wondered what he saw—a serious prospective writer, or a country bumpkin?

A surprise reaction from McCaskill

“So you think you messed up.” he began, ” But you know, you wrote a good piece on the talent show. Only you didn’t just report on it, you wrote what you thought about it. And that’s dangerous ground. Usually only the editor does that, and usually it’s reserved for the editorial. So you gotta leave that part to me.”
“Sure,” she said, and to her horror, a tear trickled down her cheeks. “I’ll remember. I’ll never do that again.”
“Well, for Gawd’s sake, it’s not a punishment,” he said, suddenly exasperated, “I’m just trying to teach you how to write for a newspaper. Do you, or don’t you want to get better?”
Norma’s tears dried as quickly as they appeared. She got up and stood on the other side of the counter.
“Of course I want to improve,” she said, “And I will. You’ll see.”

With a beckoning motion, McCaskill indicated the meeting wasn’t over, so Norma came back to her chair.
“Don’t you want to see the letters? There were two of them. Nasty stuff.”
“No, I don’t want to see them, just tell me a little about them. Were they mostly about Sally, or were they about me?”
“They were mostly about Sally. Ripping the poor unsuspecting girl to shreds,” he said, his tone now sarcastic,
“Seems that she has been tearing around this town for years, offending the sensibilities of the good law abiding, God fearing country people.”

“I know all about those people,” Norma said, “And the sooner I can get away from them the better.”
“Well, don’t leave town yet,” McCaskill chuckled, as he waved her off, “You’ve got lots of work to do here.”
“By the way, we won’t be printing a retraction. The article stands.”

Norma smiled to herself all the way home. As she put her hands in her pockets against the gathering chill of the late afternoon, she felt the chocolate bar, only half eaten. Passing a garbage bin, she tossed it in.

To be continued.