36: Hello Sunshine
Jane swept an overzealous frond behind her head as the floor director counted down from five. She was sitting on a teal loveseat with her wife beside her and a jungle of plastic tropical plants all around. On the other side of the coffee table with its oversized mugs were Edie and Gerald, eerily motionless with their huge smiles pointed at the camera that was about to start rolling.
The first thing Jane had noticed about Edie was the way she seemed to live in a perpetual whirlwind of her own making. When they met earlier that bright summer morning, she had a staple caught in her frizzy red hair and a sticky note bearing the cryptic message "Turtles?" stuck to her sleeve. As for Gerald, their pre-interview screenings of Hello Sunshine had revealed his main job was to wink at the audience.
Now the floor manager had counted down to one and was pointing at the camera. Edie, who was framed by a sea of yellow hibiscus flowers and one obnoxiously pink anthurium, launched into her opening spiel. "Thanks for joining us on"—and here the crowd joined in—"HELLO SUNSHINE! Our guests today are Jane Lane and Daria Morgendorffer, co-founders of local satirical website The Poison Parfait." Anemic applause trickled into the silence, punctuated by a shockingly loud two-finger whistle from Jake, who made up their one-man fan section. "Daria and Jane, why don't you tell us a little about your website?"
They had received the list of questions a few weeks ago and divvied them up, and Daria had gotten this one after losing the dice roll. She pushed her glasses up her nose (as charming a gesture as ever, Jane thought) and responded in her customary monotone. "Well, Edie, our site is basically an attempt to process the absurdity of the universe into something that will sound snappy on a keychain." The cavernous silence that followed seemed to prompt Daria to add, "Or to put it another way, Jane and I poke fun at society—she with brilliant art and I with inadequate words—to stave off the madness that stalks all thinking beings." This garnered a few awkward laughs and one outright guffaw.
Edie flashed a quick little smile and moved right along, as those who live on the edge of frenzy are wont to do. "Well, there must be quite a market for it, because you've been picking up advertisers as fast as Sal's Soup-er Sandwiches down the street."
Gerald looked into the camera and said, "You hear that, Sal?" He winked at the crowd and then went on, "Keep the free soup coming." The audience laughed much more loudly than was warranted, Jane thought.
Edie went on without missing a beat. "Your merchandise is really starting to take off. In the past week, I saw one of your t-shirts at the funeral parlor and that coffee shop where it's too dark to read."
Gerald leaned over and raised an eyebrow at the audience. "Edie, maybe you should mention your family owns a funeral parlor. Otherwise, it sounds a little strange."
Edie raised an index finger. "True. What I meant to say is that word of your site has gotten around. Tell me, what are you working on now?"
Jane shifted her oversized mug of tea in her hands and realized she'd been clinging to it like a life raft. The steadiness of her voice surprised her as she answered, "I've been working on my portrait series of serial killers as CEOs. Lately, I've been trying to figure out which industry would be the best fit for the Cookie Jar Cannibal."
Edie looked puzzled. "He . . . ate cookies? In addition to people?"
"No, he kept people parts in cookie jars back in the seventies."
Edie nodded. "That makes sense. How about you, Daria?"
"I just finished a story about Genghis Khan trying out speed dating. It features special guest stars."
Edie's eyes twinkled as she replied, "Well, now you've got me curious."
By this point, there were only about five minutes left before the local Animal Control unit was scheduled to come on and explain which animals were most likely to have rabies (with the aid of cute stuffed animals, so it didn't frighten the children). The rest of the interview went fairly smoothly, with the exception of Jane accidentally saying "vulva" instead of "value" and Gerald ad-libbing a question about what type of shoe their website would be.
Before they knew it, they were standing on the sun-washed sidewalk with Jake and clutching gift baskets filled with an odd assortment of local products—including, for some inexplicable reason, a plush badger advertising Botox services. Jake affectionately squeezed Daria's shoulder and exclaimed, " Wow, girls! I'm just so proud of you two." He gave a slightly nervous smile and delivered an awkward high-five to Jane. "Say, how about I take you out for ice cream to celebrate?"
An endearing quality of Jake's was that he sometimes forgot they weren't twelve years old. Daria looked to Jane for her small nod of agreement and then switched her gift basket to her other arm so she could grab her keys. "Sure, Dad, thanks. There's an ice cream shop with something called a Sasquatch Split by our place. You get a t-shirt if you eat it."
Jane added, "It has, like, five bananas."
Jake was nodding in a somewhat distracted manner. "That sounds good. How about I follow you?"
A short time later, they pulled into a small parking lot where the potholes had been patched and re-patched over the last twenty years. A few straggly trees reached valiantly for the sun at its edges. Freddy's Sundae Fundae was testament to the fact that you couldn't judge an ice cream treat by its thoroughly underwhelming surroundings.
They met Jake at the front door and he pulled it open, its little silver bell jingling. He ushered them through into the lively shop with its long counter, wide windows, and round tables featuring napkin holders in the shape of colorful sundaes. As they took their place in line, he said, "That Edie seems like a spitfire. And Gerald . . . is very tan."
Jane offered, "It's bronzer. A whole lot of it."
Jake nodded, then said, "And Jane, I don't think anyone noticed you said vulva," with the offending word uttered in a stage whisper so loud it could surely be heard by flight attendants on passing aircraft.
Jane felt her cheeks begin to warm and replied, "Well, that's good news." Daria chose this moment to take her hand.
When they had gotten their frozen treats—cones for Daria and Jane and a butterscotch sundae for Jake—and taken their seats, Daria's father lapsed into silence as he gazed down at his ice cream. After a few moments, Jane saw a tear land next to the old-fashioned glass dish. He took a ragged breath in and said, "Daria, your grandma Ruth died last night. I didn't want to ruin your big day with the news." His shoulders began to heave as a little sob escaped him.
Daria was already up and holding her cone out to Jane. "Hon, would you please . . . ?" Jane took the ice cream and Daria wrapped her arms around her dad's shoulders, embracing him and not letting go. Jane watched helplessly as Jake began to cry in earnest. She soon found a way to hold both cones in one hand so she could give Jake's arm a squeeze with the other.
When Jake was able to compose himself, he tried to dry his tears with the collar of his polo shirt. This was simply too much for Jane's heart, and she may have set a new speed record in finding the packet of tissues lost in her bottomless bag. He took one gratefully and wiped his eyes, then blew his nose in a fantastically loud manner. He said quietly, "Anyway. We're making the arrangements, and we'll let you know when the service will be."
Daria said with great tenderness, "I'm so sorry, Dad."
Jake nodded, picked up his spoon, and stared forlornly at his melting sundae.
