Little Drummer Boy

Chapter 3: Normal

Chapter 3: Normal

I used to wonder what normal was a lot, if I was normal. I mean, to some people, I might be. They see someone who goes to school, who has a good family, who wants to do something with their life. I’m like them, so I seem normal. But then others see me and wonder why I’m wasting time with school. They see that I actually have two parents in the same household when they have been so many places they don’t have anyone to call mom or dad. So to them, they’re the normal ones, and I’m weird.

So, I guess I can’t call things normal, because for some people, they’d be anything but. However, if I could, that’s how I’d describe our dinner.

Despite some occasional forgetfulness such as not remembering to turn the oven on, or forgetting it was on thus setting off the smoke detector, Mom’s a pretty good cook. Our dinners were never that fancy, we ate from paper plates to cut down on dishes, and we had takeout a bit more often than one would deem healthy. But that night, we had a normal family dinner around the kitchen table. Mom made some type of chicken covered in mushroom soup, some potatoes, and some biscuits, though I couldn’t help but noticed there were some burnt biscuits sitting at the top of the trash can.

I’m not going to say the dinner was bad, it certainly wasn’t, but it wasn’t something I’d call amazing. Jace though, well it didn’t take him long to clear his plate for the first time. He then seemed so eager when Mom offered him more. It took him a second to accept it though, like he was feeling guilty for eating so much, but he had trouble refusing for long. It made me wonder how long since he’d had a meal like this, if ever. It’s normal for me to eat like this, more food fixed than we can eat in a night, a lot of care and work put into it.

Jace seemed eager to talk to my parents now too, or at least, more so than earlier.

“You enjoying it?” Mom asked.

Jace swallowed a bite of chicken and looked up with a big smile and nod. “This is amazing.”

“I made plenty, would you like more?” she asked, after he had finished his second plate.

“You should make sure Caleb has enough too,” Jace said, looking over toward me. He had noticed my plate was empty now apparently, and I saw there wasn’t much left on the counter.

“No, it’s fine. One plate is enough,” I said. “It’s your first night here, you should enjoy it.” That wasn’t a complete lie. I wasn’t hungry anymore. Normally I would eat more, just because I wasn’t overly full and the food tasted good. But really, what right do I have to it, when someone else is enjoying it so much?

“What are you used to eating?” Dad asked.

Jace flinched for a second as he lowered his fork back down to his plate, resting the piece of food there. “Ren didn’t really cook.”

“Was Ren your mom?” Dad asked.

“No. I guess she was kind of like one.” He took his bite, though his face contorted, like he was remembering something he was sad he’d never see again or that he was glad to be rid of. He then looked up at my mom. “This really is great.”

Mom gave a slight laugh as she sat back down. “I’m glad you like it so much.”

“She’s a great woman,” Dad said.

From there, the conversation drifted to things a lot lighter. Jace seemed to listen as we talked about school, jobs, him asking a few questions of his own when he felt comfortable enough to, but never seemed to talk much. We knew not to force him. We were curious, wanted to know what his history was so we’d know what was best for him. But sometimes we didn’t need to know all these answers. We loved him; he was part of our family. Maybe it wasn’t by blood, but by choice, and that’s all that matters when it comes to love.