The Perfect Star

by Rob Buyea

  I wiped my face and sat up. My tears didn’t stop, but neither did I. “I can’t move, Mom. I know you love Jacob, but I can’t move. I can’t leave my friends. I can’t leave Gav.” I fell apart, sobbing all over again.

  “Oh, Randi.” Mom pulled me close. “We’re not moving, honey. I wouldn’t ask you to do that. Is that what you’ve been worrying about?”

  “Yes,” I croaked against her shoulder.

  “Randi, I’m not going to uproot you now. Jacob doesn’t want that, either. He wants to come and stay with us.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. You’re getting ready to start high school, and you’re right, you’ve got a very special group of friends—especially Gav.”

  I sat back and wiped my face again. And then I told her about the funny feelings that I’d been having. “Mom, is it okay if Gav feels like more than a friend sometimes? I don’t know how to describe it, but it’s just different with him.”

  “Yes, it’s okay. Feelings can be confusing, but one thing is for certain—you and Gav have a special relationship. What comes of those feelings, only time will tell, but something tells me you will always be in each other’s lives.”

  “Should I say anything to him—about my feelings?”

  “That’s a tough question. You can…but I wouldn’t. The two of you have been able to read each other for as long as I can remember, so maybe let destiny handle this one and save the talking.”

  “Mom, I really like Jacob.”

  “Me too.”

  “I’m sorry. I was scared.”

  “I know. It’s okay. You’ve been through a lot this year. Hopefully we’re over the hump now and it will be smooth sailing from here.”

  We hugged once more, and Mom stood up to go back downstairs with Jacob.

  “Mom, don’t tell Jacob I was upset, okay?”

  “Don’t worry, honey. I’ll take care of Jacob.”

  I went to wash my face before rejoining them downstairs. I still had a lot of questions, but they could wait. The biggest one had been answered. I wasn’t moving.

  NATALIE KURTSMAN

  ASPIRING LAWYER

  Kurtsman Law Offices

  BRIEF #19

  January: An Epiphany

  It was a successful double date, but you’ll get no kissing and telling from me.

  * * *

  —

  Moving on. Once we got past the holidays and things slowed down a bit, Mother and I agreed it was time we went to see Mr. Holmes again.

  Sheriff Martin remembered us from our previous visit, so he didn’t have any concerns. We still had to pass through the metal detector and send our bags down the X-ray belt and adhere to all the other rules, but I wasn’t questioned again. Instead I was welcomed.

  Mother and I took our positions in the visitors’ area and waited. Suddenly I became nervous. What if Mr. Holmes declined to see us because he was angry? We’d told him we’d be back sooner, but life had gotten hectic after Mr. Davids’s accident. Had we broken his trust? I was prepared to hear that he was refusing the meeting, but the door opened and he appeared.

  Mr. Holmes took his seat in the chair across from us. “Wasn’t sure I’d be seeing you again,” he said. “Your family have a nice holiday?”

  “Mr. Holmes, I apologize for not returning sooner—” Mother said.

  “We had every intention,” I cut in, “but Mr. Davids got hurt in a terrible accident, and we’ve been busy helping his family.”

  “I saw that story,” Mr. Holmes said. “How’s he doing?”

  “Better,” Mother replied. “He’s home now, but he still has a long road ahead.”

  “And his kids?” Mr. Holmes asked.

  “His children and wife are well. Everyone’s just relieved that Mr. Davids is on the mend.”

  “That’s good,” Mr. Holmes said. “I had Stephanie donate some money to their page. It wasn’t much, but we did what we could.”

  I was lucky that Mr. Holmes was staring at the table, because I did not do a good job of hiding my surprise when he said that.

  “When you get locked up, you tend to have more time for thinking. Self-reflection, I guess you’d call it.” He paused. “Stealing that booster club money was bad, but the way I treated his kid was worse. And when you get right down to it, me and that Davids guy aren’t all that different, are we? Shows how ignorant I was.”

  epiphany (noun): a sudden insight into the essential reality or meaning of something

  One could disagree with me, but I do believe that Mr. Holmes had had an epiphany. Clearly he had done some serious self-reflecting! It was a moment met by silence because it was that significant.

  “Mr. Holmes, I also created a GoFundMe page for your family,” I said when it felt okay to speak again. “I did it shortly after my first visit here. I shared video clips of Robbie and told your story on my morning news show at school. Everyone fell in love with Robbie, but I wasn’t able to raise as much as I’d hoped. The page is still active, though, so there’s always a chance for more.”

  Mother showed him a printout of Robbie’s page with the most recent balance listed. Mr. Holmes couldn’t take the paper because of visitor rules, but he saw it. Must have been that all the reflecting a man got to do in prison had made him softer, too, because his eyes got wet almost immediately.

  “You did this?” he said, looking up at me.

  I nodded. “Yes.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I’ll be contacting your wife,” Mother said. “There’s enough there to help her get a physical. Then we’ll see what we can do about an insurance plan. We’re going to make sure she’s healthy.”

  “Thank you,” Mr. Holmes said again, and then, abruptly, he stood and turned away. He made haste toward the door.

  Mother and I made no attempt to stop him. We began gathering our things. Clearly this meeting was adjourned. But then—

  “Natalie,” Mr. Holmes called. He’d paused at the doorway and was looking back at me. “You’ll be in the high school next year, right?”

  “Yes,” I answered.

  “If you see my older boy, maybe you can tell him his dad says hi and that I’m sorry.”

  My eyebrows pinched. I was confused.

  “Nicky won’t come and see me. He’s angry. Can’t blame him.”

  The man was in prison because of his own poor choices, but I couldn’t help feeling bad for him. “I’ll tell him,” I said.

  Mr. Holmes nodded, and then he turned and left.

  Not surprisingly, I’d say that the word that best summed up how I was feeling when leaving the prison that afternoon would be “conflicted”—or maybe “torn.” This was hard.

  “We’re calling it a wrap, people,” Scott hollered, trying to sound all professional after another airing of The Razzle-Dazzle Show. We’d been back to school for a couple of weeks and had found some semblance of normalcy after a crazy December—but for Natalie, “normal” meant “boring,” so she’d decided it was time to drop her next big idea on us.

  “Before you all run off, I have an announcement,” she said. “With the exception of Scott, who sees his grandpa on a regular basis, the rest of us are long overdue for a trip to the Senior Center. I propose a visit this weekend.”

  “I’ll second that motion,” Mrs. Woods said.

  “All in favor, say ‘aye,’ ” Scott yelled.

  “Aye!” we shouted.

  Done. It was that easy because we all agreed it was a great idea—but I knew better. “Hey,” I whispered, getting Natalie’s attention when we were packing up. “What’s the hidden agenda this time?”

  “What do you mean?” she said, playing dumb.

  “I’m sure you’re sincere about wanting to see Eddie and Agnes, but I know you better than
that.”

  She giggled. “I think we should throw Mrs. Magenta a baby shower, but I’ve never attended nor planned one before, so who better to ask for advice than Eddie and Agnes?”

  I smiled. “Told you,” I said.

  “Yeah, yeah. So, what do you think?”

  “What do I think? I think we’re going to throw her the best baby shower ever.”

  “I know. I can’t wait.”

  * * *

  —

  The six of us carpooled, so we arrived together. We found Eddie and Agnes and everyone else hanging out in their new favorite spot—the Community Theater. Long gone were the days of the Community Hall.

  “Well, if it isn’t our favorite troublemakers,” Eddie announced when we walked in.

  “Troublemakers?” Natalie repeated. “Who’re you calling troublemakers?”

  “Well, you sure don’t let the grass grow under your feet,” Eddie remarked.

  We smiled. She was right about that.

  “Sit down,” Agnes ordered. “These old rascals won’t let us put anything on but some stinky football.”

  “Stinky? Agnes, this is the NFL playoffs,” Mrs. Magenta said. “Dad never misses these games.”

  I glanced at Coach. He sat in his wheelchair, staring at the TV, but I wasn’t convinced he was watching. Mrs. Woods and Mrs. Magenta were by his side. Gav took a seat near them, but I wasn’t sure if Coach even knew he was there.

  “Oh, enjoy your foolish game,” Agnes said. “Eddie and I would rather hear all about Connie Stewart and Good Morning America anyway.”

  “We were watching when Meggie stole the show,” Eddie whispered.

  I started from the beginning, with the accident. I kept my voice low and that part short because Gav didn’t need to hear it all over again. He’d been asked to tell the story too many times already. Eddie and Agnes were fine with the abbreviated version, but they wanted all the juicy details about our adventure trip, especially when it came to New York City and Good Morning America.

  “Wow!” Scott suddenly yelled. “Grandpa, did you see that? They just ran my secret-weapon play!”

  “I saw it,” his grandpa responded. “Didn’t look as good as you running it.”

  I thought that was sweet.

  “Dude, that was sick,” Mark said, giving Trevor five.

  The guys were going on and on about that big play, but not Coach. I could sense Gav worrying.

  Natalie elbowed me, getting my attention. “We wanted to ask you to help us with a new project,” she mentioned to Eddie and Agnes.

  “Are we getting paid?” Eddie asked.

  “Very funny,” Natalie replied. Then she lowered her voice to a hush and filled them in. “We would like to throw Mrs. Magenta a baby shower, but we’re not sure what to do. We’ve never attended one.”

  “Well, you’ve come to the right women,” Agnes said. “Eddie and I know just what you’ll need.”

  “That’s right. We’re the party animals,” Eddie said.

  “Ugh!” Agnes groaned.

  Natalie and I fell into a giggle fit. Those two never stopped. They were too funny. It took us a minute, but after we got ourselves calmed down, we refocused and turned serious again.

  We spent the rest of the afternoon planning the shower, and we got Mrs. Woods in on the action. She told us where Mrs. Magenta had registered, which meant she had gone through a store and selected all the items she and Mr. Magenta needed and would like. Natalie pulled the registry up on her phone, and we couldn’t believe how much there was on it. You need a lot of stuff when you’re having your first child—a high chair, car seat, Pack ’n Play, crib, diapers, baby books, bath stuff, clothes and bibs, and on and on. We went through her list and came up with a solid game plan for who would get what, because presents were the whole point of a baby shower. We decided when to have the party and what the theme and food and activities would be. Mrs. Woods wanted to have the party in the Community Hall so that all residents at the Senior Center could attend and so she could keep an eye on Coach. It was a productive meeting, so Natalie was quite pleased.

  There were two minutes left in the football game when we finished, so I convinced Natalie and Eddie and Agnes to watch the end with me. The Steelers had the ball and needed to get into field goal range to kick for the win. They made a couple of quick passes and got out of bounds to stop the clock. Then they tried Scott’s secret-weapon play once more. The guy for the Steelers danced down the sideline and into range before stepping out of bounds.

  “Go! Go! Go!” Trevor yelled.

  “That’s how you do it,” Scott cheered. “That’s how you run my play!”

  “That’s great clock management by Roethlisberger,” Gav said, talking about the quarterback for the Steelers.

  “And heart,” Coach croaked.

  Gav’s face lit up. That was the first Coach had said all day, but it was enough for Gav.

  The Steelers’ kick was successful, and the boys went nutso hooting and cheering. They didn’t even care who’d won. It was just an exciting finish.

  “Okay, Coach,” Mrs. Woods said. “What do you say we get you back to your room for some rest now?”

  Coach reached for Gav before Mrs. Woods wheeled him away. “Valentine,” he rasped. Gav leaned closer, and Coach grabbed his arm. Coach’s voice was weak, so the rest of us couldn’t hear what he was saying, but I could tell from Gav’s face that whatever Coach was saying carried weight.

  Coach released Gav’s arm and closed his eyes. Then Mrs. Woods wheeled him off.

  “What’d he say?” Scott wanted to know. “What’d he say? Was it something about football?”

  Gav shook his head, but that was all the answer we got. He needed to hold that moment close and not talk quite yet. He’d share when he was ready. When the time was right.

  Those Good Morning America people didn’t lie. They said they’d check on us again, and they did. After we got Dad home and made it past the holidays, someone from the show called and talked to Mom. The short story is that one of their main reporters, Connie Stewart, came out to our house to do a follow-up story.

  Getting interviewed for an important TV show like that was a pretty big deal, so there were a lot of players involved. Ms. Stewart’s team included lighting and makeup and camera people. It was like she was the quarterback of an offensive unit, except they didn’t ride together on a bus like we did. They had a string of cars. Me and Megs greeted Ms. Stewart when she got out of hers, and we showed her into our house. Mom and Dad took over from there.

  The rest of her team got busy carrying in their equipment and setting up. There was a whole bunch to do to get ready, even more than in pregame warm-ups.

  I wanted Woods and Magenta and the Recruits here for this, but that didn’t happen ’cause of bad timing. The girls were at the Senior Center for Magenta’s baby shower. Kurtsman and Randi had helped plan the whole thing. Trevor and Mark made it over, though, and Scott was on his way, ’cause guys didn’t normally go to that shower stuff. But if you want to know the truth, I woulda gone if I coulda ’cause I hadn’t stopped thinking about Coach since our last visit. It wasn’t just what he’d said but how he’d said it. “Keep making me proud,” he’d rasped, making it feel like goodbye. I wanted to get back there, but I hadn’t made it ’cause things were busy with Dad being banged up, and I needed to be home.

  “Hi!” Scott cheered when he arrived. “Did you bring those yummy cookies and pastries like you had in the studio?” he asked the first person he saw.

  The woman shrugged.

  “Check in the kitchen,” I told him. “Trevor and Mark are in there now.”

  He beelined. I woulda joined them, but it was my turn to get ready. The makeup crew sat me down and blasted me with their bright lights. Then they started messing with my hair and putting stuff on my face. Meggie loved it
, but not me. The only makeup I ever used was eye black. I looked worse after all their fussing, but Connie Stewart was happy, so the filming began.

  The taping of the show went well. Connie Stewart talked to everyone in our family. She had a conversation with Mom and Dad together. Then she talked to Meggie and Otis, and then me. She chose to have me go last, and I was fine with that ’cause I was nervous. Scott told me it was training for when I was gonna be in front of all those cameras on Monday Night Football, so I’d better get used to it. That did the trick. I liked that thought.

  When it was my turn, the first thing I did was thank everyone who’d helped save us, ’cause Mom and Dad had taught me about manners. Then Connie Stewart asked me her questions, and I knew the answers until she asked me the big one. “Gavin, have you learned anything from this experience that you’d like to tell the people watching?”

  I stopped, taking a minute to think.

  “Ms. Stewart, we make a big deal out of how different we look and sound, but when push comes to shove, I think we’re a lot more alike than we are different. I know a father who I swore was nothing like my dad, but turns out he’s a lot the same. Richard Holmes made mistakes and tough choices for his family after he lost his factory job. Maybe he did things my dad never would, but like my dad, he was trying to protect his family in hard times. It’s crazy to think we have so much fighting in the world when so many of us want the same thing. I don’t know if that makes any sense.”

  “It makes plenty of sense, Gavin.”

  “Mr. Holmes has a son my age and a son, Robbie, who’s Meggie’s age. Robbie and Meggie are friends. There’s a GoFundMe page for the Holmes family, too. Natalie did a story on them for our Razzle-Dazzle Show and we’ve started raising money, but not as much as they need. Maybe some of the people watching your show would want to help them a little—’cause what I’ve learned, Ms. Stewart, is that love really is greater than hate.”