No one is talking about scripts, schedules, or screen tests. No one is looking over anyone else’s shoulder to see if someone more important is in the room. The women are eating and wearing faded jeans from the Gap. Once again, I try to picture Craig sitting here with us, and the image just doesn’t compute. Craig channeling his inner mountain man would be really entertaining… or a disaster. But he did say that he’d love to visit, so maybe I’m not giving him enough credit.
Being with my family and old friends this weekend, I’ve felt very far from home, and at the same time right at home. And sitting in front of this campfire, I have one of those moments of feeling totally and utterly at peace in my skin. The kind of moment where you didn’t even realize how wound up you were, until the feeling of calm settles on you. I take a deep breath, enjoying the cool mountain air and the sharp scent of firewood.
“What’s going on in that busy head, Sis?” Matthew leans in next to me as he pokes a stick at the fire.
“Nothing.” I laugh. “You’d just tease me for being sentimental.”
“Well, since I haven’t seen you in what seems like forever, I will allow your sentimentality only this once.” Matthew does a mock stern voice.
“It’s just nice… you know? Being home. That even though we’ve been away so long, leading whole other lives, we come back here, and everything just falls into place. It’s like nothing has changed; we’re still in high school, coming up here every weekend. We’re so lucky. Most people don’t have this.”
“I know what you mean. But don’t you think it’s great that you get the best of both worlds? You get to have your life in LA, pursue your dreams, and Wolf is always here. It’s the rock.” We both keep looking at the fire. My brother is not usually this deep.
“I’m jealous that you’re back here,” I say. “You had your adventures, and now you’re going to live near Mom and Dad, inspire the next generation of Wolverines… maybe finally date someone longer than two months.” I playfully punch his arm.
“Well, yes to the first two for sure,” he says, laughing. “I can’t promise the last one, but I’m psyched to be home. And I’ll be closer to LA now, so I can pop down and visit. You can take me to lunch on Rodeo Drive.” He jokingly pronounces it “rodeo,” as in bull riding and cattle calls. At least I think he’s joking.
“Sure thing, we can do that. I love you, baby brother.”
“You too, Sis,” he says, getting up to grab more firewood. “And you know, Maddy, you could always move home too. I mean, it’s not unthinkable.”
I sit quietly pondering that for a while and wonder why, even though I love it here, it’s never occurred to me to move back to Wolf. Can you really go home again? And can I give up my career? I stuff these thoughts away, happy to let the music, fun, and beer sweep over me.
Hours later, the crowd has thinned as some of the families with young kids have gone home, but the dancing is still going strong. Everyone is laughing and getting crazy. I sit in a lounge chair, sweaty from my classic ’80s dance moves, catching my breath. Brian squats down next to me, watching the chaos. He smells like campfire and musk, a smell I would bottle if I could.
“Hey, you. Where are the kids?” I ask.
“Lily took them home. They didn’t even move when we put them in the car seats. They’re going to sleep well tonight.”
“That’s good. You and Lily are such great parents, Brian. I don’t know how you do it.”
“I know, right. How did that happen? One minute, we’re kids playing around this very campsite, and the next, we’re bringing our own kids here. It’s freaky. How did we get old enough to have kids? Sometimes I still feel I’m acting the part of Dad. Cool Dad, of course,” Brian says, laughing. “Hey, wanna go for a walk?”
“Sure.” I look back at the rowdy crowd. “Let’s go.”
When we finally get far enough away from the cars and the fire, Brian pulls out a mini flashlight.
“It’s a full moon tonight. What’s that for?” I ask.
“I thought you might get scared since you’re a city-folk type now.”
“Ha-ha,” I say as we head into the night. “Do I really seem different now?”
“A little. I mean, it has been ten years; it’s going to change you. It’s meant to change you a little, right?”
“Yeah, but when does it get to be too much?”
Our conversation stops as we get to the darkened lodge and the lift rising up the mountain in the distance like a shadow.
“Should we go up?” He turns to me, smiling mischievously.
“What the hell. For old time’s sake.”
I get the keys from my dad’s hiding spot. Thankfully, that hasn’t changed. And within minutes, Brian and I are riding up the mountain on the bunny slope lift.
“Do you know how much trouble we would be in—today, never mind when we were kids—if my dad ever caught us doing this?”
“Some things never change.” Sittting on top of the tarp protecting the seats from the summer sun, isn’t as comfortable today as it was when we were kids. But we sit together, heading up the darkened hillside, and there’s just an easy silence. This is one of my favorite things about being with Brian; we don’t have to talk.
Finally, after a moment, he leans into my shoulder. “So, Maddy. How’s life?”
I take a minute to answer because I know Brian really wants to know.
“I’m good. It’s good. I’m still loving working on The Wrong Doctor. This season is going well, but it’s hectic.”
“Lily and I can’t wait for the new season. Any insider scoop for us?”
“No spoilers from me. Besides, that would ruin it. I will tell you, we have a great new character. This guy Adam Devin. Lily watches Days, right? He’s on it.”
“Oh, man, first you have Billy Fox and now this Devin guy? You just want to torture me while my wife swoons over your friends.”
“Well, they’re not exactly my friends. Well, Billy is for sure. But I barely know Adam. I am sure he’s like all the rest, though. I will be happy to remind Lily that she’s way better off with you. You can catch a fish with your bare hands. Adam would need two prop guys and a stunt double to pull that off,” I add with Wolverine and ex-girlfriend loyalty. “You guys should come down and come on set one day. It would be fun.”
“God, Lily would love that. With the little guys, it’s hard to imagine getting away to LA. But we’ll try. I’m glad you’re still loving your job, Maddy. Any idea what comes next? Maybe your own movie or show? I mean, you have all of these good ideas. I remember all of the stories you used to tell me as we sat in our tree.”
“We were fourteen, Brian. All those stories were about lost love and teen angst.” I laugh and cringe simultaneously at the memories. “Besides, LA is a very different place; that’s not how the world works. There are the creatives and there are the worker bees. I’m a worker bee and that’s fine. I love my job; it’s what I want.”
“Yeah, I just don’t like to see you get into a rut. You left Wolf to achieve something big and amazing. I don’t want you to lose sight of that.”
“Does my life really sound that boring to you?” I ask, trying to keep the edge out of my voice.
“Not at all. Your life is amazing. Are you kidding? Lily is always looking for you in US Weekly and People magazine. She swears you must be just off-screen in every shot.”
“Please assure her that I am not.”
“We just want you to be happy. I know how hard it was for you when your parents forced you to take time away from Wolf after college.”
“They didn’t force me…” They sat me down and lectured me until I relented. I was so cocky at twenty-two, thinking I knew best—I was willing to take their dare, to live somewhere else, just to make sure Wolf was what I wanted. Within a year of living in LA, I realized why they went the tough-love route. I would never have taken the chance otherwise, and now I wouldn’t trade my life for anything.
“I don’t think either of us pict
ured you working in Tinseltown,” he jokes, to lighten up his sudden serious turn. “I know it meant so much to you to prove yourself to Hogan and your parents. I just hope it’s still what you want.”
When was the last time I actually stopped to think about what I really want?
“It is, Brian.”
“And what about your love life? All work and no play, as they say.” He flashes me the same huge grin that melted my fourteen-year-old heart. I knew this was coming, but for some reason, I just don’t feel like telling him about Craig. It’s so new.
“I see your plan, Brian. You did this on purpose. You got me up here on a freakin’ ski lift so I’m trapped, and then you interrogate me. I can throw you off this thing, you know.”
“You didn’t answer the question, Maddy.”
I just look at him and roll my eyes. “I know.”
Saved by the bell, my phone rings, and it’s my dad calling.
“Hey, Daddy, how are you?”
“Good. Where are you?”
“Oh, um… just at the campfire… talking with Brian.” Brian and I look at each other and crack up that we’re still sneaking around behind my dad’s back all these years later.
“What’s that loud noise?” Oh God, the lift motor—of course he can hear that.
“I don’t know. The reception is really bad up here. I’m losing you.” I stagger my words so it seems like I’m cutting in and out. Unbelievable how easy it is to revert to a teenaged mind-set.
“I feel like a monkey trying to do math, trying to use this damn thing. Your mom and I are headed to bed, so we’ll miss you when you get home. We’re zonked after today, so we just wanted to say good night and make sure we’re on for lunch tomorrow before you hit the road.”
“Yep, lunch sounds good.”
“We were going to go to Crazy Eights Café, but now your mom wants to make lunch with that sandwich thingy you got her.”
I am touched my gift was such a hit. “That sounds great.”
“Good, because your mom and I want to have a check-in.”
In Carson family lingo, a check-in is a talk about some sort of family business, like where our vacation would be or when my brother decided to go climb Kilimanjaro. Once when I was seven, Mike, Matthew, and I called a check-in to discuss getting a pool in the backyard. The answer: no.
“Is everything okay, Dad?”
“Yeah, all fine. We just want to have time with our girl.”
But something about the way he says it is unconvincing. As Brian and I make our way back to the campfire, I have a nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach.
Scene 009
Int. Maddy’s bedroom—morning
I press snooze on my alarm clock for the second time. I can’t even remember the last time I did that—needed an alarm clock, let alone pressed snooze. I am going to be late today, something that also never happens. But I am dealing with no sleep and a little bit of an emotional hangover after the family check-in and the long drive. I meant to hit the road right after lunch and get back by midnight, but I didn’t leave until 7:00 p.m., much to my parents’ objections. They kept insisting I stay an extra night because driving in the mountains so late at night isn’t the best idea. But then neither is missing a day of work when we’re already getting behind in the shooting schedule. It was tough to leave, though. My mom, already a sentimental person, was feeling especially so after the birthday party. One thing led to another and soon enough, they dropped the bombshell that they are thinking of selling the ski shop and retiring. To some place warmer. Like Arizona. I can no more imagine my parents in Arizona than I can imagine—well, me in Arizona. They are mountain people. Wolf County is a part of our family.
But apparently business has been really slow, and they, along with other businesses in Wolf, have been struggling for the last couple seasons. Or as my dad put it, “It’s slower than molasses running uphill in July, around here.” Something they’ve effectively hidden from me until now. Even during lunch, I got the feeling they were holding back, and their forced cheer made me feel even worse. They assured me no immediate decisions would be made in terms of selling the lodge or the house, but they just wanted me to know it was a possibility. “It might be about time for the third act, Maddy.”
I just sat there stunned. I can’t even imagine a life that doesn’t include my parents living in Wolf and running the resort. It’s almost incomprehensible. After lunch, instead of hitting the road, I insisted that we go through the books, as if I could find some obvious mistake or accounting error. Turns out, the situation is pretty serious. Not dire, but definitely stressful.
The whole drive home last night, all this morning, and now on my ride into work, my mind keeps racing with ideas to rev up business. I’m going to call Mike later tonight (for now my parents have kept Matthew in the dark, since he’s just decided to move home) so we can put our heads together. But first, I have to get through today’s shoot, which is going to be insane.
As I walk on set, Frank greets me and looks at his watch. He’s clearly had his morning coffee because a good deal of it is down the front of his shirt.
“Wow, Maddy Carson isn’t early. I was going to start calling morgues when you weren’t here at seven on the dot. I assumed you must have gotten whatever Adam has…”
“What are you talking about? What’s wrong with Adam?”
“Stomach flu. It’s bad. The day is blown.”
Adam can’t be sick. We have an intense schedule today to make up for the holiday weekend. This is not helping my mood or stress level.
“He’s not really sick, though, right? What do you bet he was on some three-day bender and just can’t find his way off some rapper’s yacht? Were there girls screaming in the background when he called in?”
“Um, no. Maddy. He’s here. In his trailer.” My face still hasn’t released its disbelieving expression. “You don’t believe Adam’s really sick, go see for yourself. But don’t breathe in there. Whatever he’s got, believe me, you don’t want it.”
Frank steps over to talk to Rian McCourt, this week’s director, to start rearranging the schedule. Frankly, I am still skeptical that Adam is really too sick to work today. But then why did he bother to come in? Maybe he’s pulling some diva move regarding contract negotiations or something. Happens all the time. McCourt waves me into the discussion.
“Maddy, we can’t scrap the whole day. We’ll have to shoot around Adam. I have a shoot in Brazil next week.”
“I… I totally understand your situation,” I say calmly. Except I don’t. McCourt’s not here next week? This is his episode; he has to finish it. I glance at Frank. This could turn into a nightmare quickly. “Adam’s in every scene today and tomorrow. Maybe we can try to get some of Billy’s stuff done this morning and then move some scenes from Thursday to today?”
“Except the set for those scenes isn’t built yet. Even if they worked twenty-four-seven, they won’t have it ready until Wednesday at the earliest,” Frank offers.
McCourt flicks his pen at the monitors in frustration. It pings off and we all watch it roll away. Then he storms off with a terse, “I need a cigarette. I’ll be back.” And this is what I mean by the diva moods. McCourt’s dramatic exit means that Frank and I are left to strategize a viable option while he has a smoke break. I need to call Craig, as he should be alerted to any setbacks that could potentially cost the production major dollars. But given the stress Craig is under, I hesitate. Maybe we can find a solution first.
Suddenly I hear Yoda’s voice coming from my cell phone: “Do or do not. There is no try.” Damn Matthew. Yet again, he must have figured out my password and changed my ringtone settings, a joke he finds endlessly funny. I’m still mortified about the time Sir Mix-a-Lot’s “I Like Big Butts” filled the crowded waiting room as I waited for a dentist appointment. Even in the charged atmosphere, the classic quote gives Frank a smile as he flips through the call sheet and pages of sides—xeroxed copies of the pages from the script that we
were scheduled to shoot today.
I read the text, which ironically is from the practical joker himself.
Matthew: Fantastic weekend sis. Glad you made it. But if you don’t come home again soon, I’m coming to LA to find out all about your secret double life.
Before I can reply, another text comes in.
Matthew: PS: like your new alerts?
Me: Ha freakin’ ha. Jerk!
Me: I’m def coming home for Tgiving. Just a few weeks, really.
I can’t resist quickly adding a picture to my text. It’s a perfect candid moment from Saturday afternoon, with my brothers hovering next to the grill with my dad. They’re all laughing at a joke someone just told, and my dad looks so happy and young. I cringe again, thinking of my parents leaving Wolf. I know there has to be a solution. But first we need to resolve today’s crisis. I glance up to see McCourt storming back toward us, coffee now in hand.
“Any developments?”
What could possibly have developed since he walked away? Aliens landed and handed us Adam Devin’s doppelganger? I love that he thinks Frank and I somehow solved this problem in the ten minutes he was gone. We’re good, but we’re not that good.
“Maybe he’ll sleep it off if we give him a couple hours?” I suggest unconvincingly.
“Maddy, he doesn’t even look human. I told you to go see for yourself. I just ordered a car service to take him home. He shouldn’t even be driving.”
Something makes me think of Matthew’s favorite movie, Spaceballs. He’s made me watch it with him a hundred times. There’s this scene where they capture the stunt doubles in the chase sequence by mistake—something that would never happen on my watch, but inspiration strikes.
Scared Scriptless Page 7