Enchilada Ed

27

Anywhere happened to be Mike and Yessica's apartment. Not glamorous or rebellious, but at least it wasn't home. Ed figured his dad might even get a little bit worried about him.

"If you call Mike now, you might be able to get him to order something for you," Yessica sat on a stool by her living room's half-wall, and flipped through a booklet of blue paint swatches.

"I don't really feel like Mexican food." Ed slumped onto the neoclassical Jane Austen couch.

"That's a first," Yessica peered up from her swatches. "I don't think I've ever seen you turn down free food, let alone Qdoba."

"I guess being Enchilada Ed is starting to get to me," Ed joked.

"Eating a burrito is like cannibalism for you, huh?" Yessica said, "Well, when Mike comes home with the carry-out, I'll shield your eyes from the horror." She held the swatch book over her eyes as if it were a blindfold.

"Thanks Yessica," Ed laughed, "I don't know how I will repay you."

"Pick out a color for the second bedroom," Yessica tossed Ed the swatch book, "I'm stuck between Morning Periwinkle and Boston Mist."

"Boston Mist?" Ed lifted his brows, "so the mist in Boston is one exact shade of blue now?"

"The name is silly, I know," Yessica conceded, "But isn't it a dreamy color?"

"You've been doing a lot of house stuff recently," Ed tried to find the Boston Mist swatch, "Getting new furniture, painting the bedroom-" He looked up at Yessica. Half a thought formulated in his head before she again began to speak.

"I heard you got a call from Ellen."

Whatever Ed had been thinking was lost.

"One of the producers from her show called my mom," Ed said, "how did you know?"

"Your mom called me when you were napping and wouldn't answer your phone," Yessica explained, "Are you going to go?"

"Probably not," Ed lowered his eyelids, "Dad thinks I'm going to embarrass myself on national television."

"He's not going to allow it, then?" Yessica seemed disappointed.

"I mean, he left it up to me," Ed fidgeted with the swatch book's binding.

"So do you want to go?"

"It sounds fun," Ed paused, "or at least better than sitting in El Gringo's backroom, staring at my phone all week. I just don't want to get more famous," his eyes widened as he considered that prospect, "I'd like to be let back into school at some point."

"Being on Ellen won't make you Kenneth Branagh-level famous, though," Yessica argued, "Unless you sign with some talent management corporation and make Vines every week, your internet fame probably won't last more than six months. A year tops."

Ed thought about the talking heads on Vine or YouTube. For a while a few years ago, Emily had attempted to pick up vlogging. Gina had called her video rants 'insufferable.' Ed wouldn't go so far as to agree, but he couldn't imagine himself making videos for a career. He wasn't funny, he didn't have musical talent, or any interesting political opinions. In fact, the idea of being any kind of celebrity was horrifying. For one, he was starting to hate taking photographs with his fans- it wasn't the actual photo-taking that bothered him. He just hated to see the disappointment on the faces of the kids he'd had to say no to. If he became more famous, he'd have to deal with more of that disappointment, or spend all of his time trying to make an impossible number of people happy.

"I'd suck at being a celebrity."

"Then you don't have to be a celebrity," Yessica said softly, "Just think of this experience as a lightning strike in your life. Stunning in the moment, but," she snapped her fingers, "it's over like that. You might as well as fun while it lasts."

"So you think I should go?" Ed asked.

"I think you should do what you want," Yessica rubbed Ed's shoulders. "Come on, let's see what those swatches look like under the bedroom's overhead light."

***