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After that was the article I’d been expecting to see on page one. Lorenzo said, “Wow, look at you.” For some reason, the magazine had gone with a big, full-length photo of me, which filled a third of one of the pages. The other actors’ pictures were much smaller, which had given my mother an additional reason to brag.
As Lorenzo read the article, I turned to my mom and said, “Well, the good news is, you’ll finally have some more stuff for your album. I’m saving you everything I can get my hands on from the set, including the sign with my name on it from my trailer, if you want it. If I collect enough memorabilia, maybe the album won’t be so empty anymore.”
Lorie said, “Um, Will? This album isn’t empty at all. In fact, it’s almost full.”
My breath caught as he began to turn the pages. After the article was a six-page layout of the action movie I’d done, even though I only had a couple of lines before dying. There was a copy of the movie poster and everything I’d sent her from the set, including behind-the-scenes photos and the script page with my lines on it. There were also six ticket stubs from when she and my dad had gone to see it in the local theater—three times—and blurry photos of me playing the part. I realized she must have gotten them by taking pictures of the TV after she bought the movie on DVD.
It didn’t stop there, either. Page after page had been made with love, using patterned papers and stickers and cute captions, and they included every single thing I’d done as an actor. For each of my commercials, my mom had either taken photos of the TV or found pictures somewhere online and produced two-page layouts. Whenever possible, she’d even included something from the product I was advertising, like the front of a box of crackers.
The album went on and on. Every head shot and resume I’d ever sent her was included. The playbill and a bunch of ephemera from the crappy local theater production I’d done took up six pages. She’d even included postcards and letters I’d sent her, where I talked about taking classes and going on auditions.
When we finally reached the last page, my mom said, “Now, don’t you worry. That cover I made can expand, and I got a special kit to add twenty more pages to this scrapbook. I know we’ll still end up overflowing it, and that’s fine too, because I’ve already started working on the cover for volume two.” She paused for a moment, and then she asked, “Willie honey, are you crying?”
“No.”
“Yeah, you are,” she insisted. “What’s wrong?”
“I just always thought this album was empty,” I said, as I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. “I imagined it sitting here all these years with blank pages, and I felt so awful for letting you down.”
“Lettin’ us down? Why, you’ve never made us anything but proud, son,” Dad said.
“We would’ve been proud even if you’d never gotten a single part,” my mom told me. “Don’t you know that, Willie-bug? Now, I certainly enjoy the fact that you’re a huge success, because I know how hard you worked for it. But I’d be braggin’ about you no matter what you did. That’s just what you do when you’re the parent of an awesome kid like you.”
“Come on now, no more tears,” my dad said, as he threw his arms around me. “What we need is a group hug.” My mom tried to stretch her arms around all of us, and Dad exclaimed, “Get on in here, Lorenzo! You’re a member of this family too, so don’t think you get to sit this one out.” I was worried about how my boyfriend might react to finding himself in a Smith sandwich, but he just chuckled and went with it.
Chapter 17
It was always hard to say goodbye to my mom and dad after a visit. There were tears, lots of hugs, and promises to come back as soon as possible. The dogs even started howling when they saw how emotional we all were. I loved the fact that Lorenzo and I both got the same treatment from my parents, before we drove off and left them waving to us from the middle of the road.
I was quiet and introspective as I stared out the window of the half-empty 747 on our flight to Los Angeles. We were somewhere over Texas when Lorenzo murmured, “Those two weeks really flew by, didn’t they?”
“It always goes by way too fast, no matter how long I’m there.”
“Have you ever tried to get your parents to move closer?”
“Many times,” I said. “Maybe someday, I’ll convince them. But for now, their life is in Louisiana, and mine is in California.”
