Happenings in Paradise – Norma, the Professional

Norma’s elation lasted for days. Suddenly, it seemed, opportunities for reporting opened up in front her. McCaskill, her adversary, sharp tongued, flippant, never caring where his remarks landed, was now her champion and friend.

“Not bad”, he would say, scanning the new copy she had pushed across his desk, “Looks like you concentrated on the facts.”
Running his nicotine stained thumb along the left edge of the paper, and holding it up so she could trace his progress, he mumbled as he read.

“Fact, fact, fact,” he scanned down the paper, suddenly pouncing on a awkward phrase.

“What’s this, ‘Her wedding dress was beautiful, and matched her shoes.’? Firstly, the dress doesn’t match the shoes. Even I, heathen that I am, know that. The shoes match the dress, no?”

“Oh, yes,” she murmured, “I’ll fix it.”

“And secondly,” he continued, “The dress wasn’t beautiful. What a lame word, Norma. It was stunning, it was covered in lace, it was shimmering white, pick one. But don’t say it was beautiful, for Gawd’s sake!”

Laughing, he tossed the copy on the counter, and headed for the door.
“I’m off to conquer the advertising dragons,” he said, “Have a nice day, and when you get tired of wrestling words and phrases, go home. Don’t forget to lock the door.”

Norma shook her head slowly, as he left. She realized she was smiling, grinning from ear to ear. Sorting through her week’s notes, bending over the typewriter, gazing out of the dusty window into the street, Norma felt like a true reporter. She could call in at a critical town meeting, drop in on an accident victim dying in hospital, she could speed from scene to scene, asking clipped and searching questions, taking furious notes, always on duty, on the job.

Norma Wraps up her Day

At six, Norma broke for supper and started her walk to the Jasons’. It was the middle of September, and the evening was still warm. Norma shucked her jacket as she walked, then took her sweater off, allowing the evening rays to warm her bare arms. She was always sad at this time of year, the respite of the hot summer behind her now, and winter glowering on the rim of the horizon. People joked about the oncoming winter, knowing the depth and breadth of it in their bones, the shortened days, the harsh winds and bitter cold, the long nights. Some, like Norma’s mother, felt most threatened in September, as if they were interlopers during the summer, when the sun’s rays lengthened and warmed the earth, playing havoc with their memories of the previous winter.

“I can’t bear to think of another winter, Norma,” she would say in July. “Why can’t it be like this all year? I could like this country then. I could stay here.”
But September would come, and the nights would chill, and winter, like a dingy blanket, would settle over the next seven months, until the entire world, it seemed, longed for spring.

The children, hearing her enter the house, made a beeline for her, Bonnie, running to her and clutching her around her knees, almost knocking her over, Dennis clamoring for attention from his walker, and Lori standing solemn and quiet, expectantly holding a book to be read. She did everything they anticipated, the hugging, the pats, the murmuring words of interest in their day. Her exhaustion took over as she contemplated the half set table, and the pots simmering on the stove, there would be carrots to peel, potatoes to mash, no doubt, dinner to finish and serve.

Responsibilities loom at the Jasons’

But today, Laura Jason surprised her, as she sometimes did. As Norma entered the kitchen, she could see almost everything was done, and Laura, wearing an apron over her double knit suit, and proffering a pretty smile, seemed the perfect housewife, worthy of an advertisement in Chatelaine.

“Ah”, Norma remembered, “Bridge Day.” Mrs. Jason was always happy after a rousing bridge game, when she could be somewhere else, away from her children, and having a good time. Fortunately for Norma, the event was held in the afternoon, and the children were tended by Mrs. Jason’s mother, who would start making dinner before she left. On these days, Norma would roll her eyes up toward heaven and thank Mrs. Evert for her intervention in her daughter’s life.

Today, as she finished changing the baby, then reached for Lori’s book, preparing to quickly read a story to the children, Norma’s eyes flicked to the bureau in the dining room, where on a rare day, a letter waited for her. But there was nothing there. Disappointment spread through her, and settled in her shoulders. She gave her body an irritated shake, as if she could dislodge the sadness, dispel the feeling that once again, the people she loved had let her down.

Norma’s mind wanders

“Wonder what they’re up to”, she would think, “Doreen living at the top of the world. Her last letter three weeks ago, described a life full of parties and fashion and friends. She didn’t really have to wonder about her mother’s life—she knew well enough what she would be doing. Her mother still existed in a tender trap of her own making, pretending she was living out her dream.

“Oh, Norma?” It was Mrs. Jason, calling distractedly from the kitchen, serving up dinner and detaching a child from around her knees, “I forgot to tell you. There was a long distance call for you. The girl from Peace River. She wants you to call her back.”

To be continued on October 9, 2016