Seeking Normal

By Lisa Loomis

Brittanie Reese knows she has a disability, heaven knows she’s been told enough times, and living in a dysfunctional family only intensifies her inability to fit in.

Desperately seeking to be viewed as a normal kid, she is shaken to her core when the school places her in the special needs program. Tormented daily by being labeled Britt struggles with her identity and disability. When she finally reaches high school all she can think about is putting the devastating experience of being a special needs kid behind her.

When a teenage boy starts to pay attention, Britt naively believes his intentions are pure. What happens next will shatter her and her family’s thoughts of normal.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lisa Loomis
• Release date: Oct 1, 2018
• ISBN: 9781726340168

Lisa Loomis

Lisa Loomis was born in Oakland California and raised in San Jose until she was a sophomore in high school. Her father then took a job in the San Diego area where he moved the family to Escondido, California (or hickville as she called it). She finished high school at San Pasqual High then went to junior college at Palomar JC, ultimately graduating from San Diego State University with a BS in Finance. Lisa started a career in mortgage banking in San Diego, California, briefly shifted to a corporate job as a territory sales representative, and then back to mortgage banking in 1996 when the family moved from the San Diego area to Park City, Utah. The move to Park City was prompted by a desire for a lifestyle change. Both she and her husband Dennis wanted to raise their two children in a smaller town environment that was still close to a large city. In Park City Lisa not only ran a mortgage branch but simultaneously helped Dennis run a successful construction company, Loomis Construction. Working full time, running a construction company in off hours, and raising two children was never easy but Lisa seemed to handle it all pretty well until the financial meltdown of 2008. That is when the wheels came off...completely. Finding both her career in mortgage banking and the family business almost vanish overnight Lisa went back to a passion she’s always had, writing. It took Lisa almost four years to write “Boy In A Band”, stopping and starting, telling herself she couldn’t write a book. Once it was written Lisa foolishly thought the hard part was finished. In the last ten years Lisa has continued to help her husband with their construction business as well as spends time writing. Lisa’s currently lives and writes in Park City, Utah. She has been married for twenty-nine years and enjoys spending time with their grown children who live in Salt Lake City. Self-published books on Amazon.

Book preview

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LISA

LOOMIS

Seeking Normal

ALSO BY LISA LOOMIS

Morgan Mallory Series

Boy In A Band

Casanova Cowboy

Racing Through Cornfields

Back To Boardwalk

Other Novels

A Horse Named Joe

Gem Rats

Seeking Normal

Just Bairre

A Short Memoir

Stolen Dreams

Children’s Books

Finn & Geo’s Winter Adventure

Short Stories

Pelican Grand

Copyright © 2018 Lisa Loomis

The right of Lisa Loomis to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the publisher.

www.lisaloomisbooks.com

Third Edition

ISBN 978-1726340168

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

With thoughts for everyone who has ever wanted to fit in.

Seeking Normal

Chapter 1

Martin—February 2012

I felt her presence before she touched me, the feeling we’ve all had at night with our children, as if they are watching you. I had been sleeping lightly for weeks as we approached Britt’s due date. I had been anxious enough with my own children and now my daughter was having my grandchild. Any sound in the house would have me sitting up to listen, wondering if it was Britt, if it was time. Worry about how she would handle the birth once it was actually happening. The nine months of her pregnancy had been tortuous, so many emotions, so many people’s opinions, most of them unsolicited and unwanted. I was emotionally drained and at this stage, the only one I could listen to was Britt, she had the right to make the call. Just two days ago Darby, my sister, had pressed Britt again to change her mind.

Daddy, she said, touching me lightly.

Britt, I’m okay, I said sleepily.

I had been sick with a nasty virus and in bed for a few days and she had been checking on me constantly. Having rarely stayed home sick from work, she’d treated me like a little mother hen, asking if I was all right and if she could get me anything.

Daddy, I’m having the pain, the contrac… she stammered. I think the baby is coming.

I turned over and sat up quickly. I could see her silhouette in the dark.

How long have they been coming? I asked, rubbing my eyes.

They just started.

I looked at the bedside clock, and it showed one eleven in its pale blue face. She hadn’t felt well at dinner, thought maybe it was something she ate earlier in the day. I had noticed she’d only eaten a few bites, but I hadn’t mentioned anything. My thoughts had been on getting dinner on, picked up, and then back to bed.

Hand me my sweats, I asked.

Britt picked my grey tatty sweats up off the chair across the room and handed them to me. I rolled onto the edge of the bed and slipped them on before I turned on the bedside light. The light blinded me a second, and I rubbed my eyes again. When I looked up at her, she too was blinking from the bright light. I smiled to myself seeing she was wearing an oversized shirt of mine, an old 49er T-shirt, something she had taken from me, and slept in often. The T-shirt was like a security blanket to her, it comforted her. She grinned, but it was awkward, and I sensed a little fear. I ran my fingers through my hair, knowing it was probably standing up on end, looking goofy.

They always choose the middle of the night, why is that? I said to myself.

Britt looked at me in question. It was the look she got when she was thinking through what I’d said.

Did I come in the middle of the night?

My thoughts went back to the early morning Britt had been born at our home in Oceanside, California. A time Melinda and I had been happy together. We had chosen a midwife nurse, like Britt had chosen, to assist, right in our bedroom. I recalled the sheer joy that had filled me when I first saw Britt’s tiny face.

Yes, you did, kept me up all night, just like your baby is going to do.

She gave me an exaggerated frown.

I’m sorry, Daddy, Britt said rocking from side to side as she hugged her pregnant belly.

No, no, don’t be sorry, Britt, it’s okay, I said, reassuring her as I walked to the dresser and pulled out a T-shirt. Are you in a lot of pain?

I walked back across the room and put my arm around her shoulders. Her skin was smooth and warm and she smelled like vanilla, the body wash she used. It had taken her nearly till high school to give up the baby lotion she’d liked. I pushed a piece of blonde hair back over her shoulder. The same piece I’d been pushing back for years, the one that with just a slight tilt of her head would fall forward.

No, it feels like just before I go down a big roller coaster, when I tighten my tummy real tight, but this time my tummy is doing it on its own.

I chuckled. The way she explained things was so child-like in words and tone.

Good description, Britt. Have you been timing the contractions?

No.

Okay, let me use the bathroom, and I’ll meet you in the family room. We’ll time them for a while before we call Sandy.

I was thankful for Sandy Smith, Britt’s midwife. She had been able to come down to Britt’s level and explain things in a way she could understand. We had met Sandy through the classes at the hospital. Britt had liked her immediately, and being her coach, so had I. It didn’t surprise me that Britt had chosen me as her major support as she’d always chosen me over her mom. The father of the baby had pretty well vanished from our lives, which actually pleased me. Little bastard. I could have killed him for lying to her, taking advantage, knowing Britt’s situation.

Daddy, are you scared? Britt asked.

I looked into her blue eyes and sensed her true meaning. I pulled her to me, hugging her tight, rubbing her back gently. This child of mine, this beautiful young girl had made some of the hardest decisions of her life in the last few months, in the face of so much negativity from most of her family. I hated them right now, even more than the father of the baby.

Britt, you’ll be fine. Women have babies every day. I’ll be there, I’ll always be there, I comforted. Meet me in the family room, okay?

She turned and left, and I staggered to the bathroom my head pounding. I shook aspirin out of the bottle, threw them down my throat, and chased them with water before I washed my face. I knew this could be it, or not. False labor happened, and she was a little early. I looked in the mirror and felt as old as I looked. I had bags under my eyes, and my face looked sunken, my already pale skin even paler. Part was due to being sick, part due to stress. This pregnancy had taken its toll on everybody, but especially me because I had to be so many things to Britt with little outside support. I put on my moccasin fleece lined slippers and walked down the hall to the family room. Shuffling along I hoped it was false labor, worried with how I felt it would be a very tough night. I found her sitting on the tan leather couch in the family room, twisting one of the pink baby blankets she’d received. She was staring at some late night movie with the sound muted, her socked feet resting on the wood coffee table. The room was messy as I hadn’t felt up to straightening it and the girls hadn’t bothered.

Okay, let’s start timing the contractions, I said as I sat down next to her.

I massaged her back through the much-loved shirt, the fabric soft and worn. It wasn’t long before she went stiff and leaned backwards, clutching her belly.

Ah,’ she whimpered as she tried to focus on her breathing.

Little puffs, in and out, I reminded.

With a pained expression on her face she breathed in and out, in and out, until the contraction was over. She sat forward again and looked at me as if to confirm this pain she was feeling was okay.

It looks like your having contractions, I confirmed.

We’d talked and talked about what they would feel like and Britt always tried to compare them to something, like a time she’d skinned her knee, or period cramps. Sandy would carefully explain that contractions would be more painful although it was different for every woman. She’d explained how the contractions were nature’s way of pushing the baby out.

Yes. I’m trying to remember everything Sandy said about how it would feel, she said anxiously. How to breathe and everything.

Can I get you anything, something to drink or eat? I feel like you ate so little at dinner. If the baby’s coming tonight, you’ll need your strength, I said, sounding silly, even to myself.

I’m fine, Daddy.

Running the back of my hand across my hot forehead I looked at the 52" TV and realized that the movie had lots of explosions, fire, glass breaking, color after color flickering into the dimly lit room. It was enough to make me dizzy.

What are you watching?

"Die Hard. I wasn’t really watching, just using it to make me forget about the pain."

Oh, I said.

I looked at the watch in my hand, a gold one I’d gotten as a gift from work, one I didn’t wear often. It was the only one I had with a second hand. Only a minute had passed since the contraction had stopped.

I’m going to the kitchen to get some juice or something, I said, feeling dehydrated. Hold the watch in case another one comes.

I dropped the watch into Britt’s small hand and made my way to the kitchen. I opened the fridge in the darkness, and the light spilled onto the slate tiled floor. I kicked off one slipper and felt the coolness of it on my foot, wishing the feeling could seep into my body. Shakily opening the alder cabinet, I got a small plastic cup, and poured myself some apple juice. I took a quick sip, put the clear plastic container back, and trundled back to where she sat.

Anything?

Nope, she said, handing me back the watch.

The juice tasted cold and crisp in my dry mouth. I sunk down into the couch and we both stared at the TV as we waited.

Ohh, Britt cried as her body went stiff again, and she started to make the puffing sounds. Fa, fa fa, oh.

I looked at the watch and six minutes had passed. To get that down to three minutes apart could require hours. I rubbed her shoulders and back as she rocked forward until the contraction had passed. Britt leaned back into the couch and took a deep breath.

Was Nicole still up when they started? I asked.

She’d gone to bed, Britt answered her jaw clenched.

Even though Nicole was my youngest, she was very protective of Britt. Despite her being very young at the time, she seemed to sense something had changed with Britt’s accident. The first accident in our family. I couldn’t help but think about Jordan. He had been a Britt protector also. Her two siblings always wanting to make things right for her and yet unable to. Jordan’s death had been a major shock to all of us, but Britt took it the hardest, in part because her brain didn’t know how to deal with it. I missed him everyday…twenty-two was just too young to die.

Ah, Britt yelled. Oh Daddy….

We’d struggled through several more contractions but the time apart hadn’t changed. I looked at the watch with hope and it had only been five minutes.

We’re down to five minutes Britt, I encouraged.

Call Sandy.

Each time she had a contraction my heart ached for her. I knew she didn’t fully comprehend what having a baby entailed, even as much as she protested that she did.

She said they should be closer, I sighed.

Call her Daddy, please.

Britt’s worried expression convinced me to give in.

Okay, okay, I said patting her arm as I stood.

I knew any instruction would be better coming from Sandy anyway. I lumbered to my bedroom to retrieve my cell phone and had a moment of sheer panic when it wasn’t on the dresser where I normally left it. Searching the room I found it on my nightstand remembering that I’d spoken to Brenda, my girlfriend, before I’d gone to sleep. I scrolled down my contact list, found Sandy’s name, and pushed call as I went back out to the family room. Britt watched me anxiously as I waited. It rang and rang and then went to voicemail.

Sheese, I said.

What? Britt asked, just as another contraction seized her.

As she moaned I sat down on the couch and took her hand.

It’s okay, breathe Britt. You’re okay.

My hand felt sweaty against hers as she squeezed it tight. When the contraction subsided I pressed Sandy’s number again.

Hello, she said quietly, sounding surprisingly alert.

Sandy, it’s Martin.

I was just going to call you back. My phone was in the other room.

Britt’s gone into labor, I rushed. We are about five minutes apart right now, maybe a little less. I know the contractions need to be closer, but I wanted to let you know.

Hearing her voice calmed me, knowing she would be there when the time got serious.

I appreciate that since it’s late. How’s she doing?

Good, she’s doing good, I chocked out, smiling at Britt before I was racked by a fit of coughing.

You all right? Sandy asked when I stopped.

Yeah, darn flu or something, it’s had me down for days.

Bad timing for the bug, since a baby is coming. So sorry. Call me when she gets closer to three minutes apart, then I’ll want you to head on in, Sandy said.

Okay, how long will that take? I asked apprehensively.

Sandy chuckled quietly.

Every baby is different, I really can’t tell you.

I hung up and looked at Britt. I knew from the classes that it could be hours and even days. I worried about my ability to hold up as her coach.

We have to get down to three minutes apart, just like they told us in class, I said with a grimace.

How long? Britt asked.

I don’t know.

I silently prayed it wouldn’t be days. We sat on the couch watching Die Hard with no sound, timing the contractions. I’d fall asleep between them only to hear Britt groan. My body ached and would go from hot to cold in an instant as I tried to soothe and encourage her. It took two hours before they started to get closer. Each time they got a little closer I could sense the relief in Britt.

Britt, you’re doing really good, I commended with much more strength than I felt.

Thanks, Daddy, she said, leaning her head on my shoulder.

I stroked her long hair. I pictured her the day she was born, the little wrinkled face, with just a spot of blonde hair, wailing like there was no tomorrow. It was the blue eyes that took me in completely the first time she opened her eyes. They seemed as if she had an old soul, as if she knew more than her tiny face should. They were a color of blue I couldn’t have imagined, light blue, almost translucent. The doctors had told us that many times blue eyes changed color, but hers never did. They stayed the same blue as the day she was born. Britt had grown into a pretty young girl, but she didn’t think so and all the teasing she’d taken from her peers over the years had affected her self-confidence. Teasing, frustratingly, I’d not been able to protect her from.

It was a little before three in the morning when the contractions got to be three to four minutes apart. The closer they continued to get the more I felt certain it wasn’t false labor. I was really surprised at how well Britt was handling the labor, focusing and breathing through every contraction as Sandy had told her to do. She’d just had another one. Oh so close to three minutes.

Can we go now, Daddy? she asked nervously.

I felt like it was close enough to head to the hospital, besides I needed help or I wasn’t going to make it through the birth.

I’ll go wake Nicole. You call Sandy, and we’ll go.

Nicole didn’t wake grumpy as she normally did instead it was like the Seven Dwarfs, hi-ho, hi-ho, it’s off to the hospital we go. I waited feeling a bit delirious as she threw on the clothes she had laid out on her dresser in anticipation.

When did they start, Dad? she asked, zipping up her jeans.

Britt woke me about one, and we’ve been timing them ever since, I answered.

What time is it?

"A little after three. She’s having them about every three to four