The Funny Thing about Norman Foreman by Julietta Henderson (sci fi books to read .TXT) 📗

to be responsible for taking anything that could masquerade as comfort away from Norman. He’d lost enough. I sidled into the bedroom, delving into the depths of my sadly lacking motherlode in search of a gem and came up with a tin can.

‘Of . . . of course he is, Norman. I’m sure of it.’

‘But Mum?’ I knew what was coming. Sometimes Norman’s cleverness is not in my own best interests. ‘You don’t believe in God, though. So how . . . how can you be sure of it?’

I’d have renounced my atheism on a sky-high stack of Bibles right then and there if I’d thought it would help, but I knew Norman would never buy it. I sat down on his bed and he budged his little body over to make room. In the semi-darkness the lumps and craters of his psoriasis looked like a beautiful miniature landscape on his face. I stroked his forehead gently, playing for time and fooling nobody.

Oh, Jax, where are you now, you lovely little bugger, with your smart mouth and your theories on everything? I knew exactly what he’d do in this situation, though. He’d put his hands on his hips, poke out his chin and stare right down the barrel. He could have you believing anything within seconds, that kid, even as he was disposing of the evidence against it right in front of you. So, in honour of Jax, I gave it my best shot.

‘Well, I . . . I never said I didn’t believe in heaven, Norman. It’s just God I’ve got a problem with. But you know, there’s got to . . . I mean, I’m sure there’s definitely some kind of better place we go when . . . when we die. Where people don’t get sick and everybody gets on with each other and there aren’t any wars or traffic jams or gas bills. And you can eat all the chocolate and fried food you like and not get fat.’

I was on a roll. This was way easier than I’d imagined it would be. It was almost invigorating, and if this was how Jax felt, the kid might have been even smarter than I’d thought.

‘And so . . . well, if there is a place like that, which there is, do you really think our Jax would even dream of missing out on it?’ I was quite proud of my deft quickstep followed by a sidestep. Until Norman hit me with his doublestep.

‘So then, Mum, if there is a heaven, that . . . that means Granny and Grandad are there too, right?’ I realized I was just being blown off course by one shitstorm into another.

‘Mmmm.’

‘So then, do you reckon they would . . . that they might be keeping an eye out for Jax? Do you reckon it matters if they don’t know what he looks like? And do . . . do you think they know he’s my best friend?’

I knew my limitations. ‘Norman, have you brushed your teeth tonight? I smell cheese.’ I reached over to pat his leg, and it felt like stroking a ruler. His already tiny frame was becoming even thinner, and it scared me how small the pile of Norman under those sheets and blankets was.

‘Hey, Mum?’ His voice was so soft I had to lean right in to catch it. ‘I reckon you’re right, though.’ My heart did an extra pirouette then stubbed its toe on the way round just to show me who was in charge. There he goes, still trying to make you feel better, Sadie.

Seconds ticked by like omnibuses and, when it became clear to both of us there would be no more reassuring motherly advice forthcoming, Norman unfurled out of the bed. He still had his school uniform on underneath his pyjamas. I stood up and wrapped both my arms around him as tight and close as I dared without knocking the top off a scab or hurting him and wondered if it were possible to hug the sadness out of someone. Squeeze and squeeze so hard that it just pops out the top of their head like a pimple, and then all that’s left is for time to do its work and heal it over. I felt Norman’s hip bone press against mine as he squeezed me tighter, too, and I wondered what he was trying to pop out of me. Answers, probably. Chance’d be a fine thing.

When I heard the tap running in the bathroom sink and the hollow sound of Norman’s methodical teeth-brushing, I sank back on to his bed and rolled into the shallow imprint he’d left behind. I lay there, in his musty, boy-smelling dent and tried to imagine what it felt like to be a kid who’d lost his best and only friend in the world. Bad. It felt bad. I had to stop after just a few seconds when my chest threatened to cave in on itself.

From the bed, I could see the poster Norman and Jax had made a couple of years before hanging above his bookshelf. I knew everything on it by heart and after seeing it up on the wall for so long I barely had to look at it to know what it said.

JAX AND NORMAN’S FIVE YEAR PLAN

Edinburgh Fringe 2023: For One Night Only.

Norman and Jax – Teenage Comedy Geniuses!!!

Steps:

1. Get to the Edinburgh Fringe, baby!

2. Get famous

3. Get rich

The yellow cardboard was way oversized for the sparse lettering of their five-year intentions, but the lack of literary substance was made up for by the abundance of carefully stuck-on photos. Jax and Norman had worked on that poster for a whole weekend, debating the position of every picture, the colour of the writing, the best adjectives to describe themselves. ‘Teenage Super Fucking Comedy Geniuses’ had been one of Jax’s suggestions. It had been grudgingly vetoed, due to the risk of alienating an older audience and a younger audience not actually being allowed to come. A fairly astute decision, in my opinion.

Photos of Jax and Norman in various poses