There was nowhere else she would be able to learn technical skills like this. If she could do even a fraction of what Madigan and Theo could, it would really make her stand out from all the other new film school grads when she applied for a job. The idea of it was exhilarating, but actually doing it would be terrifying.
“Think about it,” he said. “Just let me know soon, okay? If you want to do it, you’ll have some long hours ahead with Madigan and Theo.”
…
“You’ve got mail,” Madigan said when April got back from her shower after the run.
She was so preoccupied about the Sorcerer that it took her a second to notice the stack of packages and envelopes on the picnic table. The largest box was hers. It was from her mom, which meant it was her gala dress.
On every surface of the box, her mother had written, Do not open! Read note first! There was an envelope taped to the top, and she used the blade of Madigan’s pocketknife to cut it open. Inside were a notecard and several pictures.
April, I know you’re going to want to see the dress as soon as you get it, but if you’re still living in a tent, you should probably leave this sealed up until you get to Sacramento. The dress and the heels are vintage, so take good care of them! Love, Mom
The dress in the pictures—strapless, full-length, empire-waist, apricot in color with a layer of fine silver netting on top—was the one dress in her mother’s collection that April had never been allowed to borrow. It was a couture dress, a gift from the designer himself for her mother to wear at a ball following a royal London air show held for Prince Philip’s birthday.
In the first picture from that ball, her exquisitely beautiful mother leaned against April’s tall, handsome father, with the dress flowing around her like mercury. Tears came to April’s eyes. It was that night in London her father had proposed to her mother.
The other photos were of the dress hanging on the closet door, showing it from different angles. April handed the photo of her parents to Madigan.
“She’s your mom?” he asked.
“Yep.”
“You look exactly like her.”
“She was just a little older than me when that was taken.”
Madigan handed the photo back. April flipped through the rest of her mail, which was all from UCLA’s accounts department. Like she needed a reminder of how little she was making here compared to what she owed.
It was midmorning, which meant most of the people in the campground were off exploring the park. She took a deep breath, smelling sun-warmed pine trees and the juicy orange Madigan was peeling.
He split the orange in two and handed half to her. She pulled a segment off and took a bite.
“Danny wants me to film on the Sorcerer,” she said.
“I know,” he said. “He asked me about it last night.”
“What do you think?”
Madigan’s cornflower-blue eyes lingered on hers. “I think it would be great to have you up there.”
“Do you think I could be ready in time?”
“Sure. All that’s different is that you’re filming from a harness instead of on the ground.”
“I know it’s not that simple.”
“Okay, so you have to get to your filming spot and then back up.”
“Yeah, on a sheer cliff face.”
He popped an orange segment into his mouth and thought for a minute. “If you can get past the sheer cliff part, think of all the other places you’ll be able to shoot. Rainforest canopies, skyscrapers, canyons, you name it. And it’s a pretty rare skill to have, you know.”
“I know. But…”
“But what?” he asked.
She pulled a white string off the edge of her orange. There were lots of buts. She wasn’t going to discuss the main one with him, so she named one of her lesser worries.
“What if I hurt someone because I don’t know what I’m doing?” she asked. “I could drop a microphone on someone’s head. Or I could get in Josh’s way and make him fall.”
“You are such a worrier.” He gave her a playful shake. “Although that’s a valid concern. We have everything on tethers up there, and we rehearse ahead of time.”
She finished her orange and poured water over her hands to rinse off the stickiness. Yes, she was a worrier. A chronic what if–er. In this, she had always been so unlike her daredevil dad.
“And something else to factor in—we’ve got a bunch of projects lined up starting next winter, and we will definitely be doing some hiring for cinematographers. I don’t think Danny would be quite so generous in committing to all the learning time unless he were impressed with what he’s seen so far and is thinking that you knowing these skills might benefit the company on more than just a temporary internship.”
“Wow, really?”
“Just speculation on my part, of course. But if you decide to do it, I know you’ll be fine,” he said. “You’re solid with the camera, you’re athletic, you’re not afraid of heights. All you have to do is learn to move on the ropes.”
Exactly how her dad would have put it. Take some feat that most people would never dream of doing and make it sound as easy as one-two-three. Her mom would have the opposite opinion. She would say it was too soon, that it could lead to flashbacks.
What would happen if she had some sort of episode while filming? Would she be putting the crew in danger? Herself?
But rock climbing was different than an airplane crashing. There’s no way a human peacefully climbing a beautiful cliff could compare to metal colliding into cement at five hundred miles per hour.
She’d had a reaction to a bungee-jumping scene in one of the films they screened in her digital effects class, though, breaking out in a massive sweat and having to escape to the bathroom to compose herself. If it had been on an IMAX screen, she might have passed out. But it hadn’t been and she didn’t.
No. Her episodes weren’t like the shocking war veteran rampages that made the news. They were little blips triggered by things that reminded her of how she felt just before the crash: the panic, horror, and gridlock of knowing what was about to happen before everyone else figured it out. Her episodes were ten-second mini blackouts, or confusion about what was real. The blackout in the crosswalk—she had been drinking, and surely the alcohol had been a contributing factor. And that had happened less than six months after the crash. Now, it had been almost three years.
It wasn’t every day a filmmaker like Danny Rappaport offered to let an intern tag along on something so big and budget the time for his staff to teach her. Furthermore, she wanted to join the team. Even though she’d always felt cowardly compared to her dad, the tricks that she knew how do in an airplane would give most people nightmares. Deep down, she knew she had a tolerance for this sort of thing, and this was her chance to use it.
That, combined with what Madigan said about upcoming job openings at Walkabout? Yes. No matter how scary it was, she was going to film on the Sorcerer.
Chapter Twelve
With the Code for Verity climb still on hold for rockfall, Danny had insisted that she do an interview with Josh today. During one of her jogs last week, she’d found a much better location for filming. She’d triple-checked her batteries and had everything staged in the van. Even if she only got one usable answer, she’d be doing better than last time, and with Josh’s continued normalcy, she trusted he would keep his word about letting her coach him.
While she wasn’t as nervous about the interview, she was nervous about being alone with Josh. She was hyperaware of this fact as she sat at the picnic table, waiting for him to step out of the forest.
Today Josh wore a backpack, and when he got to the campsite, he upended it on the picnic table. It was shirts. A whole pile of them. T-shirts, polos, button-ups, thermals, dry-fit shirts. Quite a variety for someone who lived in a truck.
“I’m not going back this time,” he said. “Choice is all yours.”
Her heart beat faster. Was he being hostile or was he ju
st joking around?
He ran his hand through his already tousled hair and smiled sheepishly. Joking, thank goodness. Her heart lifted. He sat down across from her at the picnic table, just like at the first dinner. She dug through the pile.
“I hope there’s something acceptable in there,” he said.
“We’ll see.”
She held up an obnoxious striped polo. “This is perfect.”
“That one was a joke.”
“It’s a great brand,” she said. “It’ll show our viewers that you can still be fashionable, even if you live in a truck.”
It was from an Italian designer. A brand she was surprised to find among Josh’s things, even if it was a tad garish.
“So, really, which will it be?” he asked.
For selfish reasons, she was tempted to assign him the thin white undershirt but instead handed him a simple cotton plaid with retro snap buttons. It was the same one he’d worn to the Ahwahnee with Vera a few days ago. He pulled it on over the light blue T-shirt he was already wearing and stuffed the others into his pack. She stored his pack in her tent so he wouldn’t have to go back to his truck.
When they left camp this time, he followed her, and he offered to carry the tripod and one of the bags. She smiled to herself, silently celebrating these small victories.
The new interview location was a long and narrow meadow surrounded on three sides by stately pine trees. It was an absolutely perfect spot for filming. The trees would hide Josh from the road, while the open end of the meadow would give a spectacular view of the valley. There was even a grove of majestic, white-barked aspens in the near distance, to give perspective to the background.
April positioned a camp stool for Josh at the head of the meadow. He fidgeted with the hem of his shorts as she assembled the tripod and locked the camera onto it.
“I hope you’re not nervous,” she said. “This isn’t the first time you’ve done this, remember?”
He smiled sheepishly. “I suppose you want me to relax and shake out my hands and all that.”
“You’re fine like you are,” she said. “Just turn your body so you’re at more of an angle to the camera.”
He turned in the wrong direction, and then angled too far in the right direction.
“Here, like this,” April said. She gripped his shoulders and twisted him into position.
His shoulders were rock hard beneath the soft fabric. She let go and stepped back to the camera, embarrassed with the realization that she’d just manhandled him like he was a second grader on school portrait day.
Her palms still burned with the sensation of his shoulders as she rattled off the basics of on-camera interviews: Never look at the lens. Repeat the question in your answer. Be relaxed. Talk like you’re hanging out with your buddies. Try not to scratch your face. Be open. Share things about yourself beyond what is asked.
“Okay, are you ready?” she asked.
“I think so.”
The chill and stubbornness that had been plastered across his face during the last interview was completely gone. Now, he almost looked scared.
She checked the camera settings one more time and started recording. He’d taped the mic on just right this time. “We’ll do a few test questions first while I play with the sound.”
“Okay,” he said.
She ducked behind the camera. “What’s your favorite food?”
“Pasta.”
“Okay. More.”
“Like what?”
“Get creative. This is for practice. Lie if you have to.”
“My favorite food is pasta, but it has to be homemade. Tomato sauce is best, but only if it’s made with fresh basil and really good olive oil. The pasta should be hand cut and made the same day. Oh, and some people would disagree with me, but fresh Asiago from local goats is a thousand times better than anything imported from Europe.”
April watched the spikes on the microphone data and adjusted the bass intake. “That was perfect, and good job repeating the question,” she said. “Did you make that up?”
“I thought you said it didn’t matter.”
“It doesn’t. I’m just curious. You’re making me hungry.”
“All true.”
No wonder he skipped so many meals with the crew. He was probably cooking up plein air gourmet at his truck while they ate tuna mac. She settled into her place on the stool, just to the left of the lens. “Okay, from now on it has to be all truth.”
“You got it.”
She hadn’t made a list of interview questions, but she had a better concept of the project now and what kinds of content Danny was going to need.
“Tell me about the first time you came here to Yosemite,” she said.
“The first time I came to Yosemite, it was spring break of my freshman year. In high school. Obviously. I’ve never been to college.”
“Louder,” April said. “And more confident. You’re talking about yourself. You’re the expert.”
“The first time I came to Yosemite, it was spring break of my freshman year in high school. Being from Vegas, I wasn’t used to this kind of cold.”
April nodded in encouragement.
“The guy I came with was older,” Josh continued. “I bet he didn’t want to hang out with a kid like me, but it worked out pretty well. I needed someone to drive, and he needed someone to lead the hard stuff.”
“Good!” April said. “See, you can do this! That was a perfect little story.”
He ruffled his fingers through his hair, which she was glad he had waited to do until he was done answering the question.
“Your last answer, it was a good length,” she said. “Just don’t go too much longer than that. We want to have nice, concise sound bites.”
He nodded.
“What did you think when you drove into the valley for the first time?” she asked.
“I knew it would be big, but when I got here, I was blown away.”
He looked at the lens. April groaned silently. She pointed to her eyes until he got the hint and looked at her. She made a rolling motion with her hand for him to continue, which he did, but not before another nervous glance at the camera.
“Me. Look at me,” she said.
“I can’t help it. It’s staring at me.”
“I’m staring at you, too. Look at me.”
“You have nice eyes. The camera, it’s like a Cyclops.”
“It’s not a monster,” she said, laughing along with him. “Try that answer again. And don’t forget to repeat the question.”
“The first time I saw the valley, I couldn’t believe it. Especially El Cap. I’d seen pictures, but to be there in person—”
He glanced at the lens.
“No! Eyes on me!” she said.
“…in person it was so enormous. My first thought was that there was no way anyone had ever climbed it.”
His eyes slid toward the lens again.
“Don’t look at the camera.”
He sighed and rocked back on the stool. “I’m sorry, can we just pause this for a minute?”
She stopped the camera.
“I get really nervous,” he said. Indeed, his eyes were large and worried. Very endearing.
“You do fine with the camera when you’re climbing,” she said.
“I pretend it’s not there.”
“You can do the same thing here.”
“Doesn’t work that way. The mind space is totally different.”
Poor guy. “I know something that will help,” she said.
She ducked into the woods and snapped a branch off a small tree, which she balanced over the lens. It was a trick that had worked well at Kids Are Wee, using blankets or stuffed animals.
“How’s that?” she asked.
“Better,” he said.
She ducked behind the camera to make sure there weren’t any leaves in front of the lens. “Okay, back to the question.”
“How did I put it before?” he asked. “That was go
od. Can you rewind and tell me what I said?”
“Too much work. Picture the moment and describe it. And don’t forget to include the question.”
He closed his eyes briefly before speaking. “When I drove into the valley for the first time, I couldn’t believe it was real. I’d seen pictures, and I knew it was big, but to be on the valley floor and looking at three thousand vertical feet of El Cap—the enormity of it…it’s unimaginable to think of someone climbing it. I’ve climbed it dozens of times now, but when I sit in the meadow and look up at it, it seems like it was all in my imagination.”
She gave him a thumbs-up. Maybe Danny would give her a raise if she came back with a few more sound bites like that. “Did you climb El Capitan that first time you came to Yosemite?”
“It took me three trips to Yosemite before I could find a partner who would climb El Cap with me. Even then, I was only seventeen. I had no idea what I was doing. It’s a miracle we made it up alive.”
“Perfect,” April mouthed to him.
He gave another excellent answer to her next question and really got into a groove after that. The problem was, the less she had to focus on his answers, the more she focused on him.
His eye contact with her was also excellent, and her mind kept wandering back to the lake, but an alternate-reality version where Josh was even closer. Close enough to touch. She could practically feel the soft moss beneath her arms and Josh’s sun-warmed, slightly damp skin against her back. They were talking and laughing. His arm was draped over her shoulder, and he was absentmindedly twisting a lock of her hair.
Her breathing sped up even though it was just a daydream.
What is your problem? It was one thing to think the talent was cute but quite another to fantasize. For one, it was delusional for a crew member to think she had a shot with the star, but more importantly, it was unprofessional. Josh Knox was just a rock climber. An attractive and intriguing one, sure, but if she couldn’t handle herself around him, how would she be in the future on bigger films where she’d be interviewing celebrities, certifiable hunks?
Lessons In Gravity Page 10
