The Family Fang - Kevin Wilson [133]
“You make it seem like, regardless of whether it’s a good or bad idea, you’ll be terrified when it happens,” Annie said. “The only difference is what comes after.”
“I guess so,” Buster admitted. “I don’t know what I’m talking about, though. I’ve written a novel about kids beating each other into comas with the broken-off end of a rake. I have poor instincts.”
“I think Lucy is in love with me,” Annie said.
“I see,” Buster responded and then remained quiet for a few seconds. “So this is why you asked me about Suzanne? You’re interested in a possibly successful case study involving Fang romance?”
“I guess.”
“Are you a lesbian?” Buster asked.
“Maybe. I don’t know.” She thought about how she had categorized her experience with Minda Laughton as an unqualified disaster, including the decision to be with another woman. But Minda did not seem like a worthy representative of the lesbian experience. Her psychosis excluded her from the sample study.
“It seems like maybe you should figure that out before you have sex with your director.”
“I guess. I don’t know.”
“She is pretty cool though,” Buster admitted. “And she’s pretty.”
“What do you think I’m going to do?” she asked him.
“Whatever it is,” he answered, “I think you’ll be terrified when it happens. Don’t let that stop you.”
It was freezing cold, snow swirling in the air, and Annie and the four children stood in front of a space heater in their trailer, holding on to each other for warmth, to prepare themselves for their final, reckless act. “I really like you, Annie,” Jake said. “I wish this movie wasn’t almost over. I’ll have to go back to school and the teachers won’t be as much fun as you are.” Isabel was starting to cry, and Annie stroked her hair. “We’re not done yet,” Annie told them. “We still get to do this scene, and it’s going to be amazing.” Isabel rubbed her eyes and considered Annie’s statement. “It is going to be pretty cool,” she admitted.
Because they couldn’t actually set the house on fire, not with their meager budget, Lucy and the DP and the set designer and some of the special effects guys had decided that they would simply build a gigantic bonfire, obscure the action behind a dense, wooded area, and allow for the final shot, of Annie striding along the highway with the children in tow, to still maintain that sense of a massive conflagration, everything that these characters were leaving behind.
One of the crew knocked on the door of the trailer and Annie and the children walked outside, the cold instantly sinking under their skin. The children were juggling dozens of heating packets, their bare feet stuffed inside shoes with so much fur lining it seemed like an animal had been turned inside out. Lucy knelt in front of the children and explained how the shot would work, how they would arrange themselves around Annie. “Remember to stay as close to Annie as you can get,” she told the children. “She is the only person who really loves you and if she slips away from you, there’s nothing else that will save you.” She then leaned against Annie and said, “You just walk away from that fire and don’t look back.”
They could just barely see the pyre from where they were located on the edge of the woods, but Annie and the children strained to watch as the wood, doused in accelerants, was sparked to life, a fireball erupting into the air. They could feel the warmth rush through the trees and blow past them. “Ahhh,” said Caitlin, “that’s nice.” Someone signaled for Annie and she helped the children shuck off their coats, kick away their boots, and when Lucy shouted “Action,” Annie, carrying Caitlin in her arms, the other children grabbing onto Annie’s clothes, emerged from the dense woods and stepped onto the highway. Annie knew there was a fire behind her; she could hear that popping and sizzling of the wood giving up its shape, burning white-hot, turning to ash. She planted her feet, one in front of the other, Caitlin’s arms heavy around her neck, and she guided the children down a road that seemed as