Chapter 23
Russell
Jules has been acting weird.
We’re standing together on set, sandwiched between two large black cameras. Around us, the set of Today, Tomorrow bustles, people with headsets hurrying past, calling out information to one another, and holding up hand signals I don’t understand.
I wonder if this is what other people feel like in the emergency room, hearing words they don’t understand and feeling on the outside of the communications between doctors.
It’s humbling to be on this side of the equation, Jules and me on an island in the middle of the chaos.
This morning, I woke up before her and snuck out to get coffee.
When I came back, acting for Gus like I hadn’t spent the night before at their apartment, we all sat together at the island and shared breakfast. Multiple times, I caught her staring at me, eyes roaming my face like she was trying to find something there.
When I asked her about it, she deflected. I’ve written it off as a product of her son going on TV today.
“I just feel like I’m going to make a wrong move,” she whispers, glancing down at the cords that run along the floor like thick, dark snakes. “And bring everything toppling. How much debt do you think I could rack up if I set these cameras going down like dominoes?”
Today she’s wearing a simple black dress, and each time I glance at her, my mind helpfully provides me with a play-by-play of what it would feel like to peel it off her. How it might bunch around her hips before falling to the floor, that flush that spreads over her skin when it’s bare—
Now isn’t the time, but with her hair pulled up and her neckline dipping down—even modestly—it’s a lost cause for me to focus on anything else.
I put my arm around her, pulling her in close, practically feeling her nervous energy oozing off her skin. “I’m not going to let you do that.”
“Because you don’t want to be held liable?” she jokes.
Turning, I bring my lips close to her ear, loving the way she shivers at the touch, “You were willing to fake marry me. I don’t want to find out what you’d do if you owed Today, Tomorrow money.”
Laughing, she turns so our lips are nearly touching, her eyes shining under the studio lights as she whispers, “That’s different and you know it.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re you, and—”
A short woman in a headset drifts over to us, making a motion with her hands that can only mean quiet on set, and Jules is instantly quiet, like she might do all the damage she described just by making noise during the filming.
I desperately want to hear the rest of what she was going to say, but I’m quiet as well, pulling her closer to me as we refocus our attention on the little set before us.
Bathed in bright light and in front of a large screen showing a real-time view of Michigan Avenue, Gus sits with the two hosts of Today, Tomorrow, swinging his legs so they bounce against the white armchair under him.
He’s wearing a Christmas sweater—one Jules told me Ettie got for him—and a pair of dress pants that she ironed. His hair, while combed and smoothed this morning, and again by the hair and make-up people, is back to being a bit wild, though much tamer than his normal state.
The set is an amalgamation of different holiday decorations—a large green ornament glinting in the light, tinsel hanging from a large menorah behind the hosts, who are both wearing knitted cardigans and leggings, looking comfortable and festive.
Shifting seamlessly from loose laughter with Gus, the one closest to us turns and addresses the cameras, her voice just slightly more professional when she does.
“Welcome back from the break,” she says, “I’m Christie Elliot—”
“—and I’m Charlie Elliot—” her twin sister says, tilting her head and smiling winfully at the camera.
“—and right now on Today, Tomorrow, we’ve got a great segment for you. All month, we’ve been highlighting some of the best wishes for Santa from our local Chicago kids, and today’s—our last before the Christmas break—is, I have to say, my absolute favorite.”
“To catch you up,” Charlie says, leaning in conspiratorially toward the camera, “We had Zoe, who asked for a puppy after the loss of her dear Gizmo last year—” a pause while that footage flashes on the screen, “Neveah, who asked for a new couch for her family to spend quality time on—” footage of a little girl showing her mom the new living room furniture while her mom hides her face in her hands, “—and Ali, who asked Santa for the ultimate water slide to share with his siblings next summer.”
“Every wish this year has been wonderful to share with you all, but the next wish is one that truly warmed our hearts here at Today, Tomorrow. To tell you all about it, we have Augustus Harper here with us today.”
“Hi,” Gus says, as the cameras swing around to include him in the picture. He lifts one of his little hands and waves. “I’m Gus.”
Charlie and Cristie aww together, then Cristie says, “What are your favorite things about Christmas time, Gus?”
He tells them about the market and about having dog-nog with his mom, which only makes them laugh more. Jules shakes her head and presses her fist into her mouth, smiling so hard it looks painful. The studio audience is eating Gus up, laughing at his quirks.
Then, still laughing, Charlie asks, “Okay, Gus, so we have your letter to Santa right here,” she leans forward, whispering, “it comes to us first, but don’t worry—we’ll make sure Santa gets it.”
“Okay,” Gus says, nodding and clasping his little hands together sensibly on his lap. The audience chuckles.
“Would you please tell us about what you asked for this Christmas?” Christie says, and something on her face gives me pause.
“Okay,” Gus says again, nodding. Then, he turns and looks right at us, giving us a lopsided smile, a little gap where he’s missing a tooth. Looking at Jules, he says, “For this Christmas, I asked for a daddy.”
Jules goes completely still at my side. The audience is quiet. I look from Gus to the hosts, who are both facing him.
“Can you tell us about that?” Charlie prompts, her voice soft. “Do you remember what you put in your letter, Gus?”
He nods, sits up a little taller, and finally pulls his gaze away from Jules. The moment he’s not looking at her, she turns and pushes into my side, and I hold her while Gus continues speaking on stage.
“I want a daddy for me, and for my mommy,” he says. “She works a lot. And if we had a daddy, we could watch more movies.”
“You want your mommy to watch more movies with you?”
Gus nods, “And sometimes she has to go to places by herself. And Ettie says kids and
moms are okay without dads. I still want one. So, I asked Santa. And my mommy says I’m very good.”
Jules’ shoulders start to shake, and I hold her as she begins to cry silently, her face buried in my shirt.
Gus asked Santa for a dad, and the audience is eating it up. I’m even feeling a little teary as he talks, imagining a life with one more person in his life.
“…and we could go to the aquarium together.”
Christie and Charlie are eating all of this up, and Charlie opens her mouth to speak, but Gus has one more thing to add.
“And!” he says, lifting a single finger, which makes Charlie laugh. “Also, if I could have a little brother, I think that would be nice.”
Christie wipes under her eye, nodding as she says, “I think that would be really nice, too, Gus. Well, Today, Tomorrow can’t give you the dad or little brother, but we’ve partnered with Disney+ and AMC to make sure you and your mom can watch so many movies together.
We’ve also got family passes to the Field museum, Shed Aquarium, and the Chicago Children’s Museum. And, Mom?”
Jules straightens up, quickly wiping at her face, before the cameras turn and focus on her. I stand at her side, feeling protective and wanting to take her somewhere else. But Jules is smiling through the tears, and I’m not quite sure what’s going on in her head.
“For Mom, we can’t quite bring you the man,” Christie winks here, and Jules laughs thickly. “But we’ve got you set up with an all-inclusive spa pass, daycare included. And I’d say the massages over there are better than any man!”
The audience laughs, the cameras move away from Jules, and Christie and Charlie start to wrap-up the segment. Gus is still kicking his feet and making the audience laugh, and Jules buries her face in her hands.
“Hey,” I say, turning to her, pushing her hands to the side, and cupping her cheeks in my palms. When I catch her gaze, I command, “Take a deep breath with me, come on.”
Someone—an assistant of sorts—passes us a tissue, and a minute later, Jules is done crying and dabbing at her face.
“I’m sorry,” she says.
“You have nothing to apologize for.” It’s hard for me to read what she’s thinking—if it was me, I might be pissed about being blindsided like this. Is she worried about Gus? Wondering what the studio audience thinks about her?
“I just wish,” Jules whispers, clearly trying to get herself together before she has to see her son again. When she tips her head up to look at me, still dabbing under her eyes, she says, “that I could give Gus the life he deserves.”
“You’re Russell Burch.”
I turn to the sound of my name, ripping my gaze from Jules and Gus, who are managing a steady stream of admirers.
Aside from a slight red-tinge to her eyes, there’s no evidence that she was crying earlier.
A woman on the make-up team was nice enough to help Jules fix her mascara and everything else before Gus got back to her, so she could cover just how much his wish affected her.
We’re in a large room for the show’s after party, and I’m standing near the refreshments, trying to give Jules room but being available if she needs me. Gus ran to us after the filming wrapped up and threw his arms around Jules first, then around me, asking if I saw him on TV.
Now, people sip drinks and talk about the show. Some of the other guests from other segments talked to Gus, telling him he did a great job. Jules smiled through the whole thing, hiding well the way the interview affected her.
Of course she did.
“I am,” I say, taking in the man that stands before me. Tall and wiry, the management type, sticking his hand out to mine. My father’s training kicking in, I reach and out take it, shaking once, firmly, before dropping it. “Something I can do for you?”
“Ian Nelson,” he says, jerking his head in Gus’s direction. “You here with them?”
I don’t like answering so many questions. “I am.”
“I’m in charge of charitable outreach and fundraising for the channel,” Ian says, straightening his glasses. “I heard about that financial trouble over at the clinic.”
Now, I fully turn to him, looking him up and down. Wearing a worn fleece jacket over a plaid shirt, his bald head shining, the shadow of the hair he once had in a semi-circle over his ears. A pointed nose I’m sure did him no favors in grade school.
“You did?”
Ian shrugs, “Finance and fundraising circle talk, I guess. I’ve got a proposal for you.”
When I stare at him expectantly, he laughs nervously, his eyes widening, “Oh, you want to talk about it now?”
“Good a time as any,” I say, glancing back at Jules and Gus, before returning my attention to him. “What is your proposal?
“Today, Tomorrow always does something for the holidays, picks a local organization. Looks like his mom’s Instagram has already exploded with followers, and I’m willing to bet that if you make the kid one of his own, it will take off, too.
Augustus obviously just did a pretty good job of tugging on heartstrings there—I think we should capitalize on that. ”
My first reaction is to grimace at a statement like that—as though Gus was trying to tug on heartstrings rather than just being a genuine, charming kid. But I get what Ian is saying and reluctantly continue the conversation.
“And how would you do that?”
“I’m thinking a Christmas play with some other well-known kids from the city,” Ian says, rocking forward onto his toes. “I ran it by the execs, and they love the idea, even more if we can get Gus in the lead role.” We could do a BHC collaboration and even get some kids in from the hospital.”
The PR people over at the hospital aren’t going to be happy about doing the work on such short-notice, but I can already see how good this could be for the clinic.
A little extra money between now and when I can get the inheritance money in.
The winter months are always the busiest—falls on ice and slips in snow, illness and flu coming easier, especially to the young and elderly.
“What about kids from the hospital?” Jules asks, and I turn to see her and Gus at my side. Like it’s a place they return to often. Ian takes a step back to create a circle, glances at me, then to Jules, telling her about his idea.
She looks unsure, glancing down at Gus, who’s standing with one hand wrapped around her knee, his dinosaur in the other.
“What do you think, honey? Did you like being on TV? Would you want to do a play, like you did at school?”
Gus doesn’t pretend to think it over. He just shrugs, not bothering to look up from the toy in his hand, like it’s not a big commitment at all, “Yeah.”
Jules raises her eyebrows, then glances between me and Ian. “Okay. I mean—we’ll need more details, but if he wants to do it…?”
Then she looks to me, and I realize that, once again, she’s asking for my pediatrician’s opinion. I look at Gus, who seems completely calm, just like he was answering the talk show host’s questions.
He’s a natural in front of the cameras.
“As long as he’s up for it,” I say, feeling the weight of my opinion being included in this decision. “Then I’d say go for it.”
“Go for it!” Gus repeats, and Ian laughs, shaking his head like this is too good.
“Great,” he says, nodding at us. “I’ll email you the details.”
“Great,” Jules says, smiling up at me, looking impossibly pretty in her green dress, under the lights. “I guess we have a little starlet on our hands.”
Our hands.
I bite back the pride, “Yeah, I guess we do.”