‘Of course.’ Bernard’s tone is icy.
‘He hurt his knee on the lot last week,’ says Susan.
‘Becauseyou, Ms McDermott, told him about the kidnapping scene,’ says Bernard.
‘I … I didn’t know—’ I begin, but Bernard interrupts me.
‘Maybe in your old job you were in the habit of telling actors exactly what their future storylines were, but that’s not how we do it here atNorthside,’ he says. ‘And especially with Adam. Our regular writers know not to breathe a single word to him. This’ –he gives Susan a sharp look – ‘is what happens when you hire incompetent, ignorant newcomers.’
‘Now, hang on,’ says Art.
But Bernard ignores him. ‘Adam needs to be handled carefully. And our old writers would have known that.’
‘But I heard Adam was okay after the fall,’ I say.
‘Oh, is that what youheard?’ says Bernard. ‘Well, he isn’t. His fall aggravated an old injury. He contacted the consultant whotreated him the last time and luckily for Adam, but not for this show, the consultant’s had a cancellation so he can see him next week.’
Art gets up and stands next to me, hands on his hips. ‘What exactly does that mean?’
‘It means …’ Susan looks like she’s about to cry. ‘It means he won’t be able to shoot next Friday. The day he’s meant to be shooting your and Annie’s hospital scenes. He was lucky to get a cancellation. If the specialist doesn’t see him now he could be waiting a year. We can’t refuse him time off for medical treatment.’
‘What?’ I say.
‘So he’ll be goneall dayFriday?’ says Art. ‘For one medical appointment?’
‘Have you ever seen a doctor, Mr Sullivan?’ says Bernard. ‘A consultant?’
Art pinches the bridge of his nose, takes a deep breath and says, ‘I have.’
‘Well,’ says Bernard, ‘then you’ll know it’s impossible to predict how long an appointment like this will take. Adam has to get from one side of the city to the other in the middle of the day and then he could be waiting for hours. He could be told he has to immediately rest his leg. We have no idea what will happen. We need to assume he won’t be able to shoot at all next Friday and make alternative plans.’
‘But …’ I can barely get the words out. ‘Those Friday scenes are the climax of the anniversary episodes! I need him!’
‘Well,’ says Bernard, ‘you can’t have him.’
And then I remember what we heard him say about the doctor.
He’s been planning this since Adam’s accident. He got Adamthis appointment days ago and he kept it from us until now, the very last minute, the day before our scripts are due.
The messing with the notes was just a mind game. This is his trump card.
And the worst thing, the very worst thing of all, is that I gave it to him by telling Adam about the kidnapping stunt. It’s all my stupid fault.
‘So … so what does this mean?’ says Art.
‘You’re going to have to rewrite all your hospital scenes,’ says Susan. ‘I wish we could shoot them on another day, but the schedule’s too tight. There just isn’t time.’ She turns to me. ‘Obviously we still need to include the kidnapping. But if we don’t see Adam’s face when Louisa kidnaps him, then we can use a double and overdub his dialogue. It won’t be as dramatic, obviously, but …’
And in that moment I think,I can’t.
Ever since I started this soul-crushing job I’ve been trying so hard to keep going, to not get overwhelmed. I’ve kept pushing through everything that’s been thrown at me. But whenever I feel like I’m getting somewhere, something happens to push me back and I can’t, Ican’ttake any more of it.
It’s too much. It’s all just too much. The relentlessness of it, the knowledge that I told Adam and the guilt about that, on top of the fact that none of my work has made any difference, that the deck was always stacked against me, that the optimism I was feeling just ten minutes earlier was stupid and misguided, that my dream job has been such an utter failure to the extent that if what Gina said is true, I might even be blamed for the demise ofNorthside…
I’ve fucked up so badly. I’ve messed up my episode and my joband maybe even the whole show – Jesus, so many people might lose their jobs – and my parents will be so upset and everyone is going to hate me and ohGod, I’ve fucked up Art’s episode as well as my own and he’s going to blame me, he’s going to hate me too, he’s probably hating me right now …
I can’t snarl at Bernard. I can’t snap at him. I can’t do anything. I feel utterly beaten. I feel broken.
Congratulations, Bernard. You’ve won.