Page 27 of The Apparent Trap

I nod, pursing my lips. “Of course, I’ll get started on it today.”

“Awesome, you’re the best, Ezzie.”

“No problem,” I reply.

Even though all I have right now are big career goals sitting on top of a giant pile of seemingly insurmountable problems.

Chapter 9

Live events out of the studio are the best kind of work for me.

There’s nothing like shutting off your brain to everything else happening in your life and executing live television without a safety net. No matter what’s on my mind, five hours straight of event coverage is just about hitting goalposts. And not turning into a viral meme for something embarrassing.

We’re wrapping up the Thanksgiving Day parade coverage, and it’s gone great. It’s balmy for this late in November, in the mid-forties, and it’s made everyone more ready to look alive when the camera’s on them. Our day started up by the balloons, with Carmen giving the weather forecast to the country from beneath her green peacoat that admittedly pops gorgeously against her chestnut hair. I’m too big of a wimp to not wear a hat, but Carmen’s somehow making it work without one, the tips of her ears a little pink, but otherwise she’s pushing through as usual, without any indication of being anything other than perfect.

We made our way down to the end of the parade route for the latter part of coverage, and it’s been invigorating. We interviewed a high school band leader about their seventy-four-person ensemble that drove seventeen hours just to be in New York for the first time. We chatted with a famed Broadway musical actress about the advantage of today’s weather on everyone’s vocal cords. We spoke to an animator about the newest cartoon that’s been turned into a balloon. The crowds are ecstatic to not be freezing, and they’ve cheered and kept the energy up all day long.

The only part of the day that’s been unpleasant is that I’ve had to work hard to avoid Lee. I haven’t spoken to him since I heard about his addition to the Sweden trip, and I’ve seen no evidence of his surprise plan. But he’s popped up everywhere today because he did a segment about hot chocolate. He’s been handing cups out to attendees, charming the crowds with a little cranberry whipped cream he’s got in a fancy dispenser that everyone seems delighted by.

It was the first time Carmen and Lee had to interact on camera, and I won’t pretend like I didn’t breathe a sigh of relief when they both managed to not act weird. It was a quick bumper, just her asking about the hot chocolate and talking through how he made the whipped cream, then cutting to the two of them pouring cups and handing them out to the crowd. They’re both so goddamned professional. And photogenic.

It’s a lucky skill to have, to be able to switch yourself to on mode and let the brightness of that hide any flaws. I’m the same no matter what version of me you find—even when I’m wearing sparkly boots and makeup. But both Carmen and Lee have that ability to be an even more sincere and engaging version of themselves when the camera’s turned their way. I guess it’s not surprising, considering they’re related.

“How’d that feel for you?” I asked Carmen when we’d wrapped up the hot chocolate segment and had a bit of time before our next hit.

“What part?”

“Being live with Lee.”

She fiddled with her gloves, looking down so she wouldn’t have to meet my eye. “It was fine,” she said with a shrug.

I watched her, waiting for her to look up. Our wordless communication must’ve been getting better because she eventually did with a sigh, clearly knowing that I wasn’t letting it go without an answer.

“I appreciate that I hadn’t had to do that before,” she said honestly. “It’s hard to treat him just like any other person.”

“I get that.”

“But maybe it was . . . a little nice too?” She looked so unsure of what to feel. It reminded me of just how young she really is. How hard it must be to not know where you stand with your own father. How unnatural to have the kind of relationship where you want to take them at their word but you don’t trust it yet. For everything that’s currently weird with my dad, it reminds me to be exceptionally grateful.

I wanted to reach out and take her hand, but I stopped myself before I made it weird. Things were going better with Carmen, but not to that level.

“What do you want to do about Sweden?” I ventured, asking the question that had been on my mind ever since Sarah dropped the bomb that Lee was joining us.

Carmen stood up straight, as though the vulnerability was shutting off and the professional was steeled back. “I’m the reporter on the ground. I have to lead the segments no matter who’s in them.”

“It won’t be live,” I pointed out, sidestepping her bravado to still give her my versions of solace. “We’ll have as many takes as we need to get it right. And I’m leading the edits. So you don’t have to worry about any nerves or weirdness coming through in the final versions.”

“I trust you to make it work,” she said, the confidence of that statement buoying me.

But before I could delve any further, we both got pulled back into our next segment—more crowd interviews where Carmen had to smile and handle whatever else live-event television threw at her.

But the topic was never going to disappear entirely today.

Now, as the broadcast wraps up, we’re faced with Lee once again when he sidles back over to us.

“Hey,” he says, and Carmen turns around. Now that I’m looking for it, it really is clear that she’s less jumpy with him than she was even a month ago. As weird as our current subterfuge is, I’m surprised that I find myself rooting for Carmen to actually have a good relationship with her dad.

“Hey.” She’s smiling, and it’s hesitant, like warm caramel trying to soften ice cream.