by Leslie Pike
“Cut!”
The crowd erupts in applause, for the stuntman, Finn and Special Effects.
I hear Finn’s bike slowdown, and make the turn. He’s coming back.
Jinx comes on the radio.
“Hey man, I only heard five loads go off. Keep everyone back. The set is still hot.”
The next fifteen seconds go fast. Finn pulls his bike up to the warehouse doors. The motorcycle drowns out the radio’s warning. He gets off, and gives me a thumbs-up. But he looks away. He reaches in his pocket and brings out his cell. He’s going to take a fucking selfie, with the blown up warehouse in the background. He takes two steps backward, through the doors.
Jinx is on the radio yelling “Hot set! We’ve got a hot set!” I’m screaming at Finn to get the hell out of there. He looks up.
BOOM!!!!
The charge goes off. It’s the one closest to the doors.
Everything’s in slow motion now. Fireball, debris and a huge piece of a ceiling beam, falling. The concussion from the blast blows the motorcycle twenty feet away. I start running toward Finn. He’s down. The firemen are moving in, but I’m closer. Fuck, it’s bad.
As the smoke starts to clear, I see a massive piece of beam has landed on top of Finn’s chest. I reach him. The left side of his hair and neck are flash burned, and he’s unconscious. I grab the end of the beam, and lift with all my might, trying to get the crushing beam off him.
The other stuntmen are almost to me.
“Get him out!” I yell.
The firemen arrive, and they carefully work to move him away from the beam. One fireman is spraying the small fire that remains.
Parker comes to my side and tries to help me with the heavy load. My dad runs up, and wraps his hands around the beam.
As we attempt to put it down, the greatest pain I’ve ever felt shoots through my spine. It’s so excruciating I can’t even let go.
I scream.
“Fuck!!!”
With one hand, I grab my father’s arm. And then everything goes black.
I come to, as I’m being wheeled down a corridor. I feel spacey, as if I’m drugged. But I’m acutely aware of the pain. It’s unrelenting, and unforgiving. Grim. Every turn of the wheels and every hesitation sends stabbing torturous pain throughout my entire body. Do I feel stoned because of pain medication? And if so, why the fuck don’t they give me something stronger?
I see my dad, and Melanie, walking beside whatever I’m lying on. I guess I’m in the hospital.
Lights, the smell, the beeping sound of heart monitors. There’s an I.V. bag attached to my arm. I must be in the hospital. Fuck.
“It’s alright son. You’re going to be fine. You hurt your back, lifting that beam.”
It registers with me, and it all comes back. Finn in front of the doors, and the explosion. The beam flying through the air. Me running to help him. The pain. Fuck.
I vaguely remember the paramedics on set, asking me if I had any medication allergies. And I remember being lifted to a gurney. Fuck.
I want to speak, but I just can’t form the words. My eyes close, and I fade away.
The next time I come to, I’m in the emergency room. My clothes are being cut off, by a male nurse. Two other nurses are beside my bed, doing whatever it is they have to do.
“I need some fucking pain medication.”
The tall thin one turns to me and looks me straight in the eyes. “Mr. French, you’re on pain meds. We just hooked you up to a morphine drip.”
“Well it doesn’t work. Give me something else.”
But the word “else” comes out like “elf.” What the hell?
“It’ll just take a little time to get ahead of the pain. You can click this button, when you need more.”
She lifts my hand to the handheld device, and shows me how to use it.
I click it about five times.
“It will only give you a prescribed amount every four hours. It won’t dispense before that.”
“I’m in horrible pain!”
The other nurse speaks up.
“We understand that, Mr. French. We’re trying to help you.
Sometimes pain is difficult to control. But just give it another twenty minutes. It’ll be more manageable.”
“I hear you’re a stuntman,” long tall Sally says, attempting to change the subject.
“Yezz.”
That sounded weird. And why in the hell is there a racetrack in the emergency room?
“Do you see that racetrack, Dad?”
My dad just pats my hand. “Yeah, I see it. No big deal.” Maybe I’ll go for a drive. Instead, I sail away again.
When I wake up, or come to, or whatever the hell I’m attempting to do, I’m in a private room in the hospital. My dad and Melanie are sitting there, talking to a doctor. When they see my eyes open, the doctor comes to the side of my bed. He’s a short, frail looking little guy. Reminds me of Barney Fife on The Andy Griffith Show from the sixties. He has that same air of self-importance.
“I’m Doctor Bennett, Mr. French. How are you feeling?”
My dad answers for me, when he sees I’m not up to putting a sentence together.
“The morphine is really affecting his thought process.”
“I was hit by a Mack truck. The pain is bad. And I’m used to pain.”
Am I remembering that right? Maybe it was a car that hit me.
“Then you can handle it. Aren’t stuntmen impervious to pain?” Dr. Bennett says, with a cocky look on his face.
I see my father get that look. That “you’re a dick” look, I’ve seen a hundred times before. Anytime someone, usually a man who wouldn’t be cut out for our job, speaks down to us.
Sometimes that kind of man has issues. I’m being nice right now. It makes me want to start laughing, but that hurts. If I wasn’t hurting so much right now, I’d tell Barney Fife to fuck off. Maybe I’ll beat the crap out of him tomorrow.
“Just tell me what’s wrong with me.”
“We’ll have to run some tests. You’ll be having a CT scan, and an MRI later today. Until I see the results, I’m just giving an educated guess.”
“Well do that then,” my dad says.
“I’m pretty sure he has a herniated disc.”
Then he turns to me.
“It’s most likely pinching a nerve in your lumbar, where your back bears the most torque.
Tomorrow I’ll perform a more thorough exam. I’ll be able to tell you more then. We’re going to let you rest now.”
I don’t want to let on, put mostly what I heard was, “churg mom fakly very Ted.”
Melanie comes to my side, and makes sure my water’s within reach.
“Want some water, honey?
“Bliss.”
“We’ve already called her. She’s on her way.” Good.
I want to stop thinking. I click my morphine drip, over and over, and shut out the world.
BLISS
I walk off the plane, and into the La Guardia terminal. The windows reveal it’s another cold day in New York.
It’s supposed to be 37 degrees here today.
“California Dreamin,” is playing in my mind.
I’m drunk with excitement, by the very thought of the coming HBO meeting. And I’m glad I have the rest of the day to relax, and reread my script. If they’re considering a series, I better have some intelligent thoughts about how that could work. I don’t want them to buy my story, then hand it off to be reworked by another writer. I’ve got to think about my compelling reasons for that not to happen. I know what they are, now all I have to do is convince them.
Lost in my thoughts, I don’t realize where I’m walking. I just followed the crowd out of the airplane. I look up, to thankfully see the baggage claim sign directing me forward. La Guardia is always a long walk to get your bags. I could have done a carry-on, but of course I brought too many clothes.
I think about all the times I’ve heard a man bitching about that, to me or to th
e women I’ve known.
To the man, they all have something to say about it as if my extra suitcase ruins their trip.
I want to yell, “Shut the hell up! I’ll roll the fucking suitcase if it’s too much for you.” What exactly are they pissed off about?
But today, I’m too happy to dwell on incidentals. Everything is so perfect in my life. Steven is here now. I mean in my life. He arrived. Everything from here on in I can handle because he stands with me.
I realize I haven’t turned my cell back on. That’s funny, because rarely does that happen. It shows just how deep I am in my thoughts. I dig into my purse as I walk to the baggage claim. I’m almost there.
Eureka. I find my phone, and power it on. That’s odd. I’ve got twelve voicemail messages. My stomach does a flip. I don’t see Steven’s name among them. Ben, Renee, Nicki, Jack, Melanie. And then I stop reading, and start listening.
“Listen honey, there’s been an accident on set. He’s going to be fine, but Steven’s been hurt. It’s a back injury. We’re going to the hospital now. Call me,” Ben says.
BEEP
“Bliss, its Renee. I know you’re flying to L.A., but there’s been an accident. Steven and Finn were injured. I wasn’t there, but I’m told they’re both in the hospital. I know very little. I’m on my way there now. Call me.”
BEEP
“Honey its Nicki. Call me, it’s important. Really important.”
BEEP
I’ve already turned myself around. I’m returning to the gate. Shit! My luggage. Fuck it, I’ll have it sent back. Steven. And Finn too. I’m crying.
“Bliss. It’s Melanie. Ben told me he tried to get ahold of you earlier. Call us. We’re at the hospital. St. Joseph’s. Steven sustained a serious back injury, but he’s going to be ok. Where are you? Call.”
BEEP
“It’s Jack. Honey, I don’t know if you’ve been told, but there’s been an accident on set. Steven and Finn are hospitalized. We’re coming back. We’ll see you at the hospital. If we find out anything we’ll call you. I do know he was well enough to be talking, so that’s something. I think Finn sustained a chest or neck injury, but I don’t know the extent of it. We’re praying for our boys. I’m sure it will be ok. Stay strong.”
I’m at the gate. The attendant looks up.
“When’s the next flight to San Francisco?”
“We have one in about an hour.”
“I need a seat.”
The next hour is spent retrieving my luggage, and calling for any bit of information I can get. I talk to Ben, who fills me in. He knows I’m upset, and I can hear my own voice is shaking.
“It’s ok honey. At least I think it’s going to be ok. We’ll know more tomorrow. Where are you?”
“I’m in New York. I had a meeting set up with HBO tomorrow. But that doesn’t matter now. Not in the least.”
“Well we’re here if you want to stay, we can …”
I cut him off right there. I’m coming, Ben. No more discussion about that. What about Finn? Have you heard how he’s doing? What exactly happened?”
“He’s here. I just talked to Renee, who told me Finn’s going to be alright. He has a concussion, and a broken collarbone and a few broken ribs. He was burned on one side of his face I think, or neck maybe. He’s lost some hair to the flash burn too. Other than that, I think he’s doing pretty well. Considering what could’ve happened.”
“Thank God.”
I hear them calling my flight.
“I’ve got to board, Ben. I’ll be there as soon as I land. But that won’t be for hours. Please tell Steven I love him, and I’m coming. Oh, and would you call Renee and Jack, and tell them I got their messages?”
“See you then. I’ll tell him. And we’ll make sure the others are caught up.”
I disconnect, and start to cry again. This is going to be the longest hour of my life.
As I walk through the jet way, to the plane, I’m calling my HBO contact. I’ll have to reschedule my meeting. If they have a problem with that, they can suck it. Don’t give me any crap today.
All the way to San Francisco, I make lists. This has been my therapy of choice my whole life. When I’m nervous, I make lists. When I’m pissed, I make lists. And today, when I’m worried and scared out of my mind, I’m making lists. I’ve got three started.
So far, I’ve charted what Steven will need taken care of while he’s in the hospital. Bills, banking, etc.
Then there’s the ‘Things To Bring’ list. What will he want me to bring him in the hospital. Cell phone, charger, toiletries, slippers, maybe his own pillow. Oh, and definitely his favorite comfy pants and warm top.
The third list is what I’ll need to do to get ready for his move from the cottages back to his place in Laguna Beach. That happens in six weeks. Everything has to be packed up here, and I guess shipped back. And what about the Cobra?
I stop writing. I have no idea what I’ll be doing for him. I don’t know how long he’ll be in the hospital or even if he’ll need any help. I know nothing yet. This is the very definition of an exercise in futility.
And what about Finn? Has anyone called his father? I’ll handle that too. Who else would?
So I think we’ll be fine. I close my eyes, but my thoughts keep me wide awake.
I’ve never been so happy to see the fog and rain before. Luckily it didn’t prevent us from landing. I made it to my car in just twenty five minutes, baggage claim and all. As I drive out of the airport, I’m calling Ben.
Melanie answers. “Bliss. Are you here?”
“Melanie. Yes. I just got to San Francisco. I’m driving to the hospital now. How’s Steven?”
“He’s completely out of it. That morphine drip they have him on is letting him sleep.”
“Morphine?”
“He was in horrible pain, poor guy. But it made him hallucinate a lot. He didn’t like that. I’m worried …” I lose the connection.
“Fuck!”
What was she going to say? Do they know more? I step on the gas.
St. Clare’s is a midsized, fairly new facility. But from what I’ve read, it’s a state of the art hospital. There’s lots and lots of money in this area, and the people who have it expect to be well cared for when needed. I’m glad to know that Steven will have that kind of care.
I go over different scenarios in my mind. How bad is it going to be?
I’ll find out soon. I’m here.
“Room 202,” The nurse says.
The room is only a few doors away. I knock on the closed door, but don’t wait for an answer. I walk in.
Ben and Melanie are sitting in chairs, pulled up to the bed. Steven is sleeping, and just the sight of him makes me want to cry.
I’m controlling myself. He’s hooked up to two IV’s. One I suppose is the morphine, and I have no idea what’s in the other bag. Other than that, he looks just fine.
“Bliss!” whispers Ben.
He rises, and we come together for a hug. I touch Melanie’s shoulder, and she grasps my hand.
“Any news?” I say.
“No. They’ll be nothing till morning. He had his MRI and CT. But the doctor won’t see the results till tomorrow.”
“You two look tired.”
“We are. But that’s fine. Don’t worry about us,” Melanie says.
I dig in my purse.
“I’m going to give you Steven’s house key. You two can spend the night there.”
I hand the key to Melanie.
“Good idea. Thanks,” she says.
“I’m going to spend the night here.”
“Oh no, honey. There’s just the couch.”
“I’m staying.”
Both of them know not to question me further.
And so I do. When Ben and Melanie leave for the night, I get my luggage from the car, put on my pajamas, and curl up on the thing they call a couch. Doesn’t matter. He’s next to me now.
I call Carl. Thank God Finn talked him into getting
a cellphone last year. He knew about the accident, and has already made his way here. He’s in Finn’s room right now. It’s late, and he’s still there.
“How is he really, Carl?”
“He looks like hell, but he’s going to be fine. They’re watching the concussion effects, but other than that, they told us he would just need time to heal. Good thing he was finished with the film.”
“Give him my love. I’ll stop by his room tomorrow. I don’t want to leave Steven tonight.”
“Of course.”
“You’re welcome to stay at my place, Carl. I’ve got everything you could need there. We could send one of the production cars for your things.”
“Oh no. Thanks honey, I’m staying in Finn’s room at the hotel. Albie said I could stay there as long as I need to.”
“Ok. But if Finn needs care when he gets released, you can both stay at my cottage. I’ll be with Steven.”
“You’ve always been such a good girl, Bliss. Mary’s smiling.”
I can hear him start crying. It’s been a long day for him.
“She’s watching over your boy. Remember that, Carl.”
After we disconnect, I sit still for a minute, looking at Steven. I hope Mary’s watching over my boy too. I say a little prayer asking her to protect two men with the power of a mother’s love.
SHIT!!!
I’m startled awake, by the sound of Steven’s voice. His angry, pain filled voice.
Two nurses are trying to sit him up. He’s in such intense pain, he’s resisting their attempts.
“Stop! This isn’t working.”
“Try to relax Mr. French. You’re making it worse!”
“You relax,” he says.
He spots me standing and staring. But he doesn’t say anything to me.
“Give me some fucking pain medication!”
“We’re transitioning you to one now. You’re last morphine dose is still in your system. Another hour, and we’ll be able to administer the new medication.”
“I saw the doctor in the hall. He should be here shortly.”
Just as she says this, the doctor walks in.
“Good morning Mr. French.”
He doesn’t wait for an answer, but looks to me instead, with a stupid smirk on his face.
“Are you Mrs. French?”
