"And always look on the bright side of life. Always look on the right side of life."
The tune wove in and out of Sam's ears. It was really quite catchy. Back at his old school in Tennessee, they'd taken the freshman class to see Spamalot! when the tour had stopped in Nashville. Taking a bunch of teenage boys to see the Monty Python musical had probably been a mistake: for nearly a month afterwards, classes were frequently interrupted by loving, off-key, and mostly off-color reenactments.
"For life is quite absurd, and death's the final word…"
Sam slowly began to realize that the song was not the tail end of a dream, but was in fact being played—sung live, rather—directly outside his motel room door. It took him a few more unpleasant moments to adjust to the reality of being woken up so early on a Saturday morning. He checked to see if his little brother and sister were still asleep; they were. So was his mom, as far as he could tell. His dad, however, wasn't too happy.
"Sam. Those glee kids are very sweet, but please go shut him up."
"Always look on the bright side of death, just before you draw your terminal breath…"
Actually, it didn't sound like anyone in glee club. Maybe it was that weird guy three rooms down that always tried to get Sam to sing opera with him. It had been unseasonably chilly lately, so Sam quickly shrugged on his letterman jacket and tiptoed outside.
"Life's a piece of—Sam!"
"Jesse?"
Considering he hadn't seen the curly-haired "show choir consultant" since Nationals (where he hadn't done anything to get into anybody's good graces), and hadn't really even spoken to him since prom, Sam was more than a little surprised to find Jesse standing outside his motel room attired in a blue windbreaker and scarf and brandishing one of Rachel's Bedazzled microphones. A similarly Bedazzled boombox sat at his feet, still playing the accompaniment to "Always Look on the Bright Side of Life."
Hmm, Sam had accepted Jesse's friend request last week on Facebook (even homeless people had Facebook!), but did that simple, mindless gesture really warrant such a serenade?
"Hello, Sam! So glad you could join me this morning. I take it the rest of your family will be out shortly?"
"Um, no, they're sleeping. As was I. What are you doing here?"
"Well," Jesse beamed. "Back in high school, I used to do community service several hours a month in order to improve my college application, before I realized that my raw talent was sufficient to earn me a full ride to my top choice. I especially enjoyed holding impromptu concerts for the homeless. It was the perfect way to share my talent with the disadvantaged—that is, those who had been disadvantaged by not hearing me sing.
"Your family's story touched me, especially since I spent a few weeks walking in your shoes after being forced to depart from my well-appointed dormitory room in Los Angeles." Jesse glanced down at Sam's ratty house shoes. "Actually, I wear very masculine designer boots rather unlike your choice of footwear, but you know what I mean. Anyway, I've decided to make your non-house residence the first stop on my summer tour."
Sam gaped.
Jesse knelt down to retrieve a binder at his feet.
"Here, Rachel's even printed programs."
So she had, with a giant gold star at the top and everything. Sam tried to focus on the words as Jesse went on.
"With Rachel's help I've constructed an ideal setlist full of crowd-pleasers as far as your family is concerned. I have Bruce Springsteen, Fleetwood Mac, The Wiggles since Rachel tells me you have younger siblings, Queen—they're my personal favorite!"
"Look, Jesse, this is all very, um, nice, but it's really early, and everyone's still trying to sleep. Can't we just do this later?"
Jesse thought it over.
"I need a captive audience. Do you think Mercedes is awake yet?"
"How do you know about—I mean, uh, why Mercedes in particular?"
"Oh, please, you two were glaringly obvious at prom. Just, if you go together next year? Have Kurt dress you. We don't need any more bolo ties."
Sam thought better of commenting on the scarf Jesse had chosen to pair with his windbreaker.
"I guess we can reschedule, if you really don't mind losing the chance to be among the first to see me perform this summer. How can I best reach you?"
Sam rarely appreciated his cell phone situation, that situation being that he had no cell phone, other than a pre-paid.
"Sorry man, we don't have any phones we can use for non-emergency situations, and I can't really get on Facebook all that often."
"Oh, that's perfectly understandable. I'll call Mercedes instead, shall I?"
At such an early stage in the relationship, Sam didn't think he was expected to take a bullet of this caliber for Mercedes. Hopefully she'd understand. At any rate, Jesse had already begun wandering towards his Camaro, chattering happily to himself.
"I could expand my tour to the overworked, underappreciated Lima dental community. I'm sure Mercedes' father would enjoy my rendition of 'Dentist!'"
If Mr. Jones was anything like his daughter, he'd probably just charge out and assault Jesse with dental tools instead.
Sam waited until Jesse was safely out of the parking lot before daring to reenter the motel room. His father had rejoined the rest of the family in sleep, but Sam felt like he was up for the day. He glanced at the clock—it was just past seven. At least his siblings and mother had managed to sleep through the ordeal.
As inane as Jesse was, he had a point. Sam felt that "always look on the bright side of life" was a good motto to have going forward. Sam had his families, both biological and glee. He had Mercedes (if not a Mercedes). He had the experience of traveling to New York City and performing for an audience of hundreds on the national stage. He even had his guitar back!
Yup, Sam thought to himself. It could be worse. Really, the only thing that could bring him down right now was if his family decided to up and move to like, Kentucky or somewhere. But that would never happen.
Lips pursed in a silent whistle, Sam set off to find something to do for the day.