“Are you okay?” Rosie asks quietly.
“Uhm…” I rub my hand across my face. “Yeah, nah. It’s Tony. He’s had an accident.” The whole story rushes out, my heart hammering as I spill the limited facts that I know. He was working on a different project, a TV drama that has two stunts in the whole series. The likelihood of him injuring himself was never zero, but they were slim and it still happened.
“That’s awful.” Rosie’s horrified voice echoes my own thoughts. “Jackson, listen to me. He’s still fighting, yeah? I’m sure he’ll be okay. Is his wife with him?”
“I don’t know. I think she’s still over in Wellington with Masen.” My voice cracks and I squeeze my eyes shut. “I haven’t spoken to her.”
“Send me her number and I can make sure she’s on her way, what hospi–”
“I love you,” I interrupt her as she makes plans to look after a family that she’s never met.
“I love you too, baby.”
I sit in silence for a second, just listening to her breathing over the phone, until a knock on the door interrupts my thoughts.
“Just a minute,” I shout hoarsely. I rub my hand over my eyes before turning back to the phone. “I’m doing the motorcycle stunt today.”
“Oh,” Rosie says quietly. “Are you sure you want to do it?”
I don’t answer. I don’t know how to.
“Listen, Jackson,” she tells me. “You’ve done hundreds of these stunts, and you’ve got a good team, right? That’s what you told me. I trust you, so if you want to do this stunt, then I trust your instincts too.”
I nod, even though she can’t see me. “Yeah.”
“Do whatever you need to do, okay? Just come home to me when you’re finished.”
Another knock sounds, and Eric pokes his head in the door.
“They’re ready for you,” he says with a smile. He doesn’t know Tony, doesn’t know Marky enough to even have heard the story.
There’s this enormous news that’s kicked my world off its axis, but the rest of the crew is just going through business as usual.
“I’ve got to go, pretty girl.” I tell Rosie as I force my leaden feet to move.
“Okay, text me when you can.”
“I will.”
The last time I saw Tony, he was determined to keep doing the job he loves. Taking risks is what he’s done every day of his life. He was confident, good at his job, probably even better than me, and he still got hurt. I do the safe, practiced maneuvers that the stunt guys like Tony have already workshopped to perfection. The risks I take are assessed and prepared. If something happens to me, the shoot would need to shut down while I recover or get recast. I know this, I’ve always known this. A waiver is written into all of mycontracts so I’m aware of the danger I’m putting myself through by agreeing to do my own stunts.
Paralyzed.
Tony woke up yesterday morning as usual, drank his morning coffee and probably texted his son, and now he’s in a coma.
I cross my arms across my body, my feet sinking into the tarmac as if to keep me in one spot, while I attempt to listen to Sam and Shaun.
What would I do if the stunt went wrong? If I jump at the wrong second, or a harness snaps in a freak accident. I’ve always trusted myself, trusted my gut, known that I wouldn’t jeopardize the film by taking on something I can’t accomplish, but never backing down. Always jumping straight into the action with a grin at the thought of playing with danger.
I think of Rosie’s sleepy smile as she wished me luck hours ago, and the sight of her swollen belly where my daughter is growing.
I imagine her climbing out of bed and answering the call that something’s happened, something’s gone wrong, and that our lives have been changed in immeasurable ways.
I see Smudge growing up without a father, having panic attacks every time she trips over her own feet, just in case her life changes just like her dad’s did. Just likemydad’s did.
I rub my beard, trying to ignore the shaking in my hand, my ribs twitching in my side in a way they haven’t in months.
Can I really do this every day? Step out of the door and put my life and my family’s life at risk, just so I can say that I did a cool stunt on a film that probably will be forgotten about in a few years anyway?
