Dressing Mr. Dalton

by Charlotte Byrd

  “If they don’t, I will,” she says. “I don’t want to sit there all by myself.”

  “Okay,” I say, giving her a warm hug. “You stay strong, Lila. It’s going to be okay.”

  40

  Finn

  I arrive on set haggard and exhausted.

  Everyone swarms around me to find out what’s going with Chloe. I explain as best as I can and as quickly as I can. I don’t want to eat into too much of my time away from the hospital on this.

  I’m here to finish a job. I read over the script and refresh the lines in my mind. Memorizing lines is a skill, and it usually doesn’t take me longer than a few read-throughs to get them down.

  But today, my mind is all mush.

  I can’t focus.

  I drink another cup of coffee, but it doesn’t really help.

  “Finn, you ready?” Martha knocks on my door.

  Not really, I say to myself and take my script with me.

  The scene is between me and my father.

  I’m extremely angry at him for abandoning our family when I was younger and moving in with his girlfriend.

  When I was in college, he and my mother reconnected, got married again, and even had another child, but I always felt like he messed up my childhood.

  At the beginning of the scene, I have a long monologue in which I express how I feel about him.

  I keep forgetting my lines and stumbling over words.

  After three or four tries, Martha asks us to take a break.

  “Are you okay, Finn?” she asks.

  “No, not really. My mind is elsewhere. I thought I could do this, but I’m not sure that I can.”

  “Finn, you have to focus,” she says. Yes, that didn’t occur to me before.

  “I’m trying.”

  “You want to run the lines again?”

  I nod.

  Reluctantly, I agree.

  I’m not sure I have much of a choice.

  Every minute that this set continues to stay up is costing the production money that they can’t afford, and the last thing I want to do is come back here again tomorrow or the day after.

  She’s right.

  I need to focus.

  I read the lines again.

  Say them out loud.

  I put the script away and put all of my thoughts into how much I hate my father for what he has done.

  Then…the words come out like clockwork.

  After I get through the monologue, we have a heated exchange in which I put my dad in his place.

  “Do you know how this feels, Dad?” I yell at the top of my lungs. “No, you don’t. You don’t know anything about me. You never even cared to find out. You know what? I don’t care if you and Mom are back together and in love. I don’t care. You weren’t there for me when I needed you most. And it’s not just because of the divorce. It’s more than that. You left, Dad. You just left, and that’s it. I never heard from you for three years, and you lived forty-five minutes away!”

  There are a lot of theories on acting out there, but the one I tend to rely on and use in my daily life is the one that encourages you to use what you know to bring out certain feelings in your character.

  As I drive back to the hospital, I realize that today I didn’t have to dig deep to reach the anger that I was able to express.

  I am angry.

  Very angry over what happened to Chloe. I’m angry at the drunk driver. I’m angry at the whole situation.

  I’m angry at myself.

  I’m angry that I was such an idiot about how I handled our situation.

  That I chose to lie instead of telling the truth.

  And what I’m angriest at is that I lied about something so stupid.

  So inconsequential.

  I see Lila in front of the vending machine getting a bag of potato chips.

  “Lila, hey. I stopped by Whole Foods,” I say, lifting up the heavy bag of groceries. “I didn’t know what you liked, so I got a little bit of everything. A few salads, sandwiches, and a bunch of healthy snacks. So we’re not just eating sugar and crap all day.”

  “Oh my God, you’re a lifesaver,” she says.

  Lila gives me a warm hug.

  “So, how is she?”

  “Um…the same, really. Still in a coma.”

  She rummages through the bag and takes out a lentil and beetroot salad with blue cheese. She doesn’t say anything for a few moments.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask. “Is there anything you’re not telling me?”

  Lila refuses to meet my eyes.

  “Lila, please. The suspense is killing me.” Poor choice of words, of course. I regret it immediately.

  “I talked to my insurance people today, and they’re not going to cover it. I don’t know why I thought they would. And she doesn’t have any. She was going to sign up, but for some reason she never did. She’s usually so reliable. So, I don’t really know how the hell we’re going to pay for all of this. A friend of mine texted me and said that her father stayed at Cedars Sinai overnight once, and it cost $70,000 just for the night. This is going to be her second night here. Plus the surgery.”

  “Lila, please, don’t worry about it.”

  “How can I not worry about it?”

  “I’m going to pay for it. All of it.”

  “What?” She looks up at me.

  “Money doesn’t matter, Lila. I want her to have the best treatment. Whatever they need to do for her to make her better, that’s what we’ll do.”

  “No, I can’t accept your money.” She shakes her head.

  “Well, you’re not the one accepting it. It will be Chloe. And frankly, I don’t really care if she accepts it. She’s in no position to say no. I’ll pay her bill, regardless.”

  Lila starts to cry.

  She throws her arms around my neck, sobbing.

  41

  Finn

  A week passes.

  I come home occasionally to change and shower. I sleep in my own bed twice and only for a few hours.

  Otherwise, I spend all of my time at the hospital.

  Waiting.

  I sit next to Chloe, looking at her bandaged face and her puffy eyes and lips, and I wait.

  Sometimes, I put my hand on hers and feel her pulse.

  Just to make sure that she’s still there.

  I know that she would hate the ugly fluorescent lights in the room.

  I open the curtains as far as they will go and open the windows. Fresh air and sunshine – these are the things that make life worth living.

  I bring her bouquets of flowers and tell her which ones are in each bouquet.

  Almost everyone from the cast and crew comes for a visit and sends a bouquet of flowers or a fruit basket.

  By the end of the week, there’s hardly any counter space left, but flowers and fruit baskets keep coming.

  Then one afternoon, she opens her eyes.

  The sun is shining brightly into the room, filling the space with hope and love.

  It’s almost 2 p.m., and I’ve just gotten back from lunch.

  I find my usual seat, facing her and the window.

  When I get out my phone to check my email, I see her.

  At first, I don’t believe what I’m seeing. Her eyelids flutter a bit, just like they have all these times before.

  It’s a function of the brain working somewhere in the background, the doctors have explained, and it gives people the sense that the person is just about to wake up, but that’s not necessarily true.

  I’ve been tricked by this eye movement before.

  Especially the first couple of days, but something is different about today.

  I keep looking at her.

  Then, slowly but surely, one of her eyelids opens. And, soon after, another.

  “Chloe? Chloe?” I grab her hand.

  She nods her head slightly, then presses her index finger into my hand.

  “Oh my God, Chloe!” I take her hand to my lips.

  I kiss he
r over and over, and big, round tears start to roll down my face.

  “You’re awake,” I whisper.

  Over the next few weeks, Chloe continues a steady recovery.

  I continue to stay with her, and we have a lot of fun together.

  At first, she can’t even sit up in bed, but she can hear everything, so I spend my days reading to her.

  I discover that she doesn’t have too much of an interest in anything serious or disturbing.

  Current events and hard-boiled detective fiction is definitely out, but Emily Brontë and Michael Crichton go over nicely.

  I’ve never read either, and I really enjoy Wuthering Heights, even though it runs a little bit too long for me.

  I do, however, enjoy Crichton immensely. Sphere is my favorite, even though Chloe is partial to Timeline.

  In addition to reading a lot of books (or rather, me reading and her listening), we also spend a lot of time watching Netflix and old movies like Beetlejuice.

  By the time we get to Beetlejuice, Chloe is already sitting up in bed and eating on her own.

  She has some movement in her neck, but her head is still bandaged.

  “That was so funny,” I say, turning off my iPad.

  My stomach aches from laughing so hard.

  “I can’t believe I’ve never seen it before,” she says. “It was hilarious.”

  I look over at her.

  Her face is still puffy, and her eyes are like two little slits, but I love the smile that pushes her bandages apart.

  “My nose hurts,” she says.

  “Oh, no, why?”

  “From laughing,” Chloe explains.

  Her nose got broken, and they had to reset it.

  There’s a big bandage on top of it, with some sort of hard metal thing underneath.

  I can’t lie.

  It doesn’t look pretty.

  “My eyes are actually watering,” she says, wiping away tears from laughter.

  I look at her.

  She doesn’t like me staring at her too much, but I can’t help myself.

  “What? What’s wrong?” she asks.

  “Nothing.”

  “So why are you looking at me like that?”

  “Because I’m just so happy that I can enjoy this moment with you. I sat here for a week when you were in a coma, not knowing if I would ever talk to you again. Or if you would even recognize me again. And now, you’re here, laughing so hard you’re crying. It’s just amazing. You’re amazing.”

  “Don’t say that.” Chloe casts her eyes away.

  I can’t really tell if she’s blushing, but I have my suspicions.

  “Besides, even if I hadn’t recognized it, I’d know you were. You should hear what all the nurses are saying about you behind your back. You’re a rock star.”

  “A movie star,” I correct her.

  She rolls her eyes. “Ouch.”

  “Serves you right for rolling your eyes.” I smile.

  “Finn…can I ask you a question?” Chloe suddenly grows serious. I turn to her and wait.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  “Why are you here every day? I mean, I really enjoy your company, and it definitely makes me one of their favorite patients. But don’t you have something better to do?”

  I’m taken aback by her comments.

  “Do you not want me here?”

  “That’s not what I said. I love that you are here.”

  “I’m here because…because I want to be. When I first heard what happened, I thought I was going to pass out. I was so scared. Terrified. And coming here and staying here with you made me feel better.”

  “And now that I’m better?”

  “And now that you’re better, I want to spend time with you. I know that I didn’t get the chance to explain this properly before, but I was a total jerk before. You were right to get upset. I’m just sorry that I never got the chance to make it up to you. I shouldn’t have lied. I don’t have a good excuse. It was totally stupid and immature, and I just hope that one of these days, you can give me another chance.”

  “Another chance?”

  “Another chance for another date. I’d like to take you out again, Chloe.”

  She smiles and lights up the whole world.

  Finally, the big day is here.

  Chloe is getting discharged tomorrow, but she’s getting the bandages taken off today.

  She has been uneasy about this for a few days now.

  Agitated and uncomfortable.

  Lila is in the room with us, trying to calm her down.

  “Everything is going to be okay, Chloe,” she says. “You’re going to look great.”

  “Yeah, I’m not so sure about that.” She shakes her head. “What if it’s all disintegrated underneath there?”

  “Well, it’s going to be good just to get them off, won’t it?” she asks.

  “I don’t really know. I’m actually kind of used to them now.”

  I look at her.

  So small in her hospital gown and in that big hospital bed.

  The sun is still up, and the fluorescent lights aren’t on full blast. This is good.

  No one looks good underneath those things.

  I’m an actor.

  I know very little about lighting technology or how it works, but I do know one thing.

  Lighting is everything.

  It sets the mood, it makes the more regular people look extraordinary, and you do not want to remove bandages and look at your face for the first time in weeks without having the right lighting.

  “You’re going to look beautiful,” I say. “You know how I know? Because you are beautiful.”

  She shakes her head and waves her hand dismissively.

  She still doesn’t have full motion of her neck, otherwise, I’d know that she would shake her head as well.

  “But if you want to look your best, it’s better to do it now, rather than later. The light streaming in that window is amazing.”

  She takes a deep breath.

  The nurses offer to help, but she says that she wants to do it herself.

  She has seen them do it a million times before when they changed the bandages.

  “Okay, you two, hand me that mirror and look away.”

  Lila and I turn around and wait.

  It feels like an eternity passes before she speaks again.

  I wait for her to gasp or cry out.

  Or laugh.

  But I don’t hear her exude any noise.

  The suspense is killing me.

  “Okay,” she says. “Turn around.”

  Lila and I turn around. I see the most beautiful girl in the world.

  “You look…amazing,” I whisper.

  She smiles.

  “Yeah, really, really good, Chloe.”

  She looks at us and then in the mirror.

  “You two are insane,” Chloe concludes.

  “What?” Lila asks.

  “My hair is matted, my cheeks are still really puffy, and I’m ridiculously pale. And my nose…well, other than the bruise, I guess it looks okay.”

  “You’re the most beautiful woman in the world,” I say without missing a beat.

  I’m not acting.

  In this moment, she is.

  42

  Chloe

  I have no memory of the accident.

  One minute, I was driving on the freeway and the next, I’m in the hospital staring at the bright lights and all the staff looking down at me.

  They are milling around, yelling something, but I can’t really make out any of the words.

  I’m somewhere far away.

  Not above them, but definitely not entirely in my body either. After that, it all fades to black.

  I lose all sense of time.

  When I wake up, Finn is the first person I see.

  He’s there sleeping in the chair next to me.

  I can’t speak to him.

  I can
’t move a finger.

  He looks so peaceful sleeping sitting up like that.

  I watch him.

  I don’t entirely believe that it’s him.

  Why would he, of all people, be here?

  Where’s Lila?

  Where are my parents?

  Blackness descends again.

  Sometime later, I wake up again.

  My eyelids feel heavy. Finn is there again.

  He’s looking at something on his phone. I want to call out to him, but my mouth is too difficult to open.

  He sees me.

  At least, I think he does.

  Then, I realize that I can move my finger. I press it as hard as I can into his hand.

  The most beautiful smile forms on his face. His eyes fill with hope, and I know that it’s going to be okay.

  Over the next few weeks, my recovery is slow, boring, and cumbersome.

  My parents come see me. Lila tells me that they flew out the night of the accident and have been here ever since.

  They come visit me for hours each day, along with Lila. They both seem to like Finn a lot.

  They talk to him all the time, and he continues to stay with me. It feels like he’s never not here.

  To pass the time, he reads to me and we watch Netflix together. I fall in love with the quietness of his voice and the roar of his laughter. He laughs with his whole body.

  Unapologetically. I remember when I used to laugh like that. But nowadays, my laughter is limited by all the tubes, bandages, and fear of pain.

  Then the bandages come off. I’m terrified of the person I will see underneath.

  Horrified of not having my old face again. In the past, I remember freaking out about every stupid pimple or imperfection.

  But now, I want to have my old face back more than anything. When I look in the mirror the first time, I see her looking back at me.

  I’m a little disheveled and rough around the edges, but overall, I’m me.

  When I turn to Finn, the look on his face tells me what he’s thinking.

  He thinks I’m beautiful.

  Finn Dalton thinks I’m beautiful!

  “Wow,” Finn says, coming into the room.

  The nurses have helped me change into the loose fitting, black dress that Lila bought for me.