“I can’t remember the last time I had Twizzlers,” I say, smiling slowly. Gavin wiggles the bag at me, but when I reach for a piece, he tugs it back.
“You promise you’ll share something with me this time?” My eyes widen at the memory of him offering me candy when we watched that first movie, and I never shared my popcorn with him. I shared everything else that summer instead.
“I don’t think I should accept candy from a stranger after all,” I say, reminding him of my lines—sort of.
“I’ll share mine if you share yours.” There’s every dirty suggestion underlying his comment, and I smirk before Gavin laughs. “Okay, just take the bag. I’ve got to get backstage.”
“What were you really doing up here?” I wonder, still confused.
“Making sure my select customer arrived.” He winks at me. “Thanks for coming. Enjoy the show.” Leaning forward, he surprises me with a quick kiss to my cheek before stepping back and turning for the theater.
Here’s your chance to run, my brain teases, but another part of me is very curious about Gavin’s film, so I enter the theater myself and take a seat in the middle.
I can’t remember the last time I went out to see a movie, nor can I remember the last time I went anywhere alone. I don’t begrudge that Gee and I do a lot together. I do most things with him because I want to be involved in his life and keep a constant check on him. Through Patrick’s death and my decision to move, Gee turned a bit rebellious, and I don’t blame him. Our house wasn’t the same without Patrick, plus the memories of him sick in our bedroom were too much for me most nights. We quickly lost Leo after we moved here as well. There were a lot of transitions too close together.
As the lights dim and Gavin’s film is introduced, I push away memories of sad times and concentrate on the production, nibbling at red licorice throughout the showing.
It’s the story of a young man’s journey through his budding baseball career with interviews interspersed. Gavin makes appearances as the older guy on the team, offering support to the younger teammate. There’s even coverage of Gavin’s accident. He’d caught a ball near first base, but as he steps near the bag, the runner plows into him. In the tangle, the opposing team member steps on Gavin’s wrist as he goes down for the base. The slowed-down video shows Gavin’s wrist snapping in an unnatural direction. The following scenes cover Gavin’s removal from the game and a highlight of him with a cast on his arm.
In the interview that follows, Gavin emphasizes. “In the blink of an eye, all can be lost.” He blows out a breath on the screen. “You’ve got to keep an open mind. This could all be over at any time.” The camera pans back on the highlights of Gavin’s career. Awards. Articles in frames. Pictures of him with his teammates.
The film continues, covering more of the upcoming star’s successes, but I’m lost in my own thoughts. Gavin and I each had a dream, and in minutes, that dream was gone—not lost, just over. I tried to tell myself there was a bigger plan. I had my fifteen minutes of fame in my own right, and now I was moving forward, onward, for whatever reason.
Could I have gone back to dancing? Seeing Gavin has me questioning some decisions, but the bottom line is I made my choices, and I’ve lived with them.
Take 9
Scene: State Theatre
[Gavin]
As the production ends, I hold my breath for the applause or the boos, I suppose. I’m hidden on the side of the stage, as a moderator will introduce me in a minute. In the blink of an eye, my family is standing, offering an ovation I don’t exactly deserve, but my chest swells with pride and love. I’ve been such a poor son and a shitty brother, but Ethan is at the front of the mix, clapping like a fool. Even my dad has a stunned expression on his face, not a look of disapproval but something different, something like astonishment. My mother simply beams.
After my family, my sight seeks Britton, who stands as well. She’s looking back at me on the edge of the stage. I can’t take my eyes off her. She swipes at the corner of her eye, and I’m not certain how to read the motion. Is she crying? Does she hate it?
Please let them be tears of joy.
“That’s my brother,” Ethan cries out, pride in his overly loud voice.
“Chill, E,” I mutter though he can’t hear me, and the moderator welcomes me to the center stage. In case members of the audience don’t immediately have any questions, he asks something first.
“How did you get involved in this project?”
“When I broke my wrist, I was already part of the film. The director wanted to add the additional angle of my injury and my age to show what can happen at any time. A career in sports can be over like that.” I snap my finger. “But let me add, I’m not that old.”
A few chuckles smatter through the theater. Surprisingly, some super athletes are making it to their mid-thirties and almost forty in baseball. Same in football, an equally demanding sport.
“It’s noted in the credits that you were a consulting director and a producer. Could you tell us more about that?”
“I’ve always been driven. Do well in school. Do better in baseball. I couldn’t just sit back and let the injury beat me, although some would say I did.” I find my dad in the audience. “The project on Brant had already begun, and I wanted to be more involved. I felt like my age and experience gave me intuition and perspective on what to follow, what to ask, and how to watch Brant in his personal and professional life. The director, Joe Scanlon, took my advice and added me as a consultant because of all I offered. As for the producer, well, money talks.” I huff a laugh. “I believed in the film and wanted to see it released.”
The moderator nods.
“And did you always want to be in filmmaking?”
“The honest truth is, I hadn’t ever considered it. I had a cameo role in a movie about a baseball player on the outs with his team, but other than that, I’m not an actor. However, Joe thought I had charisma before the camera and smarts behind it. I really enjoyed the process, and I’m not opposed to doing it again.”
“Interesting. Is that a hint of more to come?”
“As a matter of fact, yes. The director and co-producer, Joe Scanlon, and I will be working together on another project starting next spring. In fact, we’re starting our own production company.”
The moderator’s eyes widen, and I find Britton in the audience. Her blank expression does something to me. My insides flip and not in a good way.
“We’ll be producing a film titled Under The Same Sky and following a young immigrant farmworker through the trials of seasonal farming in this country. We’ll follow our subject across the United States, working the various crops prevalent to the regions.”
Juan Sanchez is our guy, and at seventeen, he’s been open to us documenting his journey to finish high school and earn money for college as he works his way across the country. He doesn’t know yet that we’ll be giving him a scholarship for his efforts.
“Will you include cherry-picking?” The moderator is a local, and his excitement at the possibility shows.
“As Michigan is the number one producer of tart cherries, we will include the process in our filming. Our crew was here earlier in July to scope out the area, but I couldn’t make it.” I look at my parents again, so they know I didn’t blow through town like I once did and ignore them. Mum coughs, but it’s not a clear-your-throat kind of cough but a loud barking noise, and my brows pinch. Dad wraps an arm around her, but she shakes her head, dismissing his concern and lifting her head to look at me.