I'm Glad My Mom Died(13)

“It has multiple different meanings. Sometimes it just means happy. It’s in Christmas songs, for crying out loud. ‘Don we now our gay apparel,’?” Mom sing-talks.

I know Mom partially sympathizes with me or she wouldn’t be overexplaining herself the way that she is.

“Do I have to say it?”

“Yes, Net, it’s one of your first speaking-role auditions. We’ve gotta go on all these so Barbara knows you’re not difficult. Plus, we need you to book something so she keeps sending you out.”

I thumb the pages in front of me.

“Look, we can get ice cream afterward if you do a good job, okay? We’ve got that coupon Sister Johnson gave out in primary class.”

“Okay.”



* * *



It’s the next day and I’m waiting to go in for my audition. The room is small. The walls are white and there’s nothing on them. Fellow auditioners and their mothers sit in foldout chairs or stand with their backs against the walls. All the girls are blond. All the moms are anxious.

A casting person comes out to get me. My mouth is dry the way it always is before auditions, and I have to pee even though I already peed four times. I think it’s the sugar-free Red Bulls Mom has me drink before comedy auditions because she says I just don’t have comedy energy otherwise.

“Jennette McCurdy,” the casting person calls out. I swallow.

“Here!” I say excitedly, the way Mom instructed me to.

“Come on back,” the casting person says with a gesture.

Mom swats my butt supportively.

“You’ve got this, Net. You’re better than all these other girls!”

I see one of my competitors look down, sad. Her mother comforts her. I follow the casting director into the casting room, where two men are sitting.

“Whenever you’re ready,” one of them says.

The casting director says her line, then I say my first of two.

“You’re old.”

The men burst into laughter. I must’ve done well. My mouth’s still dry. I’m nervous about saying the word. Here comes my next line, the line that the word is in.

“Gelman, you are so gay.”

More laughter. I’m done. I go out to meet Mom in the waiting room.

“So what’d they say?” Mom asks while we stand in line at Baskin-Robbins.

“They said I was funny.”

“That’s right, my baby’s funny. And serious, too, when she needs to be. She’s got it all. You want Nutty Coconut?”

“Um, no, I think I’ll do Cookies ’N Cream.”

Mom turns to me, alarmed.

“You don’t want Nutty Coconut?”

I’m frozen. I don’t know what to say. Mom seems upset that I haven’t chosen Nutty Coconut. I pause, waiting to see how she reacts before making my next move. There’s a beat where we’re both just standing at the ice cream counter looking at each other instead of at the ice cream. Then Mom’s posture softens and her eyes well with tears.

“Nutty Coconut’s been your favorite for eight months. You’re changing. Growing up.”

I take her hand in mine.

“Never mind. I want Nutty Coconut.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive.” I nod.

Mom orders a kids’ scoop for us to share and hands the coupon to the teenage employee with so much black makeup around her eyes that she looks like a raccoon. We sit at one of the little booths to enjoy the ice cream together. I’m secretly sick of the coconut flavor but I’m sure to make lots of mmms so Mom thinks I love it. A few bites in, Mom’s little gray pager starts buzzing. She got this pager for herself as a Christmas gift so she could know the second Barbara needed to get ahold of her. Like right now.

“It’s Barbara! I have a page from Barbara!”

Mom hops up and bounds over to the ice cream counter. I stop eating the ice cream since Mom’s not watching me.

“Do you have a phone back there?” Mom asks the employee.

“Yes, but it’s for employee use only,” Raccoon Eyes says in a monotone.

“My daughter is an actress and she might have just booked her first speaking role on a show called Mad TV. Have you heard of Mad TV? It’s supposedly very funny. The more underground SNL. Is there any way I can use your—”

“Sure, go ahead and use it,” the employee says, bored.

Mom reaches across the counter and starts dialing Barbara’s number, which she knows by heart. Mom glances over at me with her fingers crossed. I take a bite of the ice cream.

“Ahhhh!!” Mom screams. The employee plugs her ears. “Net, you booked it! You booked Mad TV!”

Mom hangs up with Barbara and rushes over to me. She pulls me into a tight squeeze. I love the smell of her warm skin mixed with her Wings perfume. I’m so happy she’s happy.

“This is fantastic, Net. Your first speaking role. This is big stuff. Big stuff.”

Mom kisses me on the forehead excitedly, then digs her spoon into the ice cream, finishing off the last of the Nutty Coconut. I’m glad I don’t have to.





11.


“YOU LOOK SO PRETTY,” I tell Mom.

She stands in front of the bathroom mirror doing her makeup while I brush her hair. She likes when I do this. She says it’s comforting. Soothing.