Joan Rivers

I’m in the middle of writing when someone in the hallway screams. My doorbell rings three times. Each tone overlaps with the one before. Usually, my neighbor only rings twice. I leap out of my chair, run to the door, and swing it open with full force. As I expect, my eighty-two-year-old next-door neighbor is standing there. Leaning on her good leg. Pressing her phone against her ear. Waving her free hand in sheer panic. “Jake!” Bonnie cries.

“What’s wrong!?”

She sticks her finger up at my face and mouths the words ‘hold on’ with her lips. Then she brings her phone to her face like it’s a walkie-talkie. “It’s okay!” Bonnie says to the phone. “Please relax! My neighbor can help us.”

I get a little nervous. So I focus every bit of concentration I have left on every word Bonnie is about to say. She holds her phone against her chest and takes a sharp breath.

“What was the name of that comedian?” she says. “The one who died. Recently.” She snaps her fingers a few times. “Female. Blonde. Big! Died on the table. During throat surgery, of course. Her name’s on the tip of my tongue!”

First off, I have no idea how throat surgery is an obvious cause of death. Second, Bonnie could give me all the clues in the world, and I still would never know who she’s talking about. We’re two generations apart. Our versions of celebrity guessing games don’t exactly share the same answers. But still, I owe her a guess — even if it’s uneducated. The only clues I remember are ‘blonde’ and ‘big’.

“Amy Schumer?” I shrug my shoulders. Knowing Amy Schumer is very much alive. 

“Amy Shoooster?” she repeats. “Nooo, come on!” She flicks her wrist. Swatting away my uneducated guess like it’s a mosquito. I scratch my head and go over her clues again.

“Um...I don’t know.”

“Really!?” Bonnie threw her arms in the air. “Come on! She was a comedian! The BIGGEST, most FAMOUS of them all! You’re telling me you don’t know!?”

Normally, I’m pretty patient with Bonnie. She rings my doorbell all the time to ask me for help with things. Like texting photos. Sending emails. Resetting passwords. Getting a second opinion on her new cut and color. Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m happy to help her with all of those things. But this was different. This time, I thought Bonnie was in life-threatening danger. Instead, she was having a brain fart.

“Come on!” says Bonnie. “This JUST happened!” 

One more time, I comb through the clues in my mind. Coming up empty. “Sorry, Bonnie. I don’t know.”

She lets out a deep sigh and says, “Well, thanks anyway.” Bonnie closes her door, but before it shuts all the way, she shouts into her phone. “He had no idea! You believe that!?” I close my door and go back to my desk. Laughing quietly to myself.

“Is she talking about Betty White!?” my roommate says from behind the bathroom door. Eavesdropping from the toilet.

“Don’t think so,” I say. “Betty White died of old age…I think…not throat surgery.”

“True.”

I sit back at my desk and go to Google. I search “Comedian. Blonde. Female. Died. Throat surgery.” Right away, seven-hundred-twenty-three-million search results pop up. Every link says the same thing. Making me feel like an idiot. Because now I know Bonnie is talking about Joan Rivers. And I can’t believe I didn’t remember Joan Rivers died that way. But, then again, Bonnie said that it JUST happened. Meaning 2014. I’m not sure when you’re reading this story right now, but it takes place in 2022.

My doorbell rings another three times.

“You are going to KICK yourself!” Bonnie says with a smile stretched from ear to ear.

“Uh oh,” I say. “Who is it?”

“Joan. Rivers!” Bonnie raises her eyebrows. Waiting for me to kick myself.

“Wow.” I slap my forehead lightly. “I should have known.”

“Yes. You. Should. Have!” Bonnie wags her finger at me like I’m a puppy that peed on her rug. “You believe that!? One minute you’re just getting a little work done. The next, you’re dead. Boom! Just like that.” Bonnie stops herself. Her intense eye contact softens and her focus floats away to an entirely different thought. A thought that, by the look of her expressionless face, she wants to put into the universe, but second guesses. “Anyway,” Bonnie says. Coming back to Earth. Smiling at me. “I just thought you should know that.”