“My protective side kicked in and I needed to do something, even though you clearly had it under control. I was impressed by how calm and cool you were.”
“That prick’s been bullying me since I was five years old. I wanted to show him he doesn’t have the power to hurt me anymore.”
“Why didn’t you tell him you’re just here temporarily, because you’re starring in a huge movie? I would have thought it’d be fun to rub his nose in it.”
“Well, for one thing, I wanted to make it clear there’s no shame in working in a shop,” I said. “But also, there’s no need to brag about the film. Every single person in this town will find out about it soon enough.”
“It’s a slow payoff for you though, since the movie won’t be out for a year.”
“Oh, they’ll find out a lot sooner than that. As soon as that interview comes out, my mom will make absolutely certain everyone in town sees it. When I was featured in that ‘hot young actors’ article several years ago, she carried it in her purse for months and stuck it in the face of every single person in town. She was so proud.”
Lorenzo smiled at me and said, “Success really is the best revenge.”
“True.”
“That reminds me, I really want to see the scrapbook your mom made for you.”
“The one that’s all blank except for the first page? Sure, I’ll find it after dinner.”
As he started to tidy up a display of fishing line, he said, “I meant to ask sooner, but do you have any other relatives in town? If so, I’d love to meet them.”
“No. My grandparents passed when I was little, and both my parents are only children. I do have a great aunt somewhere in Mississippi, but she was horrible to me when I came out, so my mom stopped talking to her.”
“It’s hard to imagine growing up without a bunch of aunts, uncles, and cousins,” he said.
“I have no idea what that’s like. All I ever knew was my little family of three.”
My parents returned with pizzas and drinks just then, and we locked up the shop and joined them out on the back porch. While the dogs begged and whined through the screen door, Lorenzo told my parents about Jimmy’s visit and said, “Mrs. Smith, you need to make sure he hears all about the movie and that upcoming interview.”
“Well now first of all, you know I told you to call me DeeDee,” she said, as she twisted the lid off a two-liter grape soda and poured us all a glass. “And you’d better believe I’ll be showing that article to Jimmy freakin’ Watts and his stuck-up mama, too. In fact, I’m thinkin’ about blowin’ it up real big and makin’ a billboard out of it.”
I chuckled and said, “You don’t have to go quite that far, Ma. I’m just happy you’ll finally have something else for your scrapbook. Speaking of which, Lorie wants to see it after dinner, if that’s okay.”
She exclaimed, “Of course it’s okay! You never want to look at it, Willie, so it’s about time I get to show it off.”
Cleanup was minimal since we ate on paper plates, but Lorie and I still took care of it. Then my mother said, “Everybody, be sure to wash your hands, and use soap! I’m gonna be spittin’ mad if anybody gets pizza grease on our family heirloom.”
As I washed my hands at the kitchen sink, I said, “You’re not really calling an empty album our family heirloom, are you?” But my mother didn’t hear me, because she’d already bustled down the hall to her bedroom.
When she returned, she said, “Bubba, make sure the table’s cleaned off. I worked hard on this cover and I don’t want it gettin’ messed up because somebody forgot to wipe down the crumbs from lunch.” The kitchen table had a red-and-white checked vinyl tablecloth, and my dad gave it an extra wipe with a paper towel, even though he swore it was clean.
Then my father and I sat down on either side of Lorenzo as Mama placed a huge, thick object in front of him. At some point, she’d quilted a cover for it with blue and gold ruffles and a gold fabric star with my name embroidered on it. “It’s so pretty,” I said, as I ran my hand over the cover. “When’d you do this, Ma?”
She was hovering right behind us, and she said, “About five or six years ago, I think. Go on, Lorenzo, look inside.” He carefully turned back the cover.
I’d been wrong about what was on the first page. She’d made a collage of my senior picture, the playbill from the only school play I ever did, and the pair of hand-drawn and photocopied tickets she and my dad had gotten to see the show. The next page was my very first head shot, and I grinned and said, “I looked like I was twelve years old.”