The last place I ever imagined myself being was the green room of The Nancy Nolan Show. I shook my head in wonder every time I thought about the call I received just two days ago from Marci Mason, a behind-the-scenes Nolan show honcho. When I answered the phone, Marci asked for Lisa Matthews, which confused me since I had been Lisa Lawrence for the past twenty-one years. She explained that Lawrence was the name she'd gotten from my mother, who was looking for me.
I couldn't help saying, "I'm about a mile down the road from where I was when she left thirty years ago."
Marci sounded pleased by the tension in my voice and said, "Your mother's going to be on Friday's show. We'd like you to be on the show, too, as a surprise guest."
A surprise guest? Right. I glanced around the green room, which really was a light green. It seemed like all the talk shows called the room they kept you in until it was your turn to go make a fool of yourself "the green room." It was a standard feature, just like the "surprise" guest. Almost every time someone had run off and left their kids and wanted to be reunited, they had the kids waiting in the green room. In fact, "the kids" of the first guest, a father who had left a mere twelve years ago and wanted to see his brood again, two sons twenty-one and nineteen and a daughter fifteen, had just left the green room and were waiting to go on stage. They were all angry and ready to tell their father off. They seemed ready, even thrilled to get the chance to do it on national television, whereas I was ready to crawl into a hole.
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