“Come on now kid, work with me here! Please?” I beg.
She rolls her eyes. But finally, finally, finally she nods yes.
I get up and rush to my seat when I’m told. I don’t want to screw anything up! I blow a kiss to my Jens who came again to see me on my big day. I see Carl has added lowlights to their hair. They give me a loud cheer that boosts my spirits as I sit down.
The interview starts up again.
“The audience wants to know all about the shiner I got the last time I saw you,” he points to his eye as if anyone could possibly miss it. “I wouldn’t have guessed that little Riveredge, Michigan could be so dangerous.”
“Yes, you got a black eye,” Gwendolyn says, like a hostile witness.
“How have you been spending your time since your friend beat me up?”
She looks out to the audience. Most of the people seated on the long, metal benches seem really interested in how she’ll answer, like she’s an old friend who has been away a while, and they’ve been wondering how she’s been. Her expression gets softer and she talks right to them, ignoring Stuart completely.
“I’ve spent a lot of time with my father. He has downsized to a condo in a senior community where he plays poker and shoots pool. I’ve enjoyed getting to know him again; I had been gone for a long time. Over the past week I’ve gotten more settled into my new house. And I’ve been painting quite a lot.”
“So you really do paint? That part was real?” Stuart asks.
That was a terrible thing for Stuart to say and I’d like to tell him so! But the unfortunate truth is that I’ve never been very good at telling off someone in a position of power over me.
Gwendolyn glares at Stuart and becomes hostile again. “Yes.”
“How have you been spending your time, Armand?” Stuart asks, turning to me.
I look at my mother sitting above the other audience members, like they may be the jury, but she’ll overrule anything she darn well wants to, honey.
I chuckle to try and build up some confidence. I remind myself how good I look in this sweater, and these fabulous new jeans. I know my face is red though, and my voice comes out shaky. “Well, you know, a little of this, a little of that.”
“And some of it on television, right?”
“As much as possible,” I agree. My Jens give another cheer and my smile widens.
Stuart lowers his voice, as if this conversation is nothing but friendly and easygoing, as if it’s not being filmed and he’s not going to edit it.
“There has been a lot of speculation about your love life, Armand. Are you dating anyone now?”
Keeping my smile hoisted up is too hard. I let it fall. “No I’m not, Stuart. Thanks for asking.”
“What about you, Gwendolyn? You’ve been photographed with your hometown hotel manager Walter Owens, and the man some tabloids have uncharitably referred to as Scar Face, but who I like to call Right Hook.” Stuart motions a punch and points to his black eye. “Are you dating either of them?”
Gwendolyn looks out at the audience with a slight smile, pretending she didn’t hear the question. She checks her watch.
Stuart calls for another break in the taping and beelines it over to Trey Hammond and Josie. The three of them put their heads together and talk quickly.
I slide into Stuart’s empty seat.
“What?” Gwendolyn asks, real bitchy-like. “Is my hair out of place? Is there a wrinkle in my skirt or another scuff on my shoe that you can’t quite live with, even though you’re always saying that you love the Grand Dame for her imperfections? Do you want to fight over this stupid aquamarine paint on the sofa?” She points to another smudge I hadn’t noticed yet and I wince. “How exactly am I screwing everything up this time? I know you’re dying to tell me.”
“You hate me?” I ask.
Gwendolyn frowns and I worry that if she makes a habit of it she’ll get all wrinkled up. I know better than to mention it right this minute, though.
“I’m just so damn sick of going along with other people’s ideas, and believing other people’s take on what’s good or bad about me, and for me. That’s what landed me here in the first place,” she says.
Stuart wedges between us as the camera light goes back on.
“It looks like you’ll have to be the life of this party, Armand,” he says.
That’s our cue. I reply just like we planned. “That’s no problem!” I say, flashing a big smile. I peek over at Josie on the sideline to make sure I did it right, like a child star to a stage mom. This is my big moment, when I get to announce my new show to the world. I try to pump myself up for it.
Gwendolyn’s got me all confused, though, and I feel like I’m full of holes now, with air whooshing out of me, making me flatter by the second. It’s the same way I felt that afternoon when I was ten and came home from school early to find Reverend Sugarbaker sitting at the kitchen table in my mama’s bathrobe.
Stuart isn’t waiting for me to catch up. He’s going full steam ahead with our plan.
“Tonight we have a big surprise in store. You all remember Armand and Gwendolyn’s journey here with So Perfect, don’t you? For those of you who may have missed it, let’s watch the transformation these two have undergone, from their very first catalog, until now.”
The red Chinese doors over the flat screen TV pull back for the studio audience to watch a three minute history. There are more monitors around the room, we placed them just so. I divide my attention between the nearest screen, my glowering mama, and Gwendolyn, who’s staring at her pumps. I want to tell her what’s about to happen but there isn’t time. I should have told her before, I know I should have.
Four years of me and Gwendolyn, our hair and clothing styles, and our growing coziness with each other are shown on the video. It makes me choke up to see the way we were. I’m scared that I broke us by thinking of me, me, and me again, leaving the poor kid in the dust.
Harsher music starts up and the scandal is rehashed, beginning with the photo of Norman and me that started it all, followed by a photo of Gwendolyn driving out in tears in that ugly beige t-shirt. I cover my eyes to miss the footage of me laughing about the poor kid’s household helplessness. The trip down memory lane ends at Gwendolyn’s stark and empty new house.
Stuart stands and motions for a close up on me.
“How do fans of So Perfect want this story to end?” he asks, looking at the audience, then into the camera. It’s obvious that he’s rehearsed these lines in front of a mirror at least a gazillion times, and he would’ve been way better off winging it. After he pauses for so long, and stares all weird like he thinks he’s his own drumroll machine, he says:
“They don’t want it to end!”
The audience cheers.
I rehearsed my response too, but I don’t want to do it the way I thought I did. I don’t want to be the only phoenix rising up out of these ashes.
Gwendolyn crosses her arms and frowns at me.
Stuart beams like a proud father. “Tonight we’re announcing that Armand is going to have his own syndicated show, produced by our very own WJKS.”
The Jens stand up and shout. I wave to them for a second, but my hand feels heavy. I watch the confetti drop from the ceiling as planned. I peek over to see Gwendolyn looking frustrated, like she’s been waiting seven hours to take a driving test at the DMV.
“Are you excited, Armand?” Stuart asks.
“Yes!” I say as happily as I can.
I toss my arm around Gwendolyn’s shoulder to try and show we’re still a team. And the truth is, the best times I’ve ever had were right here in this house, with Gwendolyn by my side. I realize that I don’t want to do this without her. As the idea gels in my mind, I just announce it, loud and proud.
“And I want Gwendolyn to be right here with me. What do you say, kid?”
“No.”
She answers so quietly I have to ask twice. My arm is still around her, though I feel
her shoulders go rigid and I’m afraid to look at her.
“Did you say no?” Stuart asks.
The audience boos a little, especially those with new lowlights.
“No,” Gwendolyn repeats.
I sneak a peek at her face and she looks like the long wait at the DMV has officially pissed her off.
“Listen,” I say right to her, pretending that we’re alone, wishing we were. “We won’t have to pretend anything. You can escape depressing old Riveredge, move back in here, and we’ll live together again in this beautiful house. I’ll cook for you, Alejandra and Miguel will come back, and it’ll be just like old times. It’ll be even better, because we won’t have to pretend anymore!”
She looks at me, then out to my mama in the audience, then at me again. My smile falls away.
“You’re the real star,” Gwendolyn tells me as she reaches out and takes my hand in both of hers. She looks to the audience and raises her voice. “Right? Armand can do it without me! I’m not much fun without a script anyway. I mean, how many times can you watch someone light a kitchen on fire?” She puts her arm around my waist, like she’s a life ring and she doesn’t want me to sink after all.
“But we’d have fun. It would be real this time,” I beg. I realize I want her here with me more than anything.
She shakes her head. “No. I can’t do it. There is nothing real about this for me, Armand. There never has been, except you, and the other good people I’ve met. I love you. But I don’t want this. I won’t do it.”
“You could paint all day. We’d have so much fun! Maybe bring on guests, and throw parties! What could be more real?” I ask.
“Family. Home. Love.” She counts them off on her fingers.
Stuart perks up. “Are you saying you’re prepared to give up Armand’s generous offer to let you ride on his coattails for your ‘as is’ home in Michigan, your family that’s so small they can all fit inside it, and for love? You mean you actually love Walter Owens, the hotel manager?”
“No.”
“Don’t tell me you’re in love with Scar Face!”
Gwendolyn looks out to the audience. The room becomes perfectly silent and everyone seems to be holding their breath, including me. Finally she smiles warmly and turns to Stuart.
“Yes, actually. Thanks for asking, because I wasn’t sure how I was going to say it on my own. I do love Smith Walker.”
She puts her hand under my chin and I look into her eyes, made so pretty and soft by her expression. “I love Smith Walker,” she says.
I smile because I’ve never seen her look so happy, or so strong.
She looks out to the audience. “I love Smith Walker.” She looks into the camera. “I hope they don’t edit this part out, Smith Walker, because I want you to know once and for all: I love you.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Stuart says, shaking his head like someone just threw up on his shoes.
“Am I done here?” Gwendolyn stands and looks at Trey. “Are we finished? Does this fulfill my part of our agreement?”
He confers briefly with Stuart. Then he nods.
She removes her microphone and walks down the steps from the makeshift stage.
I watch her go.
“Well that’s a surprise, isn’t it? Your unexpected and overly generous offer was turned down. You’ve been passed over, Armand,” Stuart says, shaking his head like he’s never seen anything so crazy.
“Shut the hell up,” I say, putting my head into my hands and leaning over to rest my elbows on my knees. I need to collect myself.
When I sit back up, I look straight out to the judge in the audience.
“Ma’am, I am a gay man,” I say.
My mama glares at me until I break my gaze.
I look out over the audience and take a deep breath. I smile so wide, maybe my gums are showing, but I don’t care right now.
“Everyone, I’m a gay man!”
My Jens jump to their feet and applaud, bless their hearts.
“Wait for me, Gwendolyn!” I call as I strip off my microphone and run after her.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Caroline
Armand is sentimental and nostalgic, and I don’t blame him a bit. It has been three months since his last interview in this house, and he’s been counting down to today with growing excitement.
“There were years that I had expected to be a big deal,” he says. “Like turning sixteen meant I could drive a car, eighteen meant I was officially and legally a grown up, twenty-one meant I could throw away my fake ID, and thirty meant I wasn’t in my twenties anymore.”
He looks to me and I smile. He drinks in approval like a sweet but kicked around dog, like a child who’s had way too much criticism and not nearly enough praise.
“You know Caroline, I just never expected that thirty-one would be so damn transformative. But here I am! And I may as well start the clock over, honey. I feel born again, like my life is just starting.”
“I know what you mean. But we have exactly one hour before the audience files in to their seats, so you’d better go get dressed!”
Armand tried to tell me what to wear today, but I reminded him that I’m not Gwendolyn. I let him choose between the two outfits the wardrobe woman helped me pick, but slapped his hands away when he tried to adjust my bra.
“I’m gay!” he said.
“So? Hands off.”
“I hope you’re not such a prude with that handsome husband of yours.”
“Seriously, I should sue you for harassment!” I said, and he made catlike movements and hissed.
“Takes one to know one.”
When Armand asked me to work on his show, I said no at first. After I thought about it for a while and talked it over with Gwendolyn, I called him back. Armand and I went through some pretty heated negotiations until we were both comfortable.
In order to keep life stable for my kids, I’ll film my little pieces at WJKS’s sister station in Michigan. Occasionally I’ll fly in for special occasions, like today’s taping, but it wouldn’t really fit my position to gallivant excessively even if I wanted to. One of my roles on the show is to be the Cost Conscience.
The idea came up when Armand told me about his idea for a travel feature, which would consist of him going somewhere fabulous, with cameras following him around. He thought Venice first, then maybe Monaco, then Paris…
I didn’t mention the fact that his idea sounded pointless. Instead I asked if he had any idea about the recession we’re in. I suggested that a budget-minded travel segment might be nice. The show could send a family somewhere interesting within minivan driving distance of their home, and help them find ways to entertain themselves and dine inexpensively. Blake helped me demonstrate the idea here in Scenic. He and the kids have been touring museums, taking walking tours, fishing, and playing on the beach. They won’t be able to fit in all the things on their list before we head back home to Riveredge again.
Riveredge, Michigan is a great place to collect cost saving ideas. My Cost Conscience segments will reflect the reality that so many people are facing as they try to make it in an expensive world with less money than they used to have. Armand supported the idea wholeheartedly, though I’m sure he’s glad I’ll do the segments instead of him. He’s ready to live large, and I’m not going to try to make him feel guilty about it. He has already experienced enough guilt for one lifetime.
Armand also dubbed me the show’s Mother Superior. He has a penchant for religious naming conventions, but I’m picking my battles and letting my silly titles slide for now. I’m glad I’ll be able to do occasional kid-oriented cooking, crafting, and decorating reports from Michigan. I’ve got plenty of room since we bought the old house back from Gwendolyn. Blake lives there now but leaves me space to work. He has been helping with the kids so that I have time to do all the legwork, promotion, and taping required for my small role on Armand’s show.
Blake
has continued to insist that he never had an affair with Francine. I told him about Kyle and I guess we’re forgiving each other a little at a time. I don’t know what’s going to happen. The biggest thing I’ve learned over the course of this year is that life is one big surprise after another, and maybe I should loosen up and try my best to roll with it.
Armand struggled to find the right name for his show. He was cleared to use So Perfect if he wanted. The name recognition was certainly there, but he said it just didn’t feel right to him anymore. He knew what he didn’t want, but of all the new names he tried on, none seemed to fit.
I accidentally stumbled upon one. We’d been brainstorming segment ideas when I suggested doing one on foreclosed houses, explaining the potential money saving benefits along with the dangers. I said, “You have to understand what you’re getting, because you’re buying as is.”
He put up his hand to stop me and tried out the words: AS IS.
He said they called to him. He thought they could go right up on a banner and become a motto for acceptance. Not an excuse to settle necessarily, but a reminder that at a certain point, you just need to say, OK, enough is enough! I’m sick of chasing the dream of perfection and that’s not a failure. Whether that means finally learning to smile at yourself in the mirror, living happily with your old car for a few more years, or in Armand’s case, “holding your head high when your mama says you needn’t ever call her again.”
AS IS made sense to me, too. It might be like a pop song that everyone finds a different meaning inside, singing along as if it was written especially for you. Armand called Gwendolyn on speakerphone right away to run the idea by her and she loved it. She actually said, “It’s so perfect!”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Smith
It’s one of those Michigan days that make you breathe easy. The sun shines and the sky is a hopeful hue, full of promise. The few clouds that billow past aren’t there to block out the sun, but to provide a counterpoint to the brilliant blue.
As Is Page 20
