One Man Show (19 page)

“Corneal abrasion,” Dr. Devon said.

I gave him a puzzled look/ It sounded serious.

“A minor scratch on her eyeball,” he explained. “The patch will do the trick.”

“Now all I need is a peg leg and a parrot,” Granny said.

“You do look like Pirate Pete from the Crustacean Crunch commercials. How the heck did it happen?”

“It was the darnedest thing,” she said. “We were at your school for the play, and your aunt Birdie gave me some tortilla chips
- what are they called? Corn Fritters or some such thing. Not Corn Fritters. Burritos? Lolitas?”

“Cornchitas?” I said.

“No, no, no. Those spicy triangles. Oh, you know what I’m talking about,” Granny said. “Cornchitas, that’s it!”

The doctor gave me a quick wink.

“Anyway, I took a bite and the tip of a chip broke off and flew right into my eye.”

“Oh, cripes!”

“Stung like the dickens,” she said. “They were the barbecue kind, so that made it even worse. No, not barbecue - cheddar cheese
and onion. No - jalapeño!”

As a kid with firsthand experience of spaghetti sauce up the nose, I could relate.

“Well, I’m glad you’re all right,” I said, giving her another hug.

“Look at the two of us,” Granny said. “The prince and the pirate. We might as well go trick-or-treating.”

With a “yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum,” we made our way to the orange vinyl chairs, where the rest of the family was sitting
and drinking tea. Dr. Devon explained the details of Granny’s injury to the family and told us how the eyeball was one of
the fastest-healing parts of the body. The Grubbs women were staring him down as if he’d stepped off the cover of
Dream Doctor
magazine.

“We appreciate everything you’ve done, Doctor,” Mom said, extending her hand.

“My pleasure,” Dr. Devon said, taking her hand in both of his.

I swear Mom was blushing. It made me squirm to see her acting like Darlene does around Jeremy.

The doctor gave Granny her instructions, making sure we all heard. “Leave the patch on for a full three days,” he said. “You
can take two acetaminophen every four hours if there’s any pain. If you sit tight, I can have the pharmacy send up your drops.”

“Thanks, Doc,” Granny said.

“And I’ll see you back here on Monday for a follow-up. All right, young lady?”

“It’s a date!”

“Nice meeting all of you,” Dr. Devon said, flashing his hundred-watt smile.

“He’s a real looker, that one,” Granny said, watching him walk away. “And no wedding ring. If only I were twenty years younger.”

“Twenty?” Aunt Olive said.

“If ifs and buts were candy and nuts we’d all have a wonderful Christmas,” Aunt Birdie said, ripping into a snack bag. “Here,
Ma, have some of these - they’re dee-lish.”

“Cornchitas?” Granny said. “I swear, Birdie, sometimes I think the elevator’s not reaching your top floor.”

“Dr. Julius Devon,” Aunt Olive sang his name. “It’s like music.”

“How long do you think that prescription’ll take?” I asked. “’Cause we should be heading back to the school.” It was as if
I were invisible.

“What a catch, Dorothy!” Gran said, nudging Mom. “I wonder
if he knows you’re available. Shoot, even with one eye I saw sparks between the two of you.”

“Oh, please,” Mom muttered.

“Did you notice his eyes?” Aunt Birdie said. “A perfect shade of sea-foam blue.”

“Sea foam is green,” I said. “And we really should go.”

“I’m telling you, Dorothy, you have to strike while the iron’s hot,” Granny said. “You’re not getting any younger, you know.”

“Okay, that’s it,” Mom said, getting up. “I’m going to wait in the car.”

“That’s a start!” I said.

“I don’t understand you sometimes,” Granny said, pulling her back. “A handsome doctor’s not good enough? After my good-for-nothing
son runs off and deserts you, you lock yourself in the house for three years. Then all of a sudden you’re gaga over that rumpled
doughnut salesman. That Larry, or Gary, or -”

“Barry?” Mom said.

“No, that’s not it,” Granny said.

Mr. Ortega’s head popped up from the water fountain.

“Barry, what are you doing here?” Mom said, falling back into her chair.

“Oh! Hello, Dot - Dorothy,” Mr. Ortega said, all wide eyed. “Uh, I drove Dustin. Didn’t he tell you?”

“No.”

“It slipped my mind,” I said.

“I was going to the school play and Regina said your son needed a ride, so -”

“Regina?” Mom interrupted.

Mr. Ortega just stood there, stone-faced and silent, like Felix Plunket when he’d freaked out onstage. Then he suddenly crouched
down next to Granny and shouted, “Are you all right, Mother Grubbs?” as if she were deaf.

“Keep your voice down - you’re in a hospital,” Granny said, hoisting herself out of her seat. “I think I forgot my pocketbook
in Dr. Divine’s office.”

“Your purse is right there,” Mom said, pointing to it. “And it’s Devon.”

“Then I forgot to ask him something,” Granny said, shooting Mom an annoyed look. “I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll phone Regina and tell her everything is fine and dandy, and that Dustin’s on his way,” Mr. Ortega said nervously. He
wandered over to a vending machine, dropped some coins in, and wrestled out a candy bar. “Okeydokey, then. I guess I’ll see
you folks at the play.”

Everyone muttered an anemic good-bye. Mr. O. left, and my aunts went to “powder their noses” in the ladies’ room.

“Who’s this Regina?” Mom asked after we were alone.

“Miss Van Rye, the kindergarten teacher,” I said. “She helped with the play.”

“Well, that explains a lot.”

“So where’s Turdface?” I asked, changing the subject.

“Your brother doesn’t even know we’re here,” Mom said. “He’s meeting us at the play with his new girlfriend.”

“Oh, no! And you’re letting him? This one could be, like, a vampire or a stripper or something.”

Mom gave me her oh-you’re-overreacting-again look and took a sip of tea.

“He really seems to like this girl,” she said, smiling. “And no tattoos!”

“You know who else might be meeting us at the play?” I blurted out.

She’d find out soon enough if he showed up; I figured I’d give her fair warning. And if
she
overreacted - well, the emergency room was just steps away.

“Who?”

I couldn’t say it. Then I thought about how she didn’t even flinch when Gordy told her I wanted to be an actor. This was a
lot different, though, and I knew it. I took a deep breath and said it on the exhale.

“Dad.”

Mom’s face went whiter than a hospital sheet.

“What?” she said, knocking over her tea. “But when did you - how did you -”

“I left him a message at a club he’s working at in Chicago - I kinda tracked him down. Said I was doing a play and that
maybe he’d want to come see it. Then he sent me a telegram at school, saying he was coming. Did you know that telegrams still
exist?”

Mom didn’t speak. She grabbed a bunch of napkins that were on the table, wadded them up, and started stabbing at the spill.

“Who put you up to this?” she finally said, still stabbing. “One of your aunts?”

“No, it was my idea. I never thought in a million years he’d say yes.”

“Oh, Dustin….” She looked at me as if I’d just murdered someone, as if I were standing over the body, dripping in blood. “And
you waited until the last minute to spring this on me? What’s your grandmother going to do when she sees him?” She sat quietly
for a minute, just staring at the soaked napkins on the table. “I - I just don’t think I can face that man again. What would
I say?”

“Hello?”

“This isn’t a joke, Dustin,” Mom said sharply. Her face was clenched as tight as a fist. “How could you do such a thing?”

“Well, he
is
my father!”

She grabbed her jacket and purse and rushed into the hall, almost slamming into Aunt Olive, who was walking out of the ladies’
room.

“Mom!” I called after her. A burly nurse shushed me. “Mom, wait!”

I instantly regretted telling her. Regretted everything.

“Where’s she running off to?” Aunt Olive asked. “Did you tell her about -?”

Aunt Olive was the only person I’d talked to about Dad coming - well, until now.

“I had to,” I mumbled. I should’ve been dehydrated from before, but I could taste the salty tears running over my lips. “I
hope she doesn’t take a bus home or something.”

Aunt Birdie flew out of the ladies’ room and migrated from side table to side table, hand-sweeping crumbs and picking up empty
wrappers and cups.

“I thought Granny wasn’t coming to the play,” I whispered to Aunt Olive. “What’s gonna happen if Dad shows up?”

“Well, I tried to get her to stay home,” she said, rubbing my shoulder, “but you know your gran - she insisted on coming.
Maybe now she -”

“What’s all this whispering about?” Aunt Birdie said, dumping the trash into the receptacle next to us. “And where did they
go for that prescription, Timbuktu? It’s ten to eight. We should skedaddle.”

My heart jumped. “We have to go!” I said, sniffling. “Now!”

“Here she comes,” Aunt Olive said as Granny came shuffling around the corner. “She won’t be up for your play after all this
hoopla. I’ll drop her off at home.”

“Don’t you dare,” Granny said, joining us. “And I can speak for myself, Olive, thank you very much.”

“You really should get some rest now,” Aunt Birdie said, taking Granny’s arm.

“I’ll get plenty of rest when I’m six feet under.”

“Oh, Ma, how you talk,” Aunt Olive said. “We’re only trying to -”

“Listen!” Granny growled in her drill-sergeant voice. “This child has his play to do. Can’t you see he’s on pins and needles?
Now, I’ve got the prescription in my pocketbook, so stop your jabbering and let’s vamoose!”

“He’s here!” Wally and Pepper both shouted when Aunt Olive’s station wagon dropped me off in front of the school. They were
in costume, jumping up and down in the entranceway. I had to climb over Mom, who hadn’t said a word to anyone for the entire
drive over and was still sizzling with anger -but at least she was there. The car sped off to find parking, and I sped up
the steps.

“Come on, hustle!” Pepper said, pulling me into the corridor. Shouts of “He’s here! He’s here!” echoed off the walls. I felt
important.

“We’re holding the curtain,” Wally said, “but the audience is getting antsy.”

“They passed antsy ten minutes ago,” Pepper said. “They’re about to start throwing rotten fruit.”

The three of us raced down the hall as if we were running
on hot coals. The muffled roar of the audience grew louder and louder the closer we got to the auditorium. My mind was a total
mishmash from the night so far - and the main-event stuff hadn’t even happened yet.

“I’m glad you’re back,” Wally said, “and that your grandma’s okay. Miss Van Rye gave us the scoop.”

“Here!” Pepper flung a garment bag at my head. “Get dressed, quick!”

“I
am
dressed.”

“As the Prince,” she said. “But you’re back to playing the Jester again, ‘cause Jeremy flew the coop!”

“No way!”

“Way!” Pepper said. “He cut out after Futterman said he would press charges.”

“Yeah, but first he made Jeremy scoop the stolen box-office money out of the toilet,” Wally said. “On national television!
How cool is that?”

“I knew it was in the bowl!” I said.

“Futterman said celebrity or not, a thief is a thief,” Pepper said, “and that there would be swift… revolution, or something.”

“Persecution?” Wally said.

“No.”

“Retribution?” I said.

“That’s it!” Pepper said. “At least the idiot left his costume behind.”

“Wait,” I said. “If I’m playing the Jester, who’s gonna be the Prince?”

“Felix,” Wally said.

“Cynthia’s helping him go over his lines in the kindergarten room right now,” Pepper said. “Take off your costume and I’ll
bring it to him. It’ll save time.”

“But -”

“Take it off!” she insisted. “This is no time to be shy.”

I undid my tie belt and handed it to Wally, then pulled off the gold tunic and tossed it to Pepper. There I was, running around
half-naked in public again.
I really should start working out.

Pepper hiked up her dress and zoomed down the hall, shouting, “See ya in Gálico!”

“Felix Plunket?” I said to Wally. “How did they get ahold of him?”

“Futterman spotted him in the audience,” he said. “I didn’t think Felix would go for it, but he jumped at the chance. Said
something about wanting a do-over.”

The Walrus helped me on with Jeremy’s Jester costume, the rental from Hollywood Costume Cavalcade. It was a zillion times
better than my original, with red, green, and yellow satiny pieces all sewn together in a diamond pattern - and a huge zigzag
collar with tiny bells attached to the tips.

I popped my head through the neck hole and saw Miss
Van Rye barreling toward us in her blinding sequins, her pearls rattling. Little reflections of light bounced off her and
filled the hallway.

“Oh, thank goodness you’re here!” Miss Van Rye said, suffocating me in a bear hug. “Switching back to Jingle Jangles shouldn’t
be a problem for you, trouper that you are. Felix may need some help, though. I’m counting on you to get him through this.”

Okay, no pressure.

The backstage doors sprang open and Futterman’s bald head poked through.

“You’re here!” he said. “It’s about time. Let’s go!” The doors closed, then opened again, like a cuckoo clock. “Don’t mess
up this time!”

Pepper was leading the rest of the cast down the hall in a mad dash to the auditorium. It sounded like a stampede of water
buffalo.

“Shhh, quiet as church mice,” Miss Van Rye said in a hushed voice. She held the backstage door open and herded us onto the
stage. “Break legs, munchkins. And just remember to have fun.”

“Places, people!”
Futterman yelled from the darkness.

It was lucky that the jester’s hat Miss Honeywell had made for me was sitting on the prop table, ‘cause Jeremy’s came down
over my eyes. Big head - go figure. Wally handed me
my tie belt, and I quickly wrapped it around my waist, knotting it on the side. Now the costume felt complete.