Lucky Caller(28)

“I want to have Christmas with Mom,” Sidney said flatly.

“Well, it’s something we’re working out now. We can definitely—”

“Mom knows?” Rose said.

“Of course she knows.”

“Why didn’t she tell us?”

“I wanted to be the one to tell you. I wanted you to hear it from me.” He looked at the three of us. “This isn’t going to change anything,” he said.

Which was an absurd thing to say. That’s what I remember thinking most clearly. That it was a complete and total lie—it was so obviously going to change everything. I think I understand a bit better now what he might have meant—that it wouldn’t change how he felt about us. It wouldn’t change the fact that he loved us and cared about us—things he should’ve said but didn’t.

No one finished their ice cream that day. We pitched soggy, half-eaten waffle bowls with pools of melted ice cream in them. We rode home in silence.

Sidney took it hardest, I think. She sank into a terrible mood that lingered over the next few weeks. Finally, in a desperate attempt to cheer her up—after Sidney refused movies and games and dolls, even an offer to dive into Rose’s makeup bag—Rose asked, “What do you want to do? Anything. Just … What’ll make you feel happy right now? Tell us and we’ll do it. Whatever it is.”

Sidney had lifted her head, looked Rose right in the eye.

“I want to play Kingdom,” she replied.





24.


JOYDEEP AMENDED HIS ORIGINAL REQUEST a couple hours after we chatted: They have to be facts that are INTERESTING, but vague enough that people can’t just google and find him right from it.

We need to CULTIVATE the MYSTERY

Okay I will KEEP THAT in MIND JoyDEEP, I replied.

I ended up sending him a generic list. It was pretty bare bones. Joydeep didn’t even look at it until the next time he got on-air—I could tell by the color commentary.

“So. There is something cool that we’re going to do, that I am going to tell you about,” he said. “On Sounds of the Nineties.” Joydeep gave me a meaningful look, like he wanted credit for correctly ID’ing the program. “We’re going to have a very special interview with a very special mystery guest in April. So. Because of that, we’ve got three facts here for you today, about him—or her. Them. The mystery guest.” He cleared his throat and looked down at his phone, where he had my list pulled up. “Fact number one … Our mystery guest has lived in the state of Indiana. Hm. How about that. Fact number two … Our mystery guest has a connection to the restaurant chain TGI Fridays. Huh. Cool. Fact number three … Our mystery guest’s favorite color … is yellow.” He cast me a truly exasperated look. “Cool stuff. Really intriguing. Here’s a song by a person.”

I scrambled to switch on the music.

“What?”

“His favorite color is yellow? That’s the best you could do? That’s a fun fact to you?”

“I don’t know! You said to keep them vague.”

“Not so vague that they could apply to any person who’s lived here, eats cheesy potato skins, and likes yellow! That could be any of us!”

“Hey, if you care so much, you compile a list. Why do I have to be the one to do extra work?”

“It’s your dad! If anyone knows him, it should be you! But fine, if you’re gonna give me his favorite color is yellow, I’ll make a list myself.”

It was quiet after that while Joydeep rage-googled. I guess Sasha must have been looking too because her head snapped up a little while later.

“Your dad interviewed This Is Our Now?” she asked.

They were the boy band of the moment. Or of the last few moments, probably. “Yeah, before one of their concerts a couple years ago. They weren’t as big then.”

She grinned. “What’d he say about them? Did he have a favorite member?”

“Um … I can ask?”

“Do it.”

I texted him. Later that night he’d answer, The one with the shaggy hair was the friendliest, and we would identify him as Josh.

“Put it on the list,” Joydeep said. “That’s a fun fucking fact right there.”

It was quiet in the studio for a bit after that, Sounds of the Nineties playing low, until Sasha suddenly burst out: “We got a notification!”

“Hm?” Jamie looked up.

“Online! Our account! Someone said something about us.” A pause as she clicked. “bbright720 says, Bless @soundsofthe90s for playing TB back to back. No one else out there giving him the respect he deserves on air.”

“TB?”

Joydeep glanced at the monitor in front of him, scrolled through the playlist. “There’s no TB.”

“Are any two songs back-to-back by the same artist?” I said.

“Not on purpose,” Jamie murmured.

“Ah.” Joydeep made a face. “I copied one when I was messing around with the list earlier. Sorry.”

“Who is it?” Jamie asked.

“Existential Dead,” Joydeep read. “‘Love Is a Blackened Lung,’ 1994.”

Sasha raised an eyebrow. “That weird grunge thing?”