Close to the Broken Hearted Read Free Page A

ideas, “I think we’ve done as much as we’re doin’ with the foil. Now what?”
    â€œNow I unhook the cable from your TV and attach the foil antenna with these alligator clips,” he said.
    â€œCan I ask where you got this idea?”
    He shrugged. “While you was at Disney World I started an inventor’s notebook. Turns out I’m pretty smart. I got lots of great ideas. They’re probably worth a million dollars.”
    I glanced around the room. My mother was going to have a conniption when she saw what we’d done to it, and especially when she found out we’d used up two brand-new rolls of her aluminum foil. “Probably,” I said. “You give off a glow of genius, that’s for certain.”
    The light falling in through the window above the sofa was starting to turn purple and orange, which meant it was getting late. This further meant my mother would probably be home soon—unless she wound up working late like she sometimes did. I took another look at Dewey’s tinfoil snake and hoped this was going to be a late night for her.
    Dewey hooked up the alligator clips to the screws attached to the electronic box where the Cable Vision wire normally attached to the television. “That should do it,” he said.
    â€œSo now what?”
    â€œNow we turn on the TV and enjoy havin’ all the stations folks get with satellite dishes without payin’ a cent. All it cost us was the price of four rolls of aluminum foil.”
    â€œIt didn’t cost us nothin’,” I reminded him. “We stole the foil from our moms, remember?”
    â€œEven better,” he said, rubbing his hands together. He pulled the button on the television that turned the set on. For a minute the screen stayed dark, then it slowly grew into a picture of white static.
    â€œWorks well,” I said sarcastically. I snuck another glance out the window. The weather had cleared up considerably from this morning. It had been four days since we’d gotten back from Disney World, and every day since we’d returned had been full of pouring rain, including the beginning of this one. This afternoon, though, the sun had finally broken through the clouds and cleaned up the sky.
    Dewey changed the channel to more static. “Somethin’s wrong. We didn’t hook somethin’ up properly.”
    â€œYou know what’s wrong?” I asked. “You’re tryin’ to get satellite TV with aluminum foil.”
    â€œWait, this has to work. I had it all figured out.” He started rapidly switching channels. Then he came to a channel that was clear as Mount Bell on a brisk autumn morning, as my mother would say. “Look!” he said, nearly screaming it. “It works! Look how clear it is!”
    I had to admit it was clear.
    â€œTold you it would work!” He went around the dial the entire way and found three more channels we could get. All tremendously clear. This seemed to satisfy him immensely.
    â€œSo you’re happy with your invention?” I asked.
    â€œI’ll say.”
    I looked at him and blinked. “I’m a little confused.”
    â€œAbout what?”
    â€œWho exactly you’ll be marketin’ this to.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œI mean, is this for folk who can’t afford Cable Vision but happen to have a surplus of aluminum foil and one or two favorite channels they simply cannot live without?” I once again looked at the foil running along the edge of the floor everywhere. “Or will you try and make it some sort of home décor product? Not to mention the fact that you can’t really charge more than the price of four rolls of aluminum foil for it or people will just go out and buy their own and set everythin’ up for themselves.”
    Dewey frowned, perplexed by my complex questions. “It’s a start, okay? I have many inventions. I’ve already filled