How to Be a Normal Person Read Free Page A

hadn’t wanted to know. He told her as much, but she went on and on as to how it could be just as common for women as it was for men, how she wasn’t ashamed of it because of all her nice wigs, and she would show him her balding head if he truly wanted to see it. He hadn’t. She showed him anyway. She was seventy-two.
    Betty kept her hair cut short these days, shorter than even Gus had his own. While Bertha and Bernice wore dresses under their pink jackets and sensible shoes, Betty wore jeans and chaps and boots with silver buckles that jingled as she strutted. The other two called her a bull dyke, and Gus wasn’t quite sure what that meant. He wasn’t quite sure he wanted to know what that meant. Gus found it was often easier to not ask questions. People left him alone more that way.
    But not the We Three Queens. They’d roared into town (well, as much as a Vespa can roar) three days after Pastor Tommy was put into the ground, claiming they were going to cross the country. They’d started out in Ashland, Oregon, and only made it 67.8 miles to Abby and decided they liked it enough to stay and forgo a scooter trip across America. They stayed in the only motel in Abby until they could finalize the purchase of a house and never left.
    And for some reason, they adored Gus.
    At first, Gus had hated it. His father was dead. He was in mourning. He wore black wherever he went and growled at anyone who tried to talk to him.
    But they came into his store, day after day, deciding they would rent alphabetically to watch every movie in the store, one at a time. Currently, they were on the C s. Gus had thought to point out that there would be no way they’d finish the entire selection before they croaked. Somehow, he’d managed to keep that thought to himself.
    They’d seen his grief for what it was and took it upon themselves to shape it into something worthwhile. He’d resisted, of course. He wouldn’t be Gus if he hadn’t.
    Now, though? Now he tolerated them. Mostly.
    “Gustavo,” Bertha greeted, holding the door open for the others. “I’m glad you’re alive today.”
    “That’s debatable,” Gus said. “Every moment we live is another moment we’re already dying.”
    Bernice giggled as she reached over and pinched his cheeks. “You know,” she said, “it takes more muscles in your face to frown than it does to smile.”
    “That’s not true,” Gus said. “You’ve been lied to. It takes twelve muscles in your face to smile and eleven to frown. Medical science is fact. Not your Internet memes you share when you have nothing interesting to say.”
    “Oh boy,” Bertha said. “It’s one of those days, is it?”
    “No,” Gus said. “It’s the same as always.”
    “Hmm,” Betty said, leaning in close to inspect Gus’s face. “His scowl is a bit more pronounced today. Maybe a centimeter or so.”
    “I smiled,” Gus insisted. “In the mirror this morning. It was awkward and I regret it ever happened.”
    “Did you flex again too?” Bernice asked, running her fingers up his arm. “Big strong man, you.”
    And god, did he regret the day he ever told them that. “No. I don’t do that anymore. That was one time. Or whatever. Shut up.”
    The We Three Queens stared at him.
    He stared right back.
    “Gus,” Betty finally barked, and he stood a bit more at attention without even meaning to. Apparently Betty had been in the military for years before she retired. She didn’t seem quite able to let that go. “Inspirational message for the day!”
    “Ugh,” Gus said, firmly regretting all his life’s choices.
    “Now, cadet!”
    “I’m not your—”
    Her mouth thinned. That was not a good look. Even Gus knew better than to fight that look. One did not want to face the wrath of a biker (Vespa) lesbian.
    “There is no elevator to success,” Gus grumbled. “You have to take the stairs.”
    “Oh, how true!” Bernice exclaimed, clapping her hands. “What a lovely sentiment.”
    “You have to work