Chapter 36, Minneapolis, 1987

YOU’VE TOTALLY GOT THIS

I’m dressed in my best friend’s mother’s coat, handbag, and shoes. “I AM Linda.” Repeat… “I AM Linda.” I don’t have a fake ID, so this had better work. It’s up to me to buy all the booze at Liquor Lyle’s for our party this weekend. Carolyn and I are staying at our friends Jen and Steph’s house in Golden Valley. Their parents are out of town. Carolyn and Jen are picking up groceries, and Steph and I, discovering there’s only a four pack of wine cooler and five beers, decide to head out and buy wine. Carolyn has lost her fake ID, so we have to be inventive. Traveling slowly down highway 55 in Steph’s Chevy Nova, I continue to work on my “sophisticated lady voice.” The wheels are turning in my head. I have a plan. I’ve used this voice before, actually just last weekend, calling my father’s well-known Home and Garden radio show. Carolyn and I decided it would be hilarious to prank call the live Saturday show. Initially, even he is fooled into believing I am a middle-aged garden buff named “Joyce.” Carolyn thinks my voices are hilarious. My biggest challenge is to avoid laughing with her and at myself as she sits in the room with me, giggling into a throw pillow.

“Fred, it’s Joyce! I’m one of your biggest fans…never miss a show…never never never.” Carolyn has convinced Dad’s producer to patch me in ahead of all the other calls. The moment I utter my fake name, in my fake voice, Carolyn grabs a sofa pillow and holds it in front of her mouth to silence her laugh.

“Well, thanks, Joyce,” Dad says. “How can I help you today?” Dad sounds, on the radio, just like he does in person. His voice is like Archie Bunker’s from All in the Family, or as older radio fans have commented, Jackie Gleason from The Honeymooners. The Minneapolis paper once did an article on my dad and his co-host entitled, Minnesota’s Real Grumpy Old Men. Every year, on Christmas Eve, the radio station plays a recorded version of my dad reading, The Night Before Christmas. He not only sounds like Santa Claus, but he looks like him too. Carolyn scoots closer to the phone and leans into the call. I continue…

“Well, you see, Fred, I feel like I can’t take down my Christmas Tree. My fern is in love with it and starts wilting if I even start to take it down. It’s an old fern. But I just adore it! It’s like a part of the family. I don’t want to lose it…”

“What kind of fern is it, Joyce?”

“Oh, I don’t know, Fred…it’s like a big, giant, jungle-sprawling fern. It’s very attractive.”

“Well, it could be the heat of the lights, Joyce, or the humidity that watering the tree may be adding to the room. You may just have to keep it up all year.” He laughs from his belly.

“Why, yes, Fred…I think we will! There is a certain sparkle in that Christmas tree’s eye. Fred, I don’t know if you’ve been getting our thousands of fan letters, but the Fizzman’s LOVE you. We are HUGE fans.” Carolyn’s face plants into the pillow beside me, her body jiggling in laughter. I am silent because I too begin to laugh. Dad might be catching on… Dad laughs…he’s figured us out.

“Ha…she’s good, isn’t she?” he says to his producer before breaking for a commercial.

I can do it again. I can keep a straight face. This grown lady voice thing is old hat a week later! “I AM Linda.” It’s snowing heavier as we turn off the highway. When we park the car and I open my door, Linda’s shoe is engulfed in the slushy-salty parking lot snow cover.

“You’ve totally got this, Lila…I mean, Linda!” Steph says, starting to laugh.

“Shut up! Don’t start laughing! I’ll lose it.” I shut the car door, leaving Steph inside the Chevy Nova’s heated blue interior. I walk the hundred or so feet into Liquor Lyle’s. Guessing that confidence may be my best tool, I bravely approach the salesman at the checkout counter. He’s young, maybe a college student. “Hi, there. I’m having a dinner party tonight, just a few friends from the office. I have to be honest with you. I barely drink and I need to buy some wine. Could you help me by suggesting some things?”

“Sure, ma’am,” he says as he moves around to the front of the counter. “Follow me.” I notice his name tag says “Bryce” and the back of his hair looks super greasy. He tucks in his Liquor Lyle’s team shirt, which is way too big for him and creates an awkward shirt tail ball in the back portion of his pants. He leads me to the chilled wine aisle and says, “Since your party is tonight you may want already-chilled wine.” He opens one of the walk-in sized doors and pulls out a bottle of Chardonnay. “This one’s nice. A lot of ladies buy it.”

“Yes…yes..that should work. How about four bottles? My friend Rhonda is coming, and she’ll throw one whole bottle back on her own,” I say in a low laugh.

“Yeah, no problem. You need red too?” I suddenly notice the price on the wine and internally panic; I may not have enough cash for red too. I exhale.

“Oh, just give me one of those cheap boxes, Bryce. My intern is the only one who drinks the red, and I don’t need to spend any money on him.”

“Cool,” he says, grabbing a wine box. As we walk back to the checkout counter, I remove my fifty-dollar bill from Linda’s purse.

“Oh lord! Look at the time! My guests may arrive before I get home!” I slap the fifty on the counter and begin pushing the cart towards the door. “Keep the change, Bryce! Thank you! Gotta run!” Inside the Chevy Nova, Steph gives me a high five as we peel out of the parking lot, blaring a 10,000 Maniacs cassette. Steph’s house is less than five minutes away. Our sisters are eating Planter’s cheeseballs and unpacking groceries in the kitchen when we come through the back door. Seeing our cache of bottles and boxed wine, Jen smiles and says, “Impressive.” I feel like one of my sister’s cool friends.

“We lucked out,” I say. “The guy working there wasn’t much older than us. He either totally believed me or didn’t give a shit.”

“I’m sure it was the voice, Lila,” Carolyn says, licking her orange cheese ball-stained fingertips. “Your voices rock. Jen - we should totally have Lila call that horrible, slutty sophomore girl who broke up my friend Heather’s relationship!”

“Oh my God, that would be so cool! You totally have to, Lila!” Jen squeals.

“Wait, what happened with Heather?” I ask.

Carolyn steps closer to me and hands me a glass of wine she has poured. I feel so inside her cool friend circle. I don’t want this day to end! “Heather’s boyfriend, whom you don’t know - he goes to Southwest - totally dumped her for the slutty, loose sophomore who gives blow jobs during free period.”

“Yuck,” I say. “Really?” Jen walks over to me, holding the cordless phone. She punches in a number Carolyn has written on the back of an envelope before handing it off. Suddenly, I’m nervous. But I press the speaker button as we all hear the phone dialing the digits. We crowd together in a circle in the middle of the kitchen. I take a quick sip of the sour-tasting white wine and clear my throat.

“Johnson Residence,” a woman answers on the other end. Carolyn puts her forearm over her mouth and appears to be laughing. I turn around so I won’t make eye contact.

“Hello Mrs. Johnson. This is Joyce Fizzman from Planned Parenthood. I’m calling to confirm your daughter’s appointment for a diaphragm fitting at 3:45 Monday afternoon.”

“Excuse me?” she asks. Jen walks into the adjacent dining room as her body shakes from laughter. I repeat myself, taking a step in the other direction. “Yes, this is Joyce Fizzman calling from Planned Parenthood. Your daughter has a diaphragm fitting this Monday at 3:45 pm. I’m calling to remind you so she won’t miss another appointment. We had scheduled her last Wednesday, but she called to cancel since your car broke down. I do hope you’ve gotten it fixed so you’re able to drive her here on Monday.” There is silence on the other end of the line, followed by a fuming exhalation of breath.

“Thank you,” Mrs. Johnson says and hangs up the phone. I stare at the black cordless handset and turn around. Laughter erupts. Carolyn is laughing so hard, she is holding her stomach and tears are coming out of her eyes.

“Oh my God…oh my God,” she says. “I’m gonna wet my pants!”

“That was awesome, Lila,” Steph says mid-laughter. She raises her wine glass, and we toast one another. I finish my wine in one giant sip. The sour taste makes me cough. Carolyn pours me another glass.