Neil Armstrong Is My Uncle by Nan Marino

runt.” But there’s nothing. The only thing that I can really hold on to is that one “Arroooo!” The rest of it is a riddle.

Chapter Twenty-Two
Who Says You Can’t Learn from Television
    I SPEND THE whole next morning reading the letter over and over, and I still don’t understand it. The funny thing is whenever I had something that needed to be figured out, I’d turn to Kebsie.
    But now Kebsie is the one who needs to be figured out.
    Kebsie is a straight shooter. The girl says what she means and means what she says. That stuff about meaning more than words has me stumped. She might be trying to tell me something, but for the life of me, I can’t figure out what.
    I run my hands over the note so many times that the words smudge together. No matter how much I try, I have no answers.
    I need help. I am desperate.
    I go through my options of people to ask. It’s slim pickings. First I think about showing the note to Big Danny. He knew Kebsie, and he didn’t roll his eyes when she came his way, the way most of the kids on the block did. But Big Danny is such a boy. Anytime I try to talk to him about something serious, he makes lame jokes and changes the subject.
    There’s always Tim. He understands these things, but he’s hardly been around. He spends all his time at Mr. Pizzarelli’s. Besides, he’s not in a talking mood these days.
    For a crazy second, I think about having a heart-to-heart with Miss Know-It-All Grabowsky.
    Instead, I go to the living room, where Shirley is watching her programs.
    On TV, there’s a commercial. A group of ladies are in a grocery store squeezing toilet paper. I wait for it to be over before I speak. “Do you think that sometimes people mean more than they say?”
    Shirley pats the couch next to her, but I don’t want to watch. I want answers.
    I ask again. “Do you think people tell you things in ways other than words?”
    â€œThat’s a very difficult question, Tamara,” she says. But before she gives me a decent answer, the show comes on, and Shirley is lost in her soaps. I edge toward the kitchen, figuring my time is better spent making a peanut butter sandwich.
    â€œLook.” She points at a tall, skinny man on the television. “Don’t you remember from the other day? That’s Brad. See how he’s telling Emma that he loves her? What he really means is that he loves her, but he loves Anna more. It happens all the time, Tammy.”
    Brad is holding Emma close, and I can’t see how she’d know that he loves someone else. “How can you tell?” I ask.
    â€œIt’s not easy, but you can learn a lot from the TV.” She motions again for me to sit next to her. “Watch and learn.”
    The next scene comes on. Emily tells Michael to go to Peru in search of his treasure. “Now, why do you think that Emily says she’ll be fine, even though her heart is breaking?” Shirley asks.
    Before I can finish my shrug, Shirley continues. “She’s hiding her feelings. Emily doesn’t want Michael to know how much she’s hurting.”
    Another scene comes on, and a bunch of ladies are sitting in a hospital room, telling the one in the bed that no one will notice her injury, even though she is wrapped up like a mummy with bandages and gauze. “Why do you think they’re telling her that?” asks Shirley.
    â€œBecause they’re the stupidest group of ladies to walk the planet?” It’s probably wrong, but it’s my best guess.
    Shirley presses her lips together. “No, they’re not stupid. They’re trying to spare the feelings of their friend.”
    â€œOh.” I sink back into the couch, wondering if that’s why I told the lie to Tim about delivering Vinnie’s message.
    â€œRelationships are complicated, Tammy. Friendships. Family. And especially marriage…” Shirley’s voice fades.