Burial of the Dead

SEASONAL COLDS - Brian Wyman

BRIAN WYMAN

The news-bunny from the local CBS affiliate wraps the long black cord from around her legs and lets it fall behind her. She snaps her compact and looks in the mirror and checks her teeth, her lipstick and the eye-shadow. She asks her cameraman if her suit with the fine herringbone weave will strobe, and before he can answer she switches the microphone from hand to hand, feeling for balance and weight.

Jennifer Munch, the “Good Time Correspondent” is standing in the center of Brian’s Bakery and Coffee Shop, an establishment that was financed in July, built in August, opened to rave reviews in September and has been packed with customers ever since.

The TV station didn’t see any need to report on it when the grand opening took place on Labor Day, until Ms. Munch’s boss received word from on high that the station had been remiss in its duty to inform the public of Brian Wyman’s fabulous baked goods. So today’s the day for lights, camera, action, and Brian, shaking hands with customers who stand in line and stretch and peek to put themselves in the shot, asks Jennifer if he’ll need more make-up for the on camera interview.

Jennifer answers and ignores him at the same time. She mumbles something about his make-up being fine, though he should wipe the perspiration from his forehead.

“Too much shine?” he asks, feeling like a celebrity, talking celebrity-talk.

“Maybe a little,” she says as she takes some index cards from her pocket.

The camera guy’s a kid from U of H, on sabbatical for the semester with an internship at the station. He’s been working with Jennifer since August, travelling around the greater metropolitan area, lugging the equipment and dealing with the high- maintenance news-lady. Jennifer’s a bitch, but she’s been worse than usual because she’s frustrated with her boss and the station. She’s eager to do hard news, breaking news, investigative reporting, and every week she makes a request for more substantive assignments – and every week the station sends her off on one more puff-piece. She’s losing respect for all of it. She feels stuck and wants to make a change. But first she has to interview this baker about muffins and cakes and sweetness and light.

She takes a deep breath and bows her head. She tells herself there are no small stories, only small correspondents. She tries to center herself. She thinks: “energy” and “focus.” She flips through the index cards one more time. She makes a mental outline: Brian Wyman’s the good kid who made good. He used to work in a hospital doing something she needn’t get into. He became famous among friends and relatives for his culinary skills. He’s self taught. The talent appears to be God-given. His desserts have caught the eyes of some of the best chefs in the city. However, nothing exciting happened for Brian until one day when Mr. Coop Johnson, President of everything and CEO of everything else had the opportunity to taste one of Mr. Wyman’s vanilla tarts. After that things began to happen. Mr. Johnson secured the financing for the new bakery, and Mr. Wyman promised to build it on site where Mr. Johnson and all the insurance company employees could avail themselves of Brian’s genius. “Things happen fast when good people get behind something,” Brian was quoted in the Courant, and, indeed, things had happened very fast for Brian Wyman.

“Well, tell me, Mr. Wyman,” Jennifer begins, on camera, film at eleven.

“Please, call me Brian”

“Okay, Brian, tell me if this feels like overnight success for you?”

“Well, it was always a dream of my mother’s that maybe someday I’d have a place where I could cook and bake for people.”

“She must be very proud of you then.”

“I’m sure she’s looking down from heaven, and I hope she’s proud.”