Get Happy (11 page)

J
OY HANDED OUT
our paychecks, and Fin and I squealed like piggies. We had a plan to head straight for the ATM and then the music store. Hayes asked if he could join us, and I was happy to notice that Cassie overheard. Oh, and I made sure to let her know that a wonderful girl named Cory had booked her for a princess party in two weeks. “You’ll just love her,” I said.

The day was sunny and unnaturally warm for February, a day to make your own dream come true.

The guy at Tenley’s rolled his eyes when I walked in the door.

“She has the money!” Fin said.

With a dramatic flourish, I pulled the cash out of my purse — crisp twenties.

He stepped from behind the counter without saying a word and walked over to where the ukes were hanging. No reaction. No congratulations. No whoop or holler. No jig dancing. I guess some people live their lives minimalistically.

He took the one I wanted off the wall and handed it to me.

“Don’t you want to play them all?” Hayes asked. “To make sure you get the right one?”

One quick snort came out of Grumpy Gus.

I plucked each string: Mine, mine, mine, mine.

I’d say the sound was like music to my ears, but that wouldn’t do it justice.

After I paid, the guy handed me the receipt and my change. The whole thing took less than two minutes.

“That’s it?” I was incredulous.

“What did you expect?” the guy asked.

“I don’t know … to fill out a form … or take an oath or a test,” I said, “or go through some training process, like you do when you get a driver’s license or adopt a baby.”

“At the very least, a parade,” Hayes added.

“Congratulations,” the guy said, and sat on his stool and began leafing through a magazine.

“Thank you for shopping at Tenley’s Music Store,” Fin said with a slightly wicked smile. “We know you could have purchased this online and appreciate your business.”

The guy looked up at Fin with a cold stare, and we left.

“Have a wonderful day,” Hayes called back.

I didn’t care. I took off the tag that was tied to a tuning peg and started dancing with the uke cradled in my arms.

The guys laughed. “Minerva just got a puppy,” Fin said.

Downtown Evanston was hopping. People were out shopping, doing errands. As we walked down Dempster, I strummed a few chords, and the sound of those four strings ringing out in the middle of all that ordinary pedestrian traffic was magical. I could see myself reflected in the store windows: a girl with a uke sticking out of her backpack, walking down the street with her friends. An object can’t miraculously make
your life perfect, but every time I saw my reflection, I had to smile.

“Stop,” Fin said. “Let’s busk.”

“What’s that?” Hayes asked.

“To sing on the street, play for money.”

Hayes smiled. “I had no idea there was a word for that.”

“My Fair Lady,”
Fin said. “My first musical. I wanted the part of Freddy or Henry Higgins, but I got busker.”

I had memorized three songs from the uke songbook that Fin had given me for my birthday. I started to play “Somewhere over the Rainbow.” Fin took off the hat he was wearing, set it on the ground in front of us, and started singing harmony with me. Hayes played the part of the appreciative audience by putting a dollar in the hat.

People started smiling at us. A woman stopped and dropped her change into the hat. An old guy gave us the thumbs-up. Hayes joined in singing, and then who should come along? Fin’s parents and his two little brothers on their way to get soccer cleats. I am happy to report that they whooped and hollered when they saw us and went crazy over my new baby. Inspired,
I started wailing on the uke, playing this hoedown, old-timey song that I was making up on the fly — spin your partner round and round — and everybody started square dancing.

Sometimes, you have these perfect moments, these moments that are stuffed with a thousand times more life than they can seem to hold; and you want to laugh and cry at the same time because you are so happy, and yet you know the moment is going to end and eventually your soul is going to settle back down.

There was something about singing out there on the street with Fin and Hayes, something about the blue of the sky, something about Fin’s parents and brothers dancing, their faces, the way they were just letting it loose, something about having that uke in my arms, the simplicity of the strumming, the fact that all this joy was coming out of four little strings that belonged to me. It got me right in the heart.

16

I
N THE NEXT DAYS
, I could have concentrated on my uke and how fun it was that Fin and I were spending time with a new friend, but that would have been way too healthy.

Minerva, thy name is weakness. I had to go on to Cassie’s blog again.

A fresh entry. No comment from Keanu Choy yet.

Much to my dismay, [email protected] was blocked from making any further comments. Rattlefinks and fudderudder! What’s a girl to do? Create a new account.

There is a vocabulary word to describe the twisted pleasure I got from dropping little bombs on Cassie’s blog:
schadenfreude.
It means feeling joy at someone else’s misfortune. Fin taught it to me. It’s German or
Dutch or something.
Schaden
means “shadow” and
Freude
means “joy.” Shadowjoy.

It’s a terrible thing.

17

P
ERHAPS IT WAS
the desire to counteract all that negative energy with something positive that drove me to say yes to Fin when he suggested we pool the remainder of our paychecks to buy the FabAb Immediate Results Workout Program and to do the workout the night before our next gig.

The immediate result: abs of ouch and buns of oy.

Once again, you could find us hobbling toward the Get Happy office.

Joy saw us and said, “What now?” Then she noticed
the uke sticking out of my backpack and said, “No way, Minerva. It isn’t in the script.”

Fin tried to lobby for me, but it was to no avail. Some people simply have no vision. Maybe if I had been able to bring the uke along, things would have gone better, but as Aunt Joan always says: If wishes were horses, we’d all have saddle sores.

Hayes and I were dropped off at a condo complex, one building apart. Joy told us to meet in the middle for the pickup when we were done and gave us extra brochures to hand out, just in case. Luckily the weather was warm, so we didn’t need our coats. “Stay in character,” she said.

The dad answered. Asian. Smudge of white frosting on his nose. Warm smile. “Let me guess. You’re the mermaid?”

“Fins, scales, and all,” I said.

“Come in.” He led me through a quiet house.

You can walk into some homes and get an immediate bad feeling, and you can walk into others and get this sense of calm. I could tell this was the house of a really nice family just by walking through it. I couldn’t put my finger on why. I mean, it wasn’t like, ah, the
reason is because the sofa is facing southeast, which is the direction of peace.

“My daughter likes three things: soccer, strawberries, and
The Little Mermaid
.” He laughed. “If she could play soccer underwater while eating strawberries, she’d be in heaven.”