that he’d gone too far, Mark cleared his throat and nodded at the screen. “Can I see what you’ve done?”
“Sure.” Simon cued the footage and it started at the beginning. He had only about twenty-eight minutes of the forty-seven-minute documentary laid down, and about five of those weren’t yet set in stone. But as he watched the scenes play out in front of him, he couldn’t help nodding. Already the voice-over parts were weaving themselves together in his head. His crew had done a good job.
He glanced at Mark, intending to congratulate him, but saw that his cameraman had tears in his eyes as he watched the screen. Of course, Mark caught him looking and flushed a little. He was obviously embarrassed, but he didn’t say anything. Neither did Simon. The stuff they were watching was tough, some of it almost impossible to imagine despite the fact that they had been there.
That was the whole point of the special, to bring the reality of life over there into people’s living rooms. To touch them, to make them think. To help them understand.
He should be proud of what he’d done, proud of what they’d all done. He could see that Mark was. And Simon supposed that he was, as well. But that satisfaction was cushioned by the detachment he always felt, by the buffer he kept between himself and the people he reported on.
If he was honest, he would admit that it was the same buffer he’d kept between himself and Amanda all these years. The same buffer he’d kept between himself and Gabby, though she was his daughter and he had loved her very much. He hadn’t allowed himself to show that love, at least not in the way that other fathers did.
Oh, he’d brought her things from all over the world, had taken her to amusement parks and movies and even on vacation to Hawaii, though she’d been too young to appreciate the beauty of the island. But he’d never been very demonstrative, never been one to hug her unless she hugged him first and expected it in return. Never been one to think about her when he was away from her.
Not like Amanda, who had let so much of her life revolve around their little girl. When Gabby was a baby, Amanda had turned her whole life around to stay in the States and work until Gabby was a year old and able to go with her to Jamaica and Mexico and Haiti.
And when Gabby had gotten sick, Amanda had turned into a tiger mom. She’d rushed their daughter back to the States, called in every favor she could from the best oncologists in the country, all in an effort to make Gabby well. She’d put her whole career, her whole life, on hold for their daughter.
Unlike him. Simon had rushed in with toys and sympathy, but had never managed to stick around for the hard stuff. For the aftermath of the chemo appointments, the bone-marrow transplant that didn’t take, the last weeks and days as Gabby faded quietly away.
It had hurt him when his daughter had died. But he hadn’t let it devastate him or even slow him down. He hadn’t allowed his heart to break. Not the way Amanda’s had.
God, he really was an utter failure as a human being, so concerned with being in control that he never really let himself feel.
With that knowledge in the forefront of his mind, Simon worked long into the night, long after Mark had taken off to be with his own wife and daughter.
As he loaded more footage, he had to stop several times when images of those last few months with Gabby kept slipping into his mind. He’d never let himself dwell on them at the time, or take them out and examine them after she had died.
Images of her wasting away to nothing, unable to eat because of the chemo-induced nausea.
Gabby crying from the pain. Sitting on her mother’s lap, holding on to her for all she was worth as Amanda did everything she could to keep the nightmares—and the Grim Reaper—at bay.
Picture after picture after picture came to him as he tried to bury himself once again in work. The images weren’t all sad, and maybe that was
“Sure.” Simon cued the footage and it started at the beginning. He had only about twenty-eight minutes of the forty-seven-minute documentary laid down, and about five of those weren’t yet set in stone. But as he watched the scenes play out in front of him, he couldn’t help nodding. Already the voice-over parts were weaving themselves together in his head. His crew had done a good job.
He glanced at Mark, intending to congratulate him, but saw that his cameraman had tears in his eyes as he watched the screen. Of course, Mark caught him looking and flushed a little. He was obviously embarrassed, but he didn’t say anything. Neither did Simon. The stuff they were watching was tough, some of it almost impossible to imagine despite the fact that they had been there.
That was the whole point of the special, to bring the reality of life over there into people’s living rooms. To touch them, to make them think. To help them understand.
He should be proud of what he’d done, proud of what they’d all done. He could see that Mark was. And Simon supposed that he was, as well. But that satisfaction was cushioned by the detachment he always felt, by the buffer he kept between himself and the people he reported on.
If he was honest, he would admit that it was the same buffer he’d kept between himself and Amanda all these years. The same buffer he’d kept between himself and Gabby, though she was his daughter and he had loved her very much. He hadn’t allowed himself to show that love, at least not in the way that other fathers did.
Oh, he’d brought her things from all over the world, had taken her to amusement parks and movies and even on vacation to Hawaii, though she’d been too young to appreciate the beauty of the island. But he’d never been very demonstrative, never been one to hug her unless she hugged him first and expected it in return. Never been one to think about her when he was away from her.
Not like Amanda, who had let so much of her life revolve around their little girl. When Gabby was a baby, Amanda had turned her whole life around to stay in the States and work until Gabby was a year old and able to go with her to Jamaica and Mexico and Haiti.
And when Gabby had gotten sick, Amanda had turned into a tiger mom. She’d rushed their daughter back to the States, called in every favor she could from the best oncologists in the country, all in an effort to make Gabby well. She’d put her whole career, her whole life, on hold for their daughter.
Unlike him. Simon had rushed in with toys and sympathy, but had never managed to stick around for the hard stuff. For the aftermath of the chemo appointments, the bone-marrow transplant that didn’t take, the last weeks and days as Gabby faded quietly away.
It had hurt him when his daughter had died. But he hadn’t let it devastate him or even slow him down. He hadn’t allowed his heart to break. Not the way Amanda’s had.
God, he really was an utter failure as a human being, so concerned with being in control that he never really let himself feel.
With that knowledge in the forefront of his mind, Simon worked long into the night, long after Mark had taken off to be with his own wife and daughter.
As he loaded more footage, he had to stop several times when images of those last few months with Gabby kept slipping into his mind. He’d never let himself dwell on them at the time, or take them out and examine them after she had died.
Images of her wasting away to nothing, unable to eat because of the chemo-induced nausea.
Gabby crying from the pain. Sitting on her mother’s lap, holding on to her for all she was worth as Amanda did everything she could to keep the nightmares—and the Grim Reaper—at bay.
Picture after picture after picture came to him as he tried to bury himself once again in work. The images weren’t all sad, and maybe that was
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