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During a break in the big game, Mum changed channels to see a bit of the news.
“Donny!” she cried. “Get down here and see this! They’re talking about your show on the CBC!”
The concert! I had forgotten about it, and, believe me, that had been a welcome oblivion. Filled with dread, I quickly tidied myself up and joined my parents in the living room. The CBC anchor woman was explaining to the rest of Canada who Steven McCartney was and how he had come to be booked for a small but wildly popular concert in Hamilton, Ontario, of all places.
“Few could have predicted the impact on Hamilton’s economy when local entertainment columnist Donny Love began a series of articles on his old childhood friend. Today, there is a booming industry in Hamilton and elsewhere for Steven McCartney paraphernalia. Tickets for today’s concert have been estimated to have a street value of at least four-hundred dollars Canadian, which is remarkable, considering that the venue is a high school auditorium. McCartney is a mystery, without a recording to his name, yet his popularity has soared in the past few weeks, as Hollywood has jumped on the Steven McCartney bandwagon. Several red-carpet celebrities from Los Angeles will be in the audience today, to cheer for this iconic hero. Michael Vareau has more as he reports to us from Hamilton.”
The mention of Hollywood stars at the concert stopped my heart. Who? Was this a publicity thing staged by Sharon? Or had people in Hollywood really swallowed this fantasy? This was getting way too big, but there was nothing that I could do. I thought of the rehearsal with Maurice—I still had no idea if he could even sing—and my stomach heaved.
“Honey, are you feeling alright? You look awful.” Allison had joined us in front of the TV and was staring at me.
“I just need the bathroom,” I said breathlessly. I hurried over to my Mum’s pink and gold main floor powder room.
“Donny, now that room’s for guests, remember!” my Mum called out after me. “Don’t be leaving a mess of my towels!”
As I hovered over the toilet, stomach churning, I could hear much of the broadcast through the door.
“Oh my goodness!” Allison cried out to me through the bathroom door. “Did you know that Pam Anderson is coming today, Donny?” There was a pause. “And Brad Pitt! Brad Pitt!” I could hear her trying to calm her voice for my sake. Then I heard shrieking from Allison and whoops from my folks. “Paul McCartney! Oh my God! Paul McCartney! AAAAAH!”
There may have been other stars mentioned, but I was beyond hearing them. I vomited violently for several minutes. Allison knocked softly on the door and came in. She bent over me, putting a motherly hand on my back and handing me wads of toilet paper. Nothing says “I love you” like staying with someone while he pukes his guts out.
When I had finished, Allison helped me to sit on the toilet lid and calm myself. My hands and legs were still shaking. I opened my mouth to say something, but Allison beat me to it.
“Donny, I want to say a few things to you. First of all, I know that you’re terrified about today, but try not to be. Whatever happens will happen. I don’t know if we’ll be sued, or if there are criminal charges that could be laid against you. I don’t know if you’ll still have your job. Maybe we’ll have to flee the country. I don’t know.” (At this point, I was feeling terribly reassured. That Allison sure knew how to drive a nail home.) “I do know that, whatever happens, I’ll be there with you, and our marriage will withstand whatever horrible circumstances might arise.”
I stared at Allison, not sure whether to wail in panic or laugh.
“Secondly, whatever happens as a result of this column and this concert doesn’t even matter. It doesn’t, Donny. What matters is our family—you, me, and our little baby.” She rubbed her tummy lovingly. “Just keep reminding yourself, honey: all that matters in this life is your relationships with the people who love you.” She smiled beatifically at me. Was that a light glowing behind her head? I felt like I was watching the last few minutes of an episode of Touched By An Angel.
“Okay, last thing I want to say, and then the sermon will end.” She suddenly jerked with a suppressed giggle. “Would you pul-eeze introduce me to Brad Pitt?”
My Dad grumpily called out “What’s goin’ on in there?” at the sound of Allison’s peals of laughter.
