“Lila?”
She looks up. Her eyes are watery. Her face is deep red. She has been crying.
“Finn?” she asks. “What are you doing here?”
“I came as soon as I heard. How is she?”
Lila shakes her head. “Not good. She’s in surgery. They say that she’s got swelling. That she might be in a coma. I don’t know. They used all of these medical terms, I didn’t really understand.”
“What happened?” I ask.
“I’m not really sure,” she shakes her head.
What they don’t tell you about emergency rooms, and hospitals in general, is that every minute in there feels like a century, and every hour feels like a lifetime. I buy Lila coffee and some candy from the vending machine, but the sugar just makes it worse. I start to feel jumpy and even more out of control. A few hours later, a couple of police officers show up to talk to the doctors. They tell Lila that the person who was driving was drunk. In addition to hitting Chloe, he also slammed into a car with a family. Everyone in that car is dead.
Lila breaks down when she tells me this. She’s completely inconsolable, and all I can do is wrap my arms around her and tell her that it’s going to be okay.
“Do you promise?” she mumbles into my chest.
“What?”
“Do you promise that Chloe is going to be okay?” Lila looks up into my eyes.
“Yes, I promise,” I say. “I know she’s going to be okay.”
Delivering those words is the hardest acting job I’ve ever done. I know what she wants to hear. It’s something that the medical professionals aren’t able to offer her. So, I’m the one she relies on.
Another hour passes. I go down to the cafeteria and wander around. Random people stop me and ask to take pictures with me. At first, I try to say no, but after a while I give up. They’re here for someone too. If this makes them feel even a little bit better, why not? The only thing I can’t muster is a smile. Afterwards, every single person asks me why I’m here. I tell them that a friend has been in a bad car accident. They promise to pray for me and tell me where the chapel is. I’m not a religious person, but three hours later, after making another round of the hospital to stretch my legs, I find myself in front of the chapel. I open the door quietly. There’s no one inside. It’s dark and cool. No bright, obtrusive fluorescent lights in here. I find a seat in the back and just sit there for a while. I close my eyes. I think about Chloe. I think about every moment that we had shared together. I think about how much she made me laugh, how little time we had together and how whatever time we had together, I wasted on lying to her about something so incredibly inconsequential that it’s ridiculous.
“She’s out of surgery,” Lila says after I come back to the waiting area. “She’s stable now. But she’s in a coma.”
“A coma?” I ask. She had mentioned it before, but a big part of me didn’t think it was real. Or possible.
“What does that mean?” I ask.
She shrugs. “I don’t really know.”
I look at Lila’s face. She looks like she’s about to cry again, but no tears come out. She is spent.
I hand Lila another cup of coffee. I no longer have to ask her if she wants cream or sugar in it. After so many hours in this place, I know exactly what she likes. Black coffee, no cream, no sugar. She likes peanut and plain M&M’s and hates crispy M&M’s. She doesn’t care for snickers or any kind of sour candy.
“The cops were back again,” she says taking a sip. “Apparently, that drunk asshole who hit her and that family is fine. Only a broken arm. But they’re arresting him. Vehicular manslaughter.”
“Good,” I say.
“Why does it have to be that way? He was the one drinking and driving. And yet, it’s Chloe and that dead family that has to suffer. He killed an entire family! The mom, dad, and two kids. I can’t even imagine! And Chloe, my sweet Chloe, she’s in a coma now. Because of him. And he’s fine! Only a broken arm. What the hell is wrong with the world?”
I put my arm around her shoulder, but she pushes me off. She’s no longer in shock. Now she’s angry. I’m angry with her.
“I’m going to get some air,” she says and walks off.
Suddenly, my phone rings. I had completely forgotten about it. Its vibration inside my front pocket feels foreign and confusing.
“Hi, Martha,” I answer it. I tell her everything I know about Chloe’s status. She listens carefully, saying ‘I’m sorry,’ over and over.
“So what’s going to happen now?” she asks after I’m done.
“I don’t really know. I guess they’re going to let us go and see her sometime soon. But she’s in a coma. And I have no idea when she’s going to come out of it.”
“This is terrible. Drunk driver, huh?” she asks.
“Yeah, and get this. He’s totally fine. Killed a family. Put Chloe in this place. Only has a broken arm. At least they arrested him.”
“Yes, at least there’s that,” Martha says. Neither of us says anything for a while. Then it hits me. She wants something from me.
“Martha, this isn’t the only reason you’re calling, is it?” I ask.
“No, I am calling to check on Chloe,” she says quickly.
I wait for her to find the right words.
“But since you’d brought it up…yes, there was something else. We only have one more scene left, Finn, and we can’t do it without you. It should only take four or five hours, tops. And then everyone can go home.”
I nod. She’s right, of course. Even though it seems callous and incredibly selfish at this time, the movie isn’t going to be finished without me.
“What about tomorrow morning?” I ask. “I’m going to stay here tonight, but I can come in the morning.”
“Yes, yes, that will be perfect. Thank you so much, Finn. And I’m going to come over tonight and see her.”
“There’s really no need to come tonight,” I say. “I’m not even sure if they’re going to let me in, because I’m not family.”
“Finn, I hate to be a broken record, but I really am sorry about this. If there’s anything that I or we can all do for her, just let us know. Please.”
“I will. I’ll see you tomorrow,” I say and hang up the phone.
As I suspected, they do not let me go inside to see Chloe. They don’t want to disturb her. They don’t even let Lila in until 5 a.m. the following morning.
She comes out a couple of hours later to get some breakfast.
“How is she?” I run up to her. Lila staggers a bit, startled.
“What are you still doing here?”
“Just waiting. It’s a waiting room. What else is there to do here?”
“Finn, you should go home. Honestly. Get some sleep.”
“I have to be at work in an hour. How is she?”
“She’s horrible. Her face is all bandaged up. She has all of these tubes coming in and out of her. And she’s in a coma. It’s like she’s not even there, Finn.”
I take a deep breath.
“Do you think they’ll let me see her later? I have to go to work now, but I’ll be back in the afternoon.”
“If they don’t, I will,” she says. “I don’t want to go sit there all by myself.”
“Okay,” I say giving her a warm hug. “You stay strong, Lila. It’s going to be okay.”
Chapter 24 - Finn
I arrive on set haggard and exhausted. Everyone swarms around me to find out what’s going on 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 bet
ween 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, 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 had 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 life saver,” 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 Cedar 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 to 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.
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, look 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 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 had 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 during 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 her over and over, and big, round tears start to roll down my face.
“You’re awake,” I whisper.
Chapter 25 - Finn
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 up.
“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 star
ing 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 will ever talk to you again. Or if you’ll 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 you, I’d know who 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.”
Auctioned to Him Book 8 Page 75