Save the Date(128)

“And if we could have quiet,” Jill said, eyes fixed on her tablet. “We’re being patched in live in five . . . four . . .”

I smoothed my hair down quickly, then the dog’s ears, and then Jill was pointing at us, and the red light on the center camera flashed on.

“Welcome to ‘The Family Behind Grant Central Station,’?” Jackson said smoothly, straight to camera, and I felt myself staring into the lens, not blinking, thinking of all the people on the other side of it staring back at me. The lines Kevin had read were now scrolling on a little screen next to the center camera. I noticed my mouth suddenly felt very dry. “I’m Jackson Goodman. I’m here in the Connecticut home of the cartoonist Eleanor Grant, where she and her family have lived for more than two decades. We’re here to talk about the wildly popular comic strip Grant Central Station, which came to an end this morning—and to meet the people behind your favorite cartoon family.”

He looked at my mother expectantly, and a moment later, she seemed to realize this. The screen was flashing the line my mother had practiced saying—Welcome to our home. We’re so happy to have you here. But from the way my mother was squinting, I realized, much too late, that she didn’t have her glasses on. “Welcome?” she said, leaning forward to look at the screen, sounding incredibly unsure. “It’s . . . happy you’re here. Eleanor.” She frowned for a moment, then shook her head, and I realized she must have just read her name on the prompter like it was part of what she was supposed to say. “I’m so sorry about that,” she said, and I noticed her cheeks were bright pink. “I’m Eleanor. You’re Jackson.”

I heard a muffled, kind of squeaking sound and looked down, thinking it was the dog, only to realize that it was Linnie, pressing her lips together very hard, and I recognized the unmistakable signs of my sister getting the giggles. Rodney had clearly noticed too, as his smile had gotten a little frozen and he was patting Linnie’s hand while shooting her looks that clearly said, Keep it together.

“Eleanor,” Jackson went on, smiling like nothing was amiss, “you’ve been drawing a version of your family for twenty-five years. What has been your favorite part of the journey?”

Linnie burst into laughter, then clamped her hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry,” she said, looking stricken, but not like she was going to stop herself from laughing. “So sorry.” She put on a very serious face, one that cracked immediately. “It’s just . . . ,” she said, then took a big breath, clearly trying to get herself under control. “You said journey.”

“I . . . did,” Jackson said, still smiling, glancing toward the teleprompter like it might help him.

“It’s just that we had a band last night,” my dad jumped in.

“So to speak,” J.J. said, shaking his head.

“And they were a Journey cover band,” my dad went on, which seemed to set Linnie off again. “You know, like the band? Journey?”

“Right,” Jackson said, his tone getting a little more steely, even though his expression remained as smiley as ever. I glanced away briefly to see it looked like Jill had dropped her tablet and had both hands in her hair, like she was contemplating tearing it out. “So. Eleanor. You famously based the characters in your comic on your real family. What are the biggest differences between you and the characters in the strip?”

We all turned to Danny, who was supposed to answer here with an anecdote about how Donny was a slob but he wasn’t. But Danny was looking down, his shoulders shaking, and I realized that Linnie had just passed on her giggles to him. “Hrm,” he said, like he was trying to clear his throat and pull himself together. “I’m different,” he said, clearly trying to get a grip, which was manifesting in Danny talking more slowly and about an octave lower than he normally did. It was like he was suddenly imitating Darth Vader, and I could feel laughter start to build somewhere in the back of my throat. “I mean . . .” He cleared his throat again, and I could see that he was fighting against cracking up. “Not—I’m not messy.”

“We’re all different,” Rodney jumped in, looking like he was one of the few people holding it together. I was glad he’d spoken up, but also concerned that the camera had now focused on him, and he was sitting next to Linnie, who currently had a throw pillow pressed against her face, her shoulders shaking.

“Yes,” Mike jumped in, and I could see that the corners of his mouth were twitching. “Like, in the strip, my name is Mark. But my name is actually Mike.” J.J. burst out laughing, then coughed several times to try to disguise it, which didn’t work, even a little bit.

“Moving on,” Jackson said, his smile faltering a little as he looked around at us, clearly wondering just where he’d ended up. “Grant Central Station did such a wonderful job of showing this family that everyone wanted to be a part of.”

“Not everyone,” I said, without even thinking about it. I was still on the verge of bursting out laughing on national television, but it was like we were all strapped into a roller coaster that was only going one way. It was like the punchy energy that was currently coming from every member of my family except Rodney was taking me there. I pointed to Mike. “Not him.”

“Right,” Mike said, raising an eyebrow at me. “Not so much with me. In fact, this weekend is the first time I’ve been home in over a year.”