Outside the Ordinary World Read Online Free PDF

Emmie, careening around like a tiny water buffalo, slipped on the newly washed floor and crashed into his stool as he was bringing the mug to his lips. He sprang to his feet, cursing. Coffee streamed down his fingers, the leg of his jeans, splashed across Emmie’s bare arm. She plopped on the floor, mouth gaping, silent for a good thirty seconds before the wail erupted. I watched as if in a dream, noticing for a split second her perfectly white teeth, the gums as smooth and pink as a salmon, the tongue a small amphibian.
    Then the scream came. I thought the glass in the windows might splinter. No one can scream like Emmie; not even Hannah as a baby could have held a candle to that scream. Finally jolted into action, I snatched her up, kissed the frizzy head, plopped her on a stool and started rummaging in my backpack for Band-Aids. But he was ahead of me, ready with a blue handkerchief soaked in ice water. He applied it to the reddened skin of her arm and she allowed it, this child who for six months had clung tenaciously to Nathan’s and my legs, refusing anyone else’s touch. She’d stopped screaming and was just whimpering now—the pathetic whine of a newborn pup. Hannah inspected the jewelry boxes in the corner, oblivious or embarrassed. There is nothing so mortifying as being almost thirteen with a noisy, obtrusive family.
    “I’m so sorry,” I apologized, indicating his soaked jeans, the soggy New York Times.
    “Yeah—luckily the coffee here isn’t that hot.” Without looking up, he tended to the burn, dipping the blue cloth back in his water, pressing it to my daughter’s skin. She watched him obediently, as if she were his patient, so I watched, too—the dark curls swarming over striking, olive-skinned features. He looked distinctly familiar, the close-cropped beard edged with silver, sinewy hands that matched a compact frame. Finally he met my eyes. His, behind wire-rimmed glasses, were fiercely green, unsmiling.
    “I’m terribly sorry.” I was starting to feel annoyed at his seeming refusal to absolve us. Hadn’t he been around preschoolers before? Didn’t he know these things happened? “She’s always a bit wound up in the mornings, and—”
    “How do I know you?” he interrupted. It might have sounded like a line, had he not said it so crossly and had I not felt so incapable of being hit on. My frizzy reddish hair was clamped in a haphazard ponytail, I was dressed in ten-year-old jeans, muddy clogs and Hannah’s purple tank top—the kind with the built-in shelf-bra that threatens to squeeze you in two. Also, I was exhausted, and knew I had dark circles the size of portabella mushrooms.
    Eveline, the proprietor, shuffled over with a mop in one hand, a pink lollipop in the other. “Is she okay? I’ve got ointment in the back.”
    “She’ll be fine, thanks.” I accepted the lollipop. “ This will be the best medicine.”
    “I have the lolly now, Mommy,” Emmie demanded, her plump, violent fingers curling around the white cardboard stem.
    “And I heard what you said about my coffee, Tai. So next time it will be extra scalding—you better not go spilling it down your pants.”
    “Ev, you know I love your coffee,” Tai muttered with flushed cheeks. “Otherwise, why would I sit here drinking too much of it every damn Sunday?”
    “Don’t curse the Lord’s day.” Eveline shot him a scolding glance, mopping up the mess.
    “I guess I’m in trouble,” he whispered, taking the damp rag from Emmie’s arm, patting the top of her head. “And there’s no other coffee joint in this town. You have to— Ah, I’ve just remembered.” His features were transformed when he smiled. It was a huge smile, insanely joyful somehow, despite teeth that were pointed and small.
    “Remembered what?” I asked as Hannah crept up behind me. She tugged on the strap of my tank, then snapped it rudely against my skin. “Han, cut it out.”
    “You’re an artist. My son Eli took your printmaking