Funny Feelings (18)

“I’m her manager, actually,” I say. “Your daughter here is extremely bright and extremely talented. I’ve been trying to get her on as a client for quite some time. She’s going to do big things.”

I catch Farley’s tear-filled eyes, and the gratitude behind them solidifies it. Fuck it, I’ll be a manager. I’ll call in every single one of my favors around here and get her name out there, if only to prove this motherfucker wrong. The rising shock and rage on his face is already worth it.

But that also solidifies another thing. I won’t—can’t—abuse that position by getting romantically involved. If I manage her and date her, no one will take us seriously when I promote her.

Just like that, the hopeful feeling dies.

A different kind of determination takes its place.

Fee turns toward the car before saying over her shoulder, “Bye, Dad. Merry Christmas.”





Later, back at the condo, she pours herself another glass of wine as she stuffs candy into Hazel’s stocking.

“Meyer. I’ve never…” she blows out a breath, “thank you, for what you did back there for me.”

“You’re welcome, Jones.”

“What did you… what did you want to talk to me about?” her knee bounces anxiously.

“Oh… uh—just that. I was going to ask you if you’d want me to manage you.”

“You were?”

I shrug. “Yeah.”

“Thank you. I can’t believe it. But thank you.”

Determined to undo whatever damage was done earlier, I tell her, “We’ll work out the details later, but I mean it when I tell you that you can make it, Jones. You do this shit for the right reasons. I can tell.”

“What are the right reasons?”

“Making people forget that they’re sad. Bringing people together by making them laugh. It’s actually fucking beautiful, what you do. What the best comedians do, really…

“Some people make jokes, and, even when it’s about political stuff, since it’s in the form of a joke, people actually listen to it. Even if they don’t typically want to hear another side, when it’s disguised as a joke, it clicks in your brain even if you don’t want it to. You make people see that other angle in life. In uncomfortable situations, you make them want to look for something funny about it. You sneak it in on them in your way.”

She starts to cry, so I apply that logic and slide her wine glass away from her.

It works, and she laughs. “Stop,” she whispers, swiping at a tear and lightly punching my shoulder. And the whiplash I gave myself earlier in realizing my feelings—and then promptly tucking them away—makes it too hard to hug her right now, so I just rub circles on her back.

“I’ve never really told you… why I stopped. Why I stopped stand-up for a long time…” I say.

She looks up at me, her eyes now a fiery gold from the tears.

“Hazel’s mom and I… we weren’t… we weren’t together or anything, which was fine with both parties. It had been a one-night stand. But she was a little bit older, so when she found out she was pregnant, I guess she debated even telling me at first, worried I’d have wanted her to have an abortion. I was twenty-five and peaking in stand-up at the time and if I’m being honest with you, Jones, I probably would have. I would have respected whatever her decision was, of course, but I think if she’d come to me right away, I’d have said something extremely fucking stupid, so I’m really glad she didn’t.

“As it was, by the time she told me, it was too late. Also, by that time, I’d already known people in this industry who’d OD’d or developed some kind of addiction. If you don’t stay grounded, you get so addicted to that adrenaline—to having that feeling that you get up there—that a lot of us chase it when we’re not. So, when I found out about Hazel, I knew it was my sign to stay tethered… that I had some real shit to live for off stage, too.

“But then… It was a freak thing. After Hazel was born, her mom, Hallie, had what’s called an Amniotic Fluid Embolism. It’s extremely rare, but within twenty-four hours she was gone.” I rush through the rest before I can second guess myself.

“I felt like— like I couldn’t find a single fucking bright spot in that situation, obviously. That this person, who wanted nothing from me, but was so excited to be a mom… she brought this perfect, beautiful thing into the world, and she didn’t even get to enjoy her. Doing it killed her. And I— I know it’s not logical, Fee, but I felt like I killed her.” I swallow.

“Meyer—“

“No, let me finish, please. Because you need to know why what you do matters. Because it really does.

“I swear, I thought I would never laugh again after that. I thought I didn’t deserve to. And I was drowning, clueless when it came to a baby. My mom came out from Ohio and helped me when she could, but the thoughts that I had, Fee… God.” I feel like I could choke on the shame now, thinking back on it.

“It had been a rough night—day, I don’t know. At the time, they were all blurring together. But then I turned on some stand-up. And I laughed. And obviously, now I know she couldn’t hear me, but my laughing face made her smile for the first time.