What Passes For Normal

Chapter 4

When you live on the street, no one is polite to you. In fact, lots of people who would never be rude to the average stranger have no problem treating street kids like something to be scraped off their shoes. It's kind of the full-circle, self-fulfilling side to this lifestyle choice we've made. Just by being street kids, we provoke exactly the kind of reaction from normal society that confirms our beliefs about the evils of normal society. See how that works?

And yes, our particular lifestyle is a choice we've made. Sure, some people are out on the streets because they've run out of options, but some of us have chosen to be there because we think the modern world is messed up and we want no part of it.

So anyway, when Teddy excuses himself and gets up from the table as soon as he's finished eating I figure maybe Neea will be less Miss Manners and more herself but, on the other hand, without Teddy there, there won't be a tall, moody, good-looking boy to gaze at. Teddy dutifully clears his dishes and puts them in the dishwasher before leaving.

"I'm meeting up with Jello and Byron for a while," he says to Neea. "Won't be late."

Jello and Byron? Uh, interesting friends ya got there, Ted. Of course, I'm picturing a silk-shirted poet and a large, wobbly, transparent red cube. Before Teddy leaves the kitchen he does something that I wasn't expecting: he leans down and kisses his mother on the cheek. No big deal, I know, but after all his tense awkwardness, this little shining moment of sincere affection hits me like a warm and fuzzy kick to the chest. That doesn't mean I'm longing to feel that kind of closeness with my own mother, it's just nice to see, you know?

Uncharacteristically, I don't feel like firing off a sarcastic parting shot as I watch him leave the room. Instead I'm just thinking I'll probably never see this guy again. Not a lot of overlap in our social circles. When he gives me a reluctant glance on his way out I just kind of shrug as if to say "oh well."

After Teddy's out the door, Neea confides, "He's not really comfortable with change. I'm sorry if he came across as rude. He's really not like that, but... he's a teenage boy."

Neea gives me a knowing smile and gets up to clear the table. I get up to help her.

"Let's just put them in the sink for now, sweetie," Neea says. "I'll clean up later. I'd rather sit and chat for a few minutes, OK?"

Sweetie. Are all Finnish people this nice? I watch the cheerful, blonde-haired woman move around the kitchen. I wonder if Teddy thinks all mothers are like his mother? Does he know that some moms go around making everyone think they're nice while at the same time finding a million petty little ways to make you feel worthless? I bet he has no idea how lucky he is.

When we're sitting down again Neea picks up the wine bottle to refill her glass, then stops. "Would you like some wine now?" she asks. "Oh, but maybe you're not old enough yet?"

"I'm legal. I'm nineteen."

Neea gets up and takes another wine glass from the cupboard and fills it for me before refilling her own.

"Ei tippa tapa ja ämpäriin ei huku," she says with a smile. "We say that in Finland. 'A drop won't kill you, and you can't drown in a bucket'... It doesn't really make any sense!"

"Ei tippa... ja, uhhh..." I feebly attempt.

"Ei-tippa-tapa-ja-ämpäriin-ei-huku!" Neea says, even faster this time.

We touch our glasses together. "It's true," says Neea, "I guess I do speak Finnish when I drink!"

Seriously, is this the weirdest day ever? I live on the street, not in a house with a name. I don't sip white wine and have giggles with Finnish ladies. I suck on a meth pipe and hang out with a bunch of outcasts and deviants. None of this makes sense.