When the Cameras Stop Rolling...

by Connie Cox

  But overall they were the same. Both outgoing. Sparkling. Full of life.

  Both full of ambition.

  This won’t affect our work, will it?

  Thank goodness, she’d brought him back to reality.

  He’d tried having a relationship with an ambitious woman. Saying it hadn’t worked out was an understatement.

  O’Donnells didn’t pick the right partners for home and hearth.

  If he needed proof, he only had to look at his immediate family. His mother and his father. He and Tiffany. His sister wouldn’t give up on her hopelessly romantic dreams even after two failed marriages and one badly limping one.

  Sadness swamped him. There had to be more to life than getting up, going to work and coming home to eat in front of the television while he washed clothes so he could get up and go to work again the next day.

  Maybe for other people, but not for him.

  “Can we turn it down?” Aaron cut through Mark’s thoughts to point to the radio.

  Mark wasn’t oblivious to the role reversal here with the teen complaining the music was too loud.

  “Fine.” While he said the words out loud, they were lost in a very fine guitar riff. Mark held his hand over the volume knob until the last note faded into the engine noise of his truck before taking the sound down a couple of decibels.

  “Got homework?” He fell back into the responsible adult role expected of him.

  “Did it at school.”

  “I’ll check it when we get home.”

  “You don’t have to—”

  “Want to change your answer, then?”

  Mark watched Aaron slump down in his seat.

  “If you want to play college ball, you’ve got to make the grades to keep you on the field in high school. Tutoring won’t do you any good if you don’t turn in your work and pass the tests.”

  The boy rubbed his chin.

  “Hands off your face.” It was an automatic response Mark should have probably swallowed this time despite Aaron’s increasingly severe acne breakouts. Some things went deeper than looks.

  Mark needed to remember that about everyone in his world, not just his nephew.

  * * *

  “Where are you? Call me.”

  Eva cleared her sister-in-law’s five calls, each increasing in intensity, from her cellphone before phoning her back.

  As soon as Susan answered, Eva started the conversation with, “I did it.”

  “I’ve been so worried.” Susan picked up on Eva’s opening line. “Did what?”

  “I ate pizza.” Eva twirled her finger in her hair, feeling both excited and uneasy at the same time. “With a guy.”

  Silence.

  “Susan?”

  “That’s good, sweetie. Real good.” It sounded forced, like Susan was talking through a thick throat.

  “That’s not what the tone of your voice says.”

  “It’s just—we knew this day would come. This day needed to come. But sometimes it’s just so hard to remember that Chuck is never coming back.” Susan sniffed. “What kind of accountability partner am I? I’m supposed to be encouraging you. And I am proud of you. Just sometimes it’s so hard to let go and go on.”

  Eva had been saying that same thing for almost two years. Tonight, though, the tightness in her chest, the heaviness in her heart wasn’t quite so painful.

  Eva swallowed hard before she could say, “I think Chuck would be okay with it.”

  “I know he would. He would be so happy for you.” Susan noisily blew her nose. “So tell me about your date.”

  “It wasn’t a date.” Eva rubbed her finger across her lip, feeling the buzz as if Mark had just kissed her. “It was just pizza. With a co-worker who happens to be male.”

  “This male, is he cute?”

  “Cute?” The image of Mark came to her, the masculinity that scored his face, the height and breadth of his body, the twinkle in his eyes, the hint of a dimple in his smile.

  “Cute might not be the word.”

  Handsome. Stunning. Breathtaking. The superlatives could go on all night.

  “So who is this co-worker?”

  “Remember the E.R. doctor I told you about who would be joining the show?”

  “Mark O’Donnell? You’re talking about Mark O’Donnell?”

  “Yes, Mark O’Donnell.”

  “Honey, I caught him on the DVR after you told me he’d guest hosted with you. You’re right. Cute doesn’t cover it. If I weren’t already married, I would have to arm wrestle you for him—assuming he’d want a short, dumpy blonde with a ten-year-old and two toddlers hanging off her arms.”

  Eva had to laugh at the picture Susan painted of herself. It was quite accurate and her husband, who happened to be Eva’s brother, adored her for all she was.

  Eva wanted that again. That adoration. And maybe even the children. Maybe someday.

  Maybe Mark? Her imagination jumped way ahead of reality. It hadn’t even been a date. Just pizza.

  “We work together. Nothing more. It was more of a get-acquainted kind of thing.”

  Only, instead of a professional handshake, they’d parted with a kiss. A kiss that made her lips burn even now.

  “That’s not what this sounds like. I haven’t heard so much energy in your voice since—”

  “It’s not the guy. It’s the timing. And it’s no big deal. Just two co-workers hanging out together.” But Eva couldn’t separate one from the other.

  “Maybe.” Susan echoed her doubt. “It looked like you had good chemistry on the screen.”

  “The magic of television.” And of pizza. And of moonlight. Eva shook off her fanciful feelings.

  Over the phone line she could hear one of her nieces starting to cry, that sleepy whine that wouldn’t stop until Susan gave her the attention she needed.

  “Hon, I’ve got to go.”

  “I hear.”

  “So call me tomorrow. I want to hear more.”

  “Nothing more to say.”

  “Tomorrow. After your taping.” Susan put both love and steel in her voice. It was that steel that had kept Eva from falling apart when Chuck had died. And that love that had lent her the strength to keep breathing through it. Susan had been there for her every step of the way, even though she had been doing her own grieving. Chuck had always been like a big brother to Susan and his death had hit her very hard.

  Susan had reminded Eva that she’d given her the same support through those difficult early years of marriage to Ricky.

  That’s what family did.

  “Right. Tomorrow, after the taping. Talk to you then.”

  Eva hung up, looked around her apartment, which she had manically repainted chocolate brown in the weeks following the funeral, and decided to repaint. Instead of feeling safe and cozy, the dark color now felt like a claustrophobic cave.

  Her cave time was over.

  She would pick up a few gallons of paint tomorrow after she did her interviews at the high school. Time to brighten up her world.

  She’d painted at least once every six months since she and Chuck had married. Chuck had always groaned, but he’d always gone along with the change, as long as he hadn’t had to do it.

  He’d hated painting. Too tedious, especially trimming round the windows.

  He’d painted his world in broader strokes.

  She studied the photo of Chuck on her mantel as she had done at least once a day since he’d been gone. He looked out at her with that big goofy grin of his. He’d always kept her honest even when she’d wanted to spin things.

  It had been his honesty that had made the street gangs respect him even if they hadn’t always obeyed him. He’d been one of the best for persuading them to keep their uneasy peac
e within their own ranks as well as with outside gangs.

  But his negotiations had failed when he’d needed them most.

  His only fault had been his inability to see that she could handle herself. She blamed part of that on their age difference. At eight years her senior, Chuck had taken on a paternal role on occasion. He’d had a strong need to protect her even when she could do the job herself.

  And it had gotten him killed.

  As she had so many times since his death, Eva felt his warmth on her back, comforting her. If she turned fast enough, could she see him there?

  She murmured aloud, “I’ve got your back, babe. And your front. And all parts in between.”

  That’s what he’d always said to her. What would he say now?

  Time to let go and live again.

  She heard him as clearly as she felt him.

  “I’m trying.”

  It’s okay that it’s more than pizza.

  Her body needed air. She drew in a deep breath and blew it out again.

  And he was gone.

  But this time the warmth didn’t fade away when he did. Instead, Eva felt the beginnings of her own inner fire flicker as it tried to take hold.

  She changed from her work clothes into an old T-shirt Chuck had worn during his academy days.

  Instead of crawling into her big, cold bed, she flipped on her laptop.

  For the first time in two years Eva pulled up the substance-abuse site and searched for information.

  Signs of steroid abuse.

  She researched, catching up with the newest studies, committing to memory the talking points when interviewing a steroid abuser and feeling that old spark come to life at the thought of helping people to stop hurting and start putting their lives back together.

  This was what she was made for. Could she do it?

  It wasn’t a decision she had to make tomorrow—she glanced at the clock, after midnight—or rather today.

  Going back into practice wasn’t a decision she ever had to make. She could keep on doing what she was doing, what she was good at and what she enjoyed. It might not be her dream job, but it was a good job.

  Her show helped multitudes of people. She had the fan mail to prove it. She only had to recall the woman at the pizza parlor to see how vital her new job was.

  As the clock showed she was well on her way into tomorrow and her eyes started to sting, she shut down her laptop, exhausted enough to sleep.

  Climbing into bed, she searched for the remembered feeling of Chuck next to her. It was getting harder and harder to remember that feeling.

  She stacked pillows against her back and hugged another one, doing what she could to create a sense of pseudo-security.

  Mark had the potential to change her world in a big way. Was that what she wanted?

  She would think about it tomorrow.

  Tomorrow. There would always be a tomorrow.

  Except when there wasn’t.

  * * *

  Eva surveyed the group of a dozen teens arranged on the bleachers in front of her. They watched themselves on the monitors, either boldly posturing or shyly glancing according to their natures.

  “Ready?” she asked Mark, unable to squelch the bubble of resentment floating in her stomach. This segment was her bribe to play nicely. Therefore, this should have been her interview and her interview alone.

  “Ready,” he answered, gesturing for her to precede him as if he was in charge.

  To do anything other than smile graciously would be petty and she had outgrown pettiness a dozen years ago.

  As she took her seat, the teens started to whisper and squirm. Not the relaxed attitude she wanted for this frank discussion.

  She wanted to put them at ease but she needed to get the preliminaries out of the way first.

  “Thank you for coming,” she said over their chatter.

  They finished up their conversations then gave her their attention.

  Meeting the eyes of each of them, she loosely clasped her hands and let them fall into her lap. “Full disclosure. Anything you say here may be shown to the entire world. Those of you who are over eighteen have signed waivers to that effect. Those of you under eighteen have turned in waivers with a parent’s or guardian’s signature. I intend to get into a very heavy discussion. I will tell the entire truth and I expect that from you, too. Do any of you want to change your mind now?”

  Mark gave a pointed look at his nephew. Mark hadn’t wanted Aaron participating in this interview, hadn’t wanted to sign the waiver, but in the end Aaron had won out.

  Eva was sure it had something to do with the little cheerleader she recognized from the pizza parlor snuggled up next to the big teen.

  Aaron studiously avoided making eye contact with his uncle.

  If anyone had wanted to back out, peer pressure kept them from speaking up. This interview would take special handling to make it real but to keep it within the realm of public airing. Waivers or not, she would never expose anything that these teens wouldn’t want made public.

  It was a personal barrier most reporters wouldn’t put in their own paths.

  “I’ll stay around for questions off camera at the end of the interview.” Maybe she wasn’t cut out for hard-hitting journalism after all.

  Eva squashed that thought as she gave her interviewees a reassuring smile.

  “Let’s get started.” She picked up the cup of hot tea one of the gaffers had left for her and took a sip. Another ploy to put the teens at ease. Speaking into the camera, she said, “Welcome to this special segment of Ask the Doc. I’m Dr. Eva Veracruz and this is Dr. Mark O’Donnell. We’re with a group of teen athletes from various schools across the city to ask some tough questions.

  “How many of you think some professional athletes take drugs to enhance their performance?”

  All hands went up.

  “What drugs to you think they take?”

  The teens called out.

  “Speed.”

  “Weight-loss pills.”

  “Steroids.”

  All of them nodded. “Yeah, steroids.”

  “Juice.”

  “’Roids.”

  They used the most common street names for anabolic steroids.

  Eva wanted to kick Mark as he furrowed his brow at the quick and easy way the teens answered. He worked in E.R. Surely he knew the worldliness of today’s teens?

  Or was it that he knew many of these particular teens and had thought their expensive school protected them from that side of life?

  In Eva’s experience, no economic stratum was immune. The only difference between wealthy and poor areas was the more expensive the school, the more expensive the drugs.

  As if Mark heard her unspoken thoughts, he cleared his brow and replaced his expression of disapproval with one of interest instead.

  “Why do athletes take these drugs?”

  “To enhance their performance. More endurance,” said one of the girls Eva recognized from her own alma mater.

  “To get bigger, faster,” the cheerleader next to Aaron added. As tiny as she was, Eva was fairly certain this girl had never done steroids. In fact, her small size worried Eva. She would try to keep an eye on the girl.

  As outspoken as Mark’s nephew usually was, he was surprisingly quiet today.

  Eva made her voice casual and nonjudgmental. “Do you think high-school athletes take steroids?”

  All heads nodded.

  Mark might have thought that one or two of these kids might know someone who injected themselves, but they all did? Even the kids in his nephew’s school?

  Mark started to frown until Eva “accidentally” bumped him with her cup of tea. Recalling his role, he wiped his expression from his face, hiding
his shock.

  Sure, he saw kids in the E.R. with drug problems, but those were usually mood-altering drugs, hard drugs, like meth or ecstasy.

  He cleared his throat, conscious of the index cards he held in his hand that gave a brief bio of each athlete. “So what do steroids do?”

  A football player from a school across town said, “You can eat all you want without getting fat.”

  “And you can build muscle fast, even if you don’t work out much,” another boy said. His card said he was on a wrestling team.

  “They give you confidence,” a girl he recognized from the swim team added.

  Mark nodded, accepting their statements. All that was true. But there were the downsides.

  “What are the side effects?”

  The teens looked at each other. Half seemed not to know. The other half seemed to want to deny any side effects.

  Eva leaned forward, gracefully taking the conversation back at the right time. It was as if she was the yin to his yang—at least when it came to television. How would she be when she wasn’t in front of a camera?

  One of Mark’s strongest fantasies surfaced, a fantasy he’d never gotten to indulge in. Would Eva—?

  Her no-nonsense voice cut through his daydreams.

  “Steroids in teens can stunt growth.”

  Mark watched each students’ reactions as most looked unconcerned but a few looked worried. This wasn’t supposed to be a witch hunt to uncover drug use, but he couldn’t help being concerned.

  Aaron stared up into the rafters, his attention drifting off. Mark hoped the cameraman didn’t do a close-up on his nephew while Aaron was so obviously off in his own little world.

  With Mark’s own very recent side trip into dream world, he couldn’t fault his nephew. He just hoped Aaron’s daydreams were a lot more innocent than his uncle’s.

  Eva gave the hand signal that called the camera’s focus back to her. “Other side effects can be jaundice, which makes your skin yellow, fluid retention, which makes you look puffy, and a decrease in LDL, which you can’t see but is bad for your circulatory system.

  “Anyone know any other side effects?” Discreetly, Eva directed the cameras to the teens.