Page 68 of My Own Kind of Person

He extends an arm to the three chairs.

“I’ll be onstage.”

“I only have a certain number of potato chips.”

“What do you have, three chips? I’m sure you have enough chips.”

Tony’s mom calls through the wall, “We have popcorn and brownies and I’m making cupcakes!”

“How did she hear us?” I whisper.

His face darkens. “She is not of this world.”

Outside, an engine rumbles, clangs, and shuts off. A door creaks and slams.

“House opens in five!” Tony shouts.

Andi’s voice replies at regular volume, “I have a VIP pass.”

“You gave them a pass?”

“They’re joking.” I call to Andi, “Five minutes!” I look back at Tony. “How you doing?”

“Good. But I’d like to have a pep talk with my client.”

I sit on the edge of the stage. “Pep me. I’d love to be pepped.”

“You would?”

“I feel, at this moment, completely unconcerned about whether I’ll make people laugh.”

Excitement flashes across his face. He tries a few poses before putting his hands on his hips. “Do you know why my mom is making cupcakes? Because you’re here. Do you know why Mrs. Farmer will be at that show tomorrow? Because you’ll be there. People like you. And tomorrow night at Captain’s, Joe Johnson will become one of those people. Assuming he’s there. All you have to do is go up and be yourself.”

“And be funny.”

“Well. Obviously.”

“But what if being myself at that moment doesn’t mean being funny?”

He glares.

“I can hear you anyway so can I just come in?” Andi says.

“House open!” Tony shouts without breaking eye contact.

The sun beams around Andi as they enter the garage. Something looks different about their silhouette.

“Your hoodie,” I say.

They’re wearing a gray T-shirt inside out. I look away as though it would be rude to see their bare arms.

They pull a folding chair to a spot away from the others. “I threw it out.”

“Forever?” I’m sad it’s gone, like I would have framed it or put it in a box to find years from now.

“When is our final audience member arriving?” Tony asks.

“You invited Christy?” Andi asks.