As the lady speaks, the photos change. All the photos show the same man.
“But today, Arthur has no use for money. He gave it all away when he became a freegan. Now Arthur survives solely on what he obtains from his environment. We’ll find out how a man goes from high roller to dumpster diver when I sit down with Arthur and the family he left behind, next on…”
The man’s face is gone and now I see rows and rows of people sitting in a theater. A tall lady in a skirt shows up from behind a curtain and she walks easily in her high heels down to the front of the stage. Her smile is sweet, but not too sweet, which is how Principal Hershwin is. If the audience claps any harder, their hands are going to break off and fly away like butterflies.
The lady says, “Who loves you?”
And the crowd shouts, “Mindy!”
She waits for the people to quiet down and she tells us more about this Arthur guy. I can’t get interested in Arthur because I’m more interested in the way Mindy is talking about Arthur, like he’s someone really important. “Please welcome my guest, Arthur Ballibloc.”
The audience whistles and cheers and claps and I want to join in but I have no idea what we’re so excited about.
Arthur looks nothing like his photos. He’s not fat anymore and his teeth are muddy and his beard looks like something a mama bird would try to raise her babies in.
I’m so focused on what’s happening on the TV screen that I don’t hear Mom walk past me on her way into the kitchen. “What are you watching?”
I grab the remote control and turn off the TV. “Nothing.” I hop up off the floor and go downstairs. I hurry through the studio instead of taking my time because it doesn’t give me the best feeling to be here anymore now that it’s so dark and no one is using it.
Gavin’s door is only a little open so I make it all the way open. He’s in bed, staring up at the ceiling. I hop onto the mattress and crush his foot by accident. He seems annoyed, but beds are supposed to be jumped on and it’s not my fault his legs are so long.
“Have you ever seen The Mindy Love Show?” I ask.
He speaks in a very lazy voice. “Isn’t that one of those sad daytime talk shows?”
“No, everyone on the show is very happy,” I say, opening up my journal in case I need to look at my notes. “Do you remember how Sydney said I should be on TV? Well, someone from The Mindy Love Show called Mom and it sounds like they want me to go on their show.”
“Good for you,” he says, but not like he really means it.
“I think you should come with me and we can play our song on TV.”
Gavin smiles, but only because he feels bad for me.
“Think about it,” I say. “It’s perfect because this way even if we don’t win the contest, people will still hear our song.”
“I appreciate the offer, Joan. But I don’t think I’m up for it.”
Ever since we rode the train back home from the chicken restaurant yesterday, Gavin has been in one of his quiet moods, the kind he was in when he first came to our house. But I can’t let him be quiet now. I need him to sing.
“You’re lucky that people know who you are,” I say. “I’m still trying to get people to know my name because they can’t remember it unless they know it first. Don’t you want to help me do that? I can’t play the song without you. You’re my partner.”
There’s something wrong with his face. He looks exactly like a blackbird today. There’s a shadow all over him. “Yeah, well, I’m not a very good partner.” He lets out a long breath, like I’m making him very tired.
“Yes, you are,” I tell him. “You’re a great partner. We just need a new project. We can’t just lie in bed for the next two months.”
“Two months?”
“That’s when they announce the finalists for the contest and then later in the fall they have the ceremony in New York and they choose a winner and they put the winning song on their website so the whole world can fall in love with it.”
I go into the studio and find the ad for the contest on Dad’s desk and bring it back to Gavin. I can’t believe I never showed it to him before.
He reads the front of the ad and turns it over to look at the other side but the other side is an ad for something else. “Joan, look, I think it’s cool that we did the song. And I appreciate you letting me be a part of it. It came out great. I think you should feel really proud of it. I am.”
It sounds like he’s about to say but.
“But,” he says, “I don’t think you should get your hopes up about this contest.”
“Why? You don’t think we can win?”
“I’m not saying that.” He tosses the ad onto the bed. “I just don’t want you to get hurt. You’re putting so much into this and sometimes things just don’t go like you plan.”
I remember him saying the same thing to me once before, back when we were talking about why he and Sydney didn’t have a baby. And now he’s turning his head to the wall and I’m turning my head to the door because I know exactly what’s happening here: he doesn’t want to have anything to do with me now that I’ve already shared all my Sydney memories.
It’s like when the smartest girl in the class, Wendy Wang, asked to be my partner for the trivia game on Wednesday, November 14, 2012, and I thought it was weird because Wendy never seemed to pay attention to me before and all of a sudden she was acting so nice to me. But then after we lost the game she was bored with me again and I realized she wanted to be my partner only because she thought my memory would help her win.
I’m all by myself again and I’m surrounded by only sad things, the studio and Grandma Joan’s birthday and Gavin, except the studio isn’t something I can make be any less sad right now, and the same goes for Grandma Joan, but maybe that’s not true about Gavin.
I slap my forehead very loudly. “Okay, I guess I have to tell you the truth now. I lied when I told you there were no more Sydney memories left. I actually have one more.”
He rolls over. “What are you talking about?”
“I didn’t want to tell you before, but now I’m ready to tell you.”
“Joan.”
“Let’s get started. It’s February fourteenth. No, I mean February fifteenth. Yes, February fifteenth, 2013. It’s a Friday. Sydney is walking through the door. Look at him. He looks so nice with his shirt and his pants, they look like blue pants, yes, they’re blue pants, and of course he’s not wearing socks because he hates socks and there’s his bracelet, which you’re wearing now. Wow. He looks so great. His ears are very long too. I see that. They’re so long. And do you want to know what he says? He says, ‘Hello, Miss Joan,’ and then I say, ‘Hi, Mr. Sydney,’ and he says, ‘How are you?’ and I say, ‘Good. How are you?’ and he says, ‘I’m good,’ and then I say, ‘How is Gavin doing?’ and he says, ‘Oh, Gavin is home in California and he’s doing great and I love him so much.’”