Sam stands and grabs his duffel bag—one he borrowed from Earl—carrying it into one of the rooms.
I turn back to the TV but it’s just commercials. I’m about to change the channel when suddenly there’s a picture of Sam. Sam as a little kid, and Sam now—a still from the news conference. A voice says, “This week, an exclusive—” I switch it off. I look over at where Mom was but luckily she’s now in one of the bedrooms. Earl too. I stand and walk to the window, look down at the street as cars and taxis whiz by. A woman walks by on the sidewalk in a puffy coat. I think, if that woman watches the interview, she’ll know who we are, she’ll know all the horrible truths about our lives. She’ll think, what an incredible story, and then flip the channel and get on with her life. I think how amazing that is, and how unfair.
===
The format for the show is simple: The whole family will appear on camera in a group interview. Then just Mom and Earl. And then we’re done.
Just as Mr. Walker said, the TV network sends over hair and makeup people that morning after we eat breakfast. They invade our suite like they’re long-lost relatives, familiar and aggressive. There are two people for each of us, carrying makeup cases and wheeling in racks of clothes.
Sam’s up first. But before they do anything, Mom makes him take his piercings out.
“I can put them back in after, right?” he asks, sounding almost panicked. It’s the first time I’ve seen him show this much emotion, and my heart sputters from the surprise of it.
“We’ll see,” she says. But I know she doesn’t want to see those piercings ever again.
Slowly, carefully, Sam takes the piercings out and places them on the table. I can tell Mom wants to brush them into the garbage, but she rummages in her purse and empties an Advil bottle. “We’ll keep them in here for now, okay?” He nods, touching his lip, looking pained.
I wish Sam would look over at me, so that I could smile and reassure him. But he doesn’t meet my eye.
Next they start to work on Sam’s hair, trimming it down to the normal length for a preppy young boy. Instantly, Sam seems transformed, closer to how he looked when he was a kid, the way I always remembered him.
“That looks cute,” I say.
He looks at himself in the mirror in a mournful way, touching his head, but then he smiles. It’s a fake smile. A smile to signal he gets it. He has to look different.
Eventually two young women—Sheila and LaVonne—whisk me away to the bedroom. Sheila’s in charge of the clothes and she holds up countless pants and blouse combos, then skirts, and thankfully we settle on something that doesn’t make me gag—a charcoal-gray skirt, white blouse, with a maroon sweater on top. Preppier than I’d like, but dressing up once won’t kill me. LaVonne gets to work on my makeup and hair. “You’re a natural beauty, so we won’t glob it on you, okay, hon?” she says. I nod, feeling myself blush.
While LaVonne does her thing, I close my eyes. It feels nice to be pampered, though when she says, “Take a look,” I open my eyes and look in the mirror and I don’t look all that different. My cheeks are a little flusher, and the eyeliner highlights the brown of my eyes a bit more than usual, and my lips are pinker and fuller, but in a natural way. My light brown hair has been trimmed to make it a little more even—less all over the place, the way it can get. But I can recognize myself. And I start to think, with a little embarrassment, I should spend more time on my appearance from now on.
“What do you think?” LaVonne says.
“Not bad,” I say, smiling at myself, then at her. Then I add, “Thank you,” and she pats me on the shoulder. I wish Chita and the girls could see me now. They would probably tease the hell out of me. And Donal would—no. I can’t think about him right now. I have enough confusion in my life; I don’t need more.
I go out to the main room and everyone is dressed up. Mom’s wearing a blue skirt suit and Earl’s in a coat and tie. Sam’s in khakis and a blue button-down, looking nothing like he did a few hours ago. We look like the perfect family, headed to church.
A chubby guy with a clipboard barges in. “You guys ready?”
I look at Mom, and she looks at Sam, and Sam just stares down at his feet. I guess we’re all sort of shocked that this moment is here. It’s Earl who says, “Yes, sir.” We follow the clipboard guy and some other people up the elevator to the penthouse. The elevators open onto a smaller room, like a foyer. The clipboard guy leads us down the hall and into a huge room crowded with equipment and people. Glaring lights are set up around a setoff area with a chair and a big couch.
“Ah, here’s Ms. Winters,” I hear someone say.
A woman strides down the hall. She’s shorter than I thought. She’s wearing a plum-colored dress suit, with a blue silk scarf tied around neck. Her fake blond hair is poofed impeccably. She’s got tons of makeup on, you can tell. Up close she looks stitched together, like she’s made of cracked porcelain and if you pushed your thumb into her skin she might break into pieces. She smiles at all of us, clearly a smile she’s used to busting out on cue.
“Thank you all for coming up here. I’m so honored to meet you.” Then she zooms in on Sam. “Young man, you’re an inspiration to us all.” She takes his hand and pats it and then clasps both hands on top of his. “You’re very brave to share your story.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” he says, looking at her old, small hands.
She laughs. “So brave, and so polite!” And then, she lets go of his hands, turns and calls out “Are we ready?” to no one in particular. We all take our places on the couch, waiting for cameras to roll. Mom, then Sam, me, then Earl. The lights shine at us like hot little suns. A makeup artist comes over and powder puffs our faces. My heart starts pounding, and I have to remind myself that we’re doing a good thing, that this is for college, that we’re giving hope to other families. Calm down. As if he can sense my nervousness, Earl pats me on the knee. I give him my left hand and he squeezes it.
Helen Winters takes her seat and shuffles her notes. Someone comes and touches up her hair, and I can see some tech guys adjusting the lights, a few other people hovering off to the side, including a guy with an earpiece. She’s unfazed, sitting there, and after a bit she looks over at us, giving us a reassuring smile.
Sam reaches and grabs my hand, and Mom takes his free hand, and now we’re all linked, like a family chain. And though I’m still freaked about the idea of being on TV, I’m a little calmer knowing we’re all in this together.
The guy with the earpiece counts down from five, then says, “Rolling!”
Ms. Winters directs her first questions at Sam. The questions are obvious: How do you feel being back home? What was it like seeing your family again after all these years? Tell me about the moment when you first saw your mom’s face.