by
Libby Bideau
I didn’t want to meet the gang, to catch up at a local watering hole. The show we had all worked on together, ‘National Enquirer TV’ was over. I didn’t miss it. Amy, the receptionist had organized the event, a reunion at a Karaoke bar. Amy was like Mary Poppins. I appreciated her love of musical theater, her enthusiasm and her tendency to occasionally flip into a British accent for no reason.
I should show up just to say hi, possibly sing a number. I would go late… leave early. The reunion was to start around eight, so I hit the scene at 9:15 – The Tattle Tale. It was one of those joints lost in time where pool, darts, neon signs of various beer brands and smoking were still celebrated.
I saw Amy immediately, dressed in a 70’s wrap dress, retro updo and wine lipstick. Alan and Eddie, the Associate Producers who loved to download porn from the internet and laugh at hip guy-humor were in attendance. Even Leslie, from Research, was belly-up to the bar with a new mystery beau. Everything about Leslie was abtruse. I wondered if she still had that tongue piercing. They were all talking about how to get more work in reality television, something I had been successfully avoiding for two years. Recently my days had been full of yoga, writing, teaching pilates in my pajamas and free afternoons. It was all I could do to put on real-people clothes. That night I even brushed my hair and sported jewelry. I chose a sparkly new bracelet I had just gotten for my birthday. It glittered like stars in a row. My mind wandered – I glanced towards the door.
That’s when I saw her. She was short, stooped over, sort of leaning into a future. She shuffled into the Tattle Tale and slid into a booth with a cast of characters who came in with one thing on their mind – Karaoke. Her black fur earmuffs caught your attention, but her floral muumuu and sturdy mucklucks held it. Her large rectangular prescription coke bottles weren’t flattering – really nothing about her was - but she was there and she was not apologizing for it. I noticed how precisely she placed her worn cigarette case next to the plastic picnic-type ashtray on the table. Eddie, the Associate Producer who was really a rock star, leafed through the song menu. His wife, Diane, hovered nearby. Her smile told all she was in love. They kissed; the kind that just happens. The bartender, in a worn Hawaiian shirt with a missing tooth, made a rum and coke and slid it down the bar to a regular named Bev.
I glanced towards the video monitor near the pool tables. The “master of Karaoke” dressed in striped sweater and baseball hat called for Irv. I was relieved... if the patrons sang more, he would sing less. Irv sat with “Earmuffs.” Irv was a slight, Hispanic man with a black sweater, thin tie, glasses, and a black mole to the left of his nose. But in his heart, he was Sinatra. He held the mic with confidence and started “My Way”. I found myself leaning forward, hoping he wouldn’t suck. Irv had pipes. He could really hit some notes. The pool crowd was oblivious to his musical stylings, but “Earmuffs” smiled appreciatively and tapped her boot. Alan brushed by me whispering, “Get a load of earmuffs.” I looked around to see a couple snickers from people at the bar. “That outfit, it’s more than I know what to do with,” shot Leslie from Research. “My Way” came to a dramatic conclusion. Irv bowed.
A middle-aged woman sitting with the cast of misfits applauded, stubbed out her ciggy and oozed up to take her turn. She was channeling Barbra Streisand’s “On a Clear Day” but her attire was a tribute to Liza Minelli – the chubby version. With her jet-black dyed hair and black shirt with batwings, she would strike a profile as if for a publicity photo. This group was really into the whole scene. “Earmuffs” got up to empty her ashtray and bumped into Alan in the process. No apology as she burrowed back to her booth of Karaoke divas. This woman just wouldn’t let the world get in her way.
Smoke from a clove cigarette wafted by. Amy ordered another mudslide saying she had signed us up to sing a song – I liked that. We could sing and not talk. I was no longer interested in the Hollywood gossip: blah, blah, blah development deal, blah, blah, blah, William Morris sitting on the project, blah, blah, blah. Didn’t anyone talk about flying dreams anymore? You know like, do you fly high with a smooth landing, or do you struggle to take off? Flying dreams were always interesting to me. I focused in on Amy’s mouth moving… still? She was telling me how great her job was going. She was allowed to write a few questions for a new game show pilot. I was congratulating her, but I found myself curious to see what “Earmuffs” was doing… She was leaning towards her friend Barbra/Liza. They were sharing a laugh. A loud Brad from Chicago stepped on my foot. He was apologetic and offered to buy me a drink. Fearing the inevitable conversation, I sighed relief as Amy and I were summoned by the Master.
We laughed like teenagers as we approached the center of the bar. I removed the mic from its holder and gave Amy a wink of encouragement. As we throatily attacked Cabaret, I noticed I didn’t know the verses as well as I thought. Good fun to improvise as the audience looked on. As Laura on the Dick Van Dyke show said once, “Sell it with a look.” Amy must have caught that show. Her smile was contagious. We were back to back, doing a Fosse move on a musical break when I realized even an aloof pool player was leaning on his stick, taking in our number. Enjoying a theatrical shimmy, I glanced over to “Earmuffs.” She was smiling and nodding at me.
What is it about total strangers making a connection? I didn’t know her or anything about her but I was drawn to her robust honesty. She seemed to just be exactly who she was. Maybe she reminded me of someone from my past, someone that was completely innocent, but picked on, for no real reason, like Gail Hurley, the high school nerd, who everyone harassed and I failed to defend. Strange, all these years later, it seemed this version of Gail Hurley passed go, collected $200 and found peace and some sort of acceptance at the Tattle Tale.
You can’t apply logic to this unseen power of connection. I can’t explain why the lifesaver commercial puts a tear in my eye. The father has his arm draped around his young daughter in the foreground. On the skyline in the distance a huge orange sun is setting. He whispers, “going, going gone.” Right on cue the sun disappears and the little girl begs, “Do it again, Daddy.” It’s very authentic to me, that moment, so brief in hindsight, when you feel your Dad is magic and has control of the world. I remember that feeling and it’s as real to me as blood spilling from a cut finger.
“Earmuffs” was real to me. She embodied all the souls that get vetoed because they didn’t have the fear or the common sense to play dress-up for the world. She didn’t throw on some hip huggers and a nicely fitted Gap shirt, or whatever costume society currently deems appropriate for social acceptance. She came in “as is.”
Alan was screaming something from the Sex Pistols that his girlfriend Irene seemed to have a special connection to. It was sort of a modern love ballad between them, even though Irene was singing with her eyes. It was almost midnight and I was tiring of the Tattle Tale scene. Finishing my vodka/cranberry, I hugged Amy and headed for the door. At this point, I was dying to get out of there. Loud Brad had found a new victim. I caught her grabbing her foot as he steadied her shoulders with an outstretched hand. What an ingenious scam. I wanted to be back at home, back in my pajamas, back in my comfort zone.
That’s when “Earmuffs” reached out and took my hand. I couldn’t believe it. It wasn’t just in my head. We had a connection. She was going to speak to me. She looked up through the coke bottles and said, “I love your bracelet.” Nothing more. Her face was so sincere. I needed to get out of there. I had said my good-byes, but I wanted to jump headfirst into Earmuff’s eyes. Maybe I could buy her a beer or write her life story. I thanked her graciously then turned to go, because that’s what we do, we go right when things are getting good.
I was walking out of the Tattle Tale, but then I could feel myself slowing. I looked down at the rhinestone lavender beaded bracelet she had admired and I knew she should have it. Everyone should have one dazzling thing. I turned on myself, spinning back towards “Earmuffs” in slow motion. I heard the words come out of my mouth, “you know what? I think you should have this.” Earmuffs seemed in shock, “Oh, no. Oh, Really, Oh no. Oh, REALLY?” I spoke again, “Yeah, I want you to.” I took off the bracelet, like it never really belonged on my arm and placed it in her hands. Walking out of that dive, I could feel my heart smiling as the misfits all huddled around the newly acquired accessory. The words, “Lola, she was a showgirl, but that was thirty years ago…” floated across the room, catching a ride on someone’s exhale.