What Passes For Normal

Chapter 17

I'm worried this is all about to explode on me. That's what I get for my sudden pathological need for truth-telling. The truth will set you free? Uh, more like the truth will ensnare you in its diabolical trap and slowly crush you.

Ow, my fucking head...

I don't know if it's meth withdrawal or all this supposedly healthy food Neea's been feeding me but I feel like hell today.

I check the boxes next to "Healthy Lunch" and "Drink Glass of Water" on the checklist Neea has posted for me on the fridge. Already checked for today are: "Good Night's Sleep", "Healthy Breakfast" and another "Drink Glass of Water". I leave unchecked a third "Drink Glass of Water", the two "Exercises" and "Reading," as well as "Healthy Dinner" and "Doing Something Creative". Neea and I will go for another walk, which will be one "Exercise" and I'll do some yoga stretches or something later for the other one. For something creative I'll just draw some stick figure mayhem in my notebook.

So yeah, I finally christened the notebook Neea bought me. For days I would stare at the first page trying to think of something brilliant to put there but nothing came. I'm not brilliant at the best of times, and lately isn't the best of times. Anyway, it was the stick people who came to the rescue. Page one ended up being a big swimming pool and waterslide with stick kiddies having all sorts of gruesome fun. Now I'm multiple pages into it and, while there are a few sort of cryptic and weird journal entries, it's mostly stick folks and their shenanigans.

And now my parents are coming to Victoria. It's only the second time since they brought me here I don't know how many months ago when they got me set up at Yvonne's place ready for university life. They were proud as punch back then but I expect it'll be a different story this time.

Do I tell Dad that he was right, that I should have lived in residence? Things would probably be very different now if I hadn't been so insistent on living off-campus so I could avoid having to try and fit in with what I figured would be an incredibly irritating assortment of first-years. Am I too cynical and smug for my own good? Whatever. I made my choices.

Today is what I would rate an average day in my recovery ordeal: generally feeling crappy, achy, irritable and depressed, interspersed with moments of feeling even worse. At least I've avoided one of my awful spirals into misery and anger, those emotional core-meltdowns that I can't seem to stop once they start. I know even at the time that whoever's on the receiving end—generally Neea—doesn't deserve my wrath, but I can't always control it.

They were supposed to come to town today, but Pat decided it was more important for them to have Thanksgiving dinner with my brother Kev and his family than to come here and, as far as they know, save me from drug addiction and potential Finnish-lady kidnapping. And, really, it makes perfect sense when you understand my mother's priorities. Kev comes first, obviously, then Kev's wife, Danielle, Danielle's entire family, followed by Kev's old hockey coach, Kev's business partner, Blake, and pretty much anyone Kev has ever met. After that comes Dan, first-born but of the three siblings, a distant second in value.

You'd think I'd come after Dan, but in reality it's probably more like: Gran and Gramp Guerin, Aunt Yvonne and Uncle Paul, Mrs. Thorwald next door, the doctor, the dentist, Gary who works on the car, a few more I haven't thought of, then, on a good day, me.

• • • •

One of the two servers for the catering company was a girl named Rebecca and she was quite hot, so Teddy was initially okay with the catered meal for Thanksgiving Dinner. Gabby was there too, of course, and looked amazing, but she was with a male friend named Sam. Teddy was annoyed by Sam's presence, but still, he was in a pretty good mood.