Rainbowland III: The Kat Who Came Home Again

(With apologies to Lilian Jackson Braun)   OR
The Charge of the Glowstick Brigade

by Groucho

A fantasy that takes place somewhere over the rainbow, in one of many possible realities involving Katharine McPhee, her McPhamily, McPhriends and McPhans

“Are we really going in a stretch limo, Dad? That’ll be so cool.” Ajay checked himself out in the mirror, pushing his hair this way and that, tugging on his orange “I Got McPheever” t-shirt I’d ordered for him on-line, and trying to figure out what was the best way to wear his All Access pass. I had to smile at him because as hard as it was for me to hide my excitement, it impossible for him at age ten. We were going to an American Idols Live concert at Staples Center, there would be thousands of people milling around, and someone we actually knew would be performing. As they say, it just don’t get no better than that, unless you’ve got Lakers tickets.

“Settle down now,” I said. “Next thing I know you’ll be grabbing a harmonica and doing a Taylor imitation just to let off steam.”

“Shoulda heard them knocked-out jailbirds sing, let’s rock!” he sang out, waving his arms and dancing around the room.

“Take it easy,” I admonished. “Don’t get yourself all worn out and sweaty this early in the day. You’ve got to last a long time.” I should have known better. My son could run on sheer nervous energy longer than anyone else I knew, with the possible exception of myself.

Not unexpectedly, he brushed against a bureau during his wild dance and sent a lot of things flying off into the floor. “Oh crap,” he said, sounding way too much like me as he nearly lost his balance trying to grab framed pictures on their way down to the floor. I dived for my favorite coffee mug, which, thankfully, was empty, and slid across the floor holding it in my outstretched hand. It was really nothing special, just a simple little ceramic cup with a couple of cartoon animals on one side and my name, Dr. Christopher A. McDonald, on the back. I’d put in a lot of volunteer hours at the local Humane Society, in return for which my name had been embossed in gold. That cup meant a lot to me.

“Sorry, Dad. Nice catch, by the way. This is a good one of us, isn’t it?”

I had to admit, I liked the photo he was holding. There we were, the two of us, in our matching karate uniforms, which differed only in the color of our belts, mine black, his yellow. He was eight at the time and had just started lessons. He’d been so proud of that first promotion. We were facing toward opposite sides of the picture at a 45 degree angle, crouched with one arm outstretched in a punching position, a couple of ferocious Tae Kwon Do warriors, ready for anything. I liked it, Ajay liked it, Katharine had liked it so much she had requested a copy for herself, so in that sense the two of us had accompanied her all over the country on tour.

The other frame contained a series of candids of all three of us in different poses—me picking Katharine up and holding her chest high, no small feat, as she was nearly as tall as me; Katharine and Ajay making faces at each other; one of the three of us slurping on ice cream cones taken by an obliging stranger.

It had been a really great day, despite the fact that one third of us had been required to pass the entire time in silence. It had been absolutely impossible for Ajay to resist trying to tempt her to talk, even though he knew she was on physician-ordered vocal rest, and he knew I was going to yell at him about it, which was kind of silly because I teased her a lot myself.

His worst trick had been sneaking out into the surf by himself, which he was strictly forbidden to do. Katharine spotted him before I did, stood up, and let out an ear-shattering whistle. He heard it, as did most of the people on the beach, and saw her waving an arm at him in an unmistakable “Get over here now!” gesture. Katharine did a lot of frowning and swatting that day, but it was invariably followed by a smile and a hug. They’d met before but never really spent much time together. An odd way for the two of them to get acquainted with each other, perhaps, but they seemed to manage. Figuring out whether or not you like somebody doesn’t always depend on the things you actually say to each other, I decided.

Then the pictures started to surface on the Internet, and I didn’t know whether to be pleased or offended or just startled to realize that there was a good chance that from now on, my life, by association with the woman I’d chosen—or who’d chosen me--was going to be public property. I even had a moment of panic, wondering if there was any way that could possibly hurt the one person I loved most in all the world. Then I had to stop and ask myself who I really meant when I said that. There had never been anyone, except possibly my parents, whose welfare meant as much to me as my son’s, but looking at our beach-day pictures, thinking what they meant for our joint future, I felt some confusion. And someday, down the road, it might get even worse.

At least none of the pictures from Beach Day were damaged. “That was a good day, wasn’t it?” I said.

“Absotively and posilutely,” Ajay said. He loved to play with words. He loved Elvis and karate and playing the trumpet. And I loved him. I once told my dad that although I wasn’t much of a Bible scholar, there was one phrase I understood totally, one place where I thought I knew exactly what God was talking about, and that was when he said “This is my beloved son, in whom I am well pleased.” That was exactly how I felt about my son, and one of the few times when I thought God made perfect sense.

It didn’t matter a bit that according to the law, he wasn’t my son at all. He was my brother. His legal parents were James and Ildith McDonald, same as mine. Long story. At eighteen, I’d thought I knew it all. I didn’t. Somehow I wound up the father of a son while still in my early years in college and spun off on a learning curve I would never have believed possible. Amanda and I had no desire to be married, to be parents, in fact to be any part of this new situation we found ourselves in. Left to our own devices, we would no doubt have come up with a totally different solution to our problem, but her parents intervened. She would have the baby and put it up for adoption immediately. No discussion was allowed.

Somehow this version of things hadn’t appealed to my father at all. In his eyes, if there was any sin involved, it would be allowing his grandchild to be raised by strangers, subject to whatever whims ruled their lives. No, that wouldn’t do at all. His significant other agreed. Dad’s an architect, Ildith is a lawyer. Between the two of them, they know how to plan and execute, and they play to win. Dad is the laid-back half of the partnership; my stepmother is the go-for-broke attack dog. Dad’s longish gray hair and hairbrush mustache lend him a kind of eccentric, 19^th century look, but more than one person has found to their surprise that, after spending an hour with this disarmingly soft-voiced man, they wound up doing exactly what he wanted, and happily, because they were certain it was their idea. By the time they had to fight for custody of their grandson, Dad and Ildith had raised the good cop-bad cop/divide-and-conquer routine to the level of high art

Their first move was to get married; their second was to petition for custody of my child. In most states, blood seems to lend credence to anyone’s claim, whether it makes sense or not.  In this case it did. I didn’t know what I thought of the arrangement. I didn’t really want to be anyone’s father, but my dad was quietly adamant that I should be part of things. After all, it was largely my lack of judgment that had caused the problem in the first place.

Amanda and her parents all wound up in Minnesota. I didn’t know why, didn’t care, didn’t ask. Call it the shallowness of youth, call it whatever you will, but I was just glad they were gone. It didn’t take me long to discover that accidents are not necessarily mistakes, and that I hadn’t the slightest desire to share anything about the boy I named Aric James McDonald II with anyone other than my parents. Not even the diapers.

I’d grown up a lot by the time I graduated from college.

                                                **************

The limousine was big and long and white. “Dad, it looks like a pimpmobile!” Ajay said before I could shush him. “Could you behave yourself just a little around the McPhee’s,” I said. “They raised two well-behaved young ladies. They’re probably not used to mouthy little guys like you.”

“I’ll be a perfect gentleman,” he said.

“I’m waiting to feel that little cool breeze on the back of my neck,” I said. “You know, the one that’ll tell me Hell just froze over.”

“Dad,” Ajay said exasperatedly, “have a little faith.”

Somehow all seven of us fit in the limo and we all tried to pretend we weren’t excited. It was the same show Katharine had performed in for weeks now, in fact the same one some of us had seen the night before, and planned to see several more times before she left the state. But this seemed special. This was her actual home-coming concert, and Staples Center was one of the largest venues the tour played. And it would be the first time Ajay had ever actually seen her perform live.

The California leg of the trip covered a lot of territory and five separate concert dates. On top of that, Katharine was trying to make time for me, see her family, and get in some time in the recording studio. Flying ahead while the bus lumbered across the Western states gave her a couple of extra days, and there were a few random days off between cities here and there, but after that it was back into the bus for a grueling trip north, followed by more flights ahead of the bus because of the sheer distance between stops. We were all hoping her voice, recently wounded foot, and nerves could hold up under it all. I tried not to be greedy and ask for more of her time than she could spare, given that schedule, but it wasn’t easy.

I could have waited until she actually got to L.A. but somehow the night before we’d wound up in a hotel in San Diego. I wanted to see her onstage for the first time during the tour and then have a leisurely unwind afterwards. “I’ll bet the people running the tour aren’t very happy about this,” I said. “I get the impression they like to keep you under control.”

“They say it’s for our safety,” Katharine said. “Where’s the bathroom?”

I nodded in the general direction. “Why, do they think some demented fan is going to abduct one of you?”

“A demented fan did abduct me,” she said, pulling the door shut.

“This doesn’t count!”

She came out wrapped in a huge towel with another around her hair. “We’ve got to get there early tomorrow,” she said. “My hair’s going to need some work. I just submerged myself and soaked everything in there. Felt great.” By that time I’d arranged for a Cobb salad, some bagels and cream cheese, and a bottle of champagne with strawberries to be sent up. “It’s too late to eat this much stuff, but I’m starved. You’re gonna help me, aren’t you?”

“You bet,” I said. We tucked into the food like we hadn’t eaten for days.

She stood up and shook her head so her hair would fan out, presumably so it could dry better. Whatever the reason, it was tantalizing as all hell. “Women should never cut their hair,” I observed. “They just don’t know the effect it has, watching you do something like that.”

“Like what?”

“The way you toss your head and your hair flies around. You have to know what it looks like. You choreographed your new song that way. I mean, you could have just started singing, but you went up to the top of the steps and turned your back, so you could look over your shoulder and flip your head so your hair would do that. You have to know.”

“I can’t see it.”

“Oh hell, you know!”

She perched on the end of the bed with one leg extended toward me. “What’s your favorite thing in the whole concert?”

“Oh God, I don’t know. Maybe when all those screaming people just shut up and get quiet when they hear the Rainbow intro because they know they’re going to hear something really special. That whole thing’s just magic. But you know what’s really cute? That little thing where you bounce around in a circle like a happy little kid wearing her mother’s long dress.”

“I didn’t say your favorite thing I did. I just said your favorite thing.”

“Same difference. And then I like when all the girls are up at the top of the ramp together, and you all kind of do this little bump and grind and wiggle thing with the drums, and then you fling your head back and march down the ramp. Know what I mean?”

“You mean this?” The difference in seeing that move done by a two- dimensional figure that’s about an inch high on a computer screen, and seeing it done six feet away from you by a real live full-size beautiful girl wearing nothing but a white towel is just incredible. Especially when the last move dislodges the towel. “Oops,” she said, wrapping her arms around herself. “You know, air conditioning is wonderful, but I’m still a little damp and I’m getting goosebumps.”

“Goosebumps are bad,” I said, feeling my mouth getting dry despite the champagne.

“You could come over here and besame mucho and see if it helps any.”

“How do you expect me to remember my high school Spanish  when I can’t even remember my own name right now,” I asked.

“Well, when I was on vocal rest I learned a lot about non-verbal communication,” she said, “so why don’t you just come over here and we’ll figure it out together.”

Her skin felt soft and cool and the first touch made me think briefly of the scene where Robocop reprogrammed himself by grabbing a high tension wire. Had it really been that long since my flight out to join the Idol Tour for a day? There was no place in my mind for gentleness or subtlety. I pulled her against me rather roughly but since she didn’t seem to care I just let the jungle take over.

When coherent thoughts finally started floating back up to the surface of my consciousness again, I realized I was gasping for breath and Katharine was stroking the back of my head, chuckling. Smiling at me. Not quite what I expected. “Sorry about that,” I said.

“Why?”

“Well, about five minutes ago we were talking, and now we’re talking again. What does that tell you?”

“It tells me you weren’t partying with strippers while I was gone. I like that.”

“No,” I said, “no strippers, no pizza delivery girls. I was just a lonely guy pining for his love.” I tried to shift around and make things more comfortable, but she didn’t seem to want me to, so I stayed right where I was. I realized she was looking up at me with a very, very serious look in her eyes. Something had shifted in her mind just within the space of a few seconds.

“That’s the way it’s going to be if you stick with me,” she said, almost sadly. “You know that, don’t you? This is just what my life’s going to be like, probably for a long time. There might be a lot of separations. Can you handle that?”

“IF I stick with you?” I said incredulously. “Did I hear you say that?” She didn’t answer. “Look at me. Look me right in the eyes.” It seemed incredible that we could be so physically connected and still have this gap in understanding. “Okay. Now. Are you listening?” She nodded. “Newsflash. You’re worth waiting for.”

I really didn’t want to get out of bed the next morning, but I got her to L.A. in plenty of time. She had to be there early, but the rest of us didn’t arrive at the arena until after six. Ajay was geared up and looking for other orange t-shirts, so on the way in, we noticed the occasional small knot of similarly attired people, some of whom seemed to be lugging bags stuffed full of something we couldn’t quite determine. “That’s the homecoming people, Dad!” Ajay said excitedly.

“The what?”

“The fans are doing this tribute thing, it’s kind of a surprise, didn’t you read any of the stuff online?”

“Guess I missed that. What are they doing?”

“Passing out those glowstick things to light up in the audience before she comes out so she can see them. See that guy over there? Can I go get some for us?”

“Don’t get out of sight,” I said. I told the others to go on ahead while I waited until Ajay had finished his business. He seemed to be having an animated conversation with the orange shirts and I could see him holding his arms out so they could read the lettering on his chest. He marched up to me with a huge grin on his face, pockets stuffed full of glowsticks, one of which he handed to me. “Do you know how to operate these things?”

“Sure,” he said, “but we don’t do it until later.”

“So what’s the deal?”

“They’re gonna try to get everybody to chant her name and light up the sticks right before she comes out. I think that’s neat, don’t you?”

“It is neat. Now let’s go catch up with the others.” Everyone else had disappeared inside, and we got even farther behind as Ajay wanted to examine all the sale merchandise. He wanted a t-shirt. He wanted a program. It might even be fun to have his picture taken with the lifesize cutouts of all the Idols. I decided what the heck, we had a personal stake in all this, but anything he bought he had to carry. And since the souvenirs weren’t cheap, he’d darn well better hang onto them real tight.

Just as we were ready to go find an entrance and search for our seats, we heard a commotion behind us and turned to see what was going on. A man in an orange t-shirt was running full tilt toward us, a canvas bag flapping at his side. “That’s the glowstick man!” Ajay said.

I noticed that several more orange shirts were running in our general direction as well, weaving in and out of the crowd. Soon what looked like an entire orange shirted family was careening off people. And Ajay had disappeared. As I turned to look for him, Orange One hit me from behind and I nearly fell to the floor. “What the hell—“ I began.

 “They’re confiscating the glowsticks!” Orange said, trying to catch his breath.

“They who?”

“Security. You can’t bring ‘em in from outside because they sell ‘em here, or something. I’m not sure, but some guy started chasing me, and he was about three times bigger than me so I ran.”

“So what happens to the homecoming thing?”

“I don’t know, I guess we’re not gonna be able to pull it off. Oh good grief, here he comes again,” Orange Shirt said, pulling off his t-shirt. Luckily he was wearing a long-sleeved shirt underneath it. “Maybe they won’t recognize me without it.”

“Let me have it,” I said. “They’re not gonna give me too much trouble with this,” I said, waggling my All Access pass at him.

“Yeah, but it’s a special shirt for volunteers,” he said. “It’ll make you stand out.”

“I’ll bet my buns they can’t tell one orange shirt from another,” I said. “Give it to me. Give me some of those glow-whatchums too. Maybe I can pass some out for you.”

“They’re checking people at the entrances. Purses and everything. You’ve gotta hide them somewhere.”

I saw a rather large security guard not far from us craning his neck looking for his fugitive, but evidently the shirt change had worked. I stuck handfuls of contraband in my pants pockets, then changed my mind and wrapped up a bunch in the orange t-shirt, deciding that I would tell anyone who asked that I’d just bought it at a concession stand. It would be easier, I thought, if I actually had a bag to carry it in like Ajay. Oh damn. Where was Ajay?

After a second of panic, I saw him dodging back toward me, in and out of people.

“Dad, they’re chasing people!”

I looked in the direction he’d come from and saw what appeared to be a lady and her daughter, both in orange shirts, heading the opposite way, dripping glowsticks they had evidently crammed into every available space in their clothing. “Now that looks suspicious,” I said. “Why don’t you go help them? Pick up what they dropped, ask them if you can have some to pass out inside. Maybe we can do it at intermission.”

Tickled to death to have a mission, he turned and ran off again.

“What are you gonna do with all those?” I nodded toward his canvas bag.

“I dunno. They’ll confiscate them at the door. We had no idea this was gonna happen. We had this great plan. We were gonna take in thousands of ‘em, light up the place right before she came out. It was gonna be such a—“ He broke off and sighed.

“A neat thing to do,” I finished.

“Yeah.”

“How many of you are there?”

“A couple of dozen. We’re all from around here so we were the logical ones to do it. There were people planning this from all over the country though. We keep in touch.” He frowned at me. “You look familiar. Oh jeez.”

“I love the paparazzi,” I said. “Well, hey, at least I can tell her you guys tried.”

He was about my height but a little older than me and I would probably have never noticed him if the workings of Fate hadn’t crashed us together like this, because he had one of those faces that look like a million other guys on the planet. But when I said that, he smiled like I’d just handed him a check for a million dollars. The sheer delight in that smile turned him into a different person. “I guess that’s the important thing,” he said. “She’s gonna have to light the place up all by herself.”

“She’s good at that,” I said. “What are you gonna do with your bag?”

“We’ll take it,” said a young voice behind me. The rest of The Fugitive’s family had arrived. “I’m gonna stash it in the Ladies Room. Maybe I can hand some out while people are coming in and out. Everybody’s real nice when I tell them what it’s for.”

“Wait a minute,” I said, as the realization dawned on me that I had lost Ajay again. “Do you remember a little boy in an orange shirt who was picking up the stuff you dropped?”

“Mm hmm,” the daughter said. “He was handing out glowsticks to everybody he could get to. He was havin’ a great time.”

“Great. But where is he?”

They looked at each other, then up at me. They obviously had no idea. “Oh God,” I said. “I’ve lost my kid!”

“They’ve surely got a PA system in this place,” the woman said. “By the way, my name’s Mollie. This is Jessica. He’s Robert.”

I suppose there’s something to be said for not forgetting your manners even in the midst of an emergency. “I’m Chris,” I said, passing my hand around.

“Don’t you have a meeting place in case of emergencies like this?” Mollie asked. Leave it to a mom to know that trick.

“We usually figure out all that stuff ahead of time.”

“Ever been here before?” Mollie was miles ahead of me.

“Sure.”

“Where’d you pick the last time?”

“Where else? McDonald’s,” I said, feeling like the grizzly bear that had been hugging my chest and cutting off my breath had finally stepped back and freed me from its near-death grip.

While they went about their surreptitious activities, I set off as fast as I could through the crowded hallways, hoping frantically that Ajay would remember what I should have told him but hadn’t, and cursing myself for being a rotten parent. Then all of a sudden I saw him and stopped dead in my tracks. He appeared to be rising up out of the crowd until he towered over them. I decided I’d temporarily lost my mind along with my parenting skills, but just to be safe I yelled his name as loud as I could.

The head floating above the crowd swiveled around and screamed back at me. “Dad! I’m over here!”

The crowd parted long enough for me to see that he was being lifted up by a large man in a blue shirt with what looked like gold buttons