Page 35 of The Cut
His phone buzzed: a text from Lars.
What the hell have you done?
137
23
DECEMBER 2023
There was nothing unusual about the wall of photographs stuck to the whiteboard in lines with tiny magnets. On each photo, a black Sharpie had scribbled a date and time code. In tiny writing was a description, a ‘headline’, of what was happening and why. To the everyday person, it might have seemed obsessive. It was like the quintessential scene in a police procedural with the map and the red string, linking all the suspects together with photographs and Post-it notes. Editing a film like this was painstaking. At this point, the narrative was very much in flux. Of course, he knew how it ended, they both did.
The iPhone shots were jumpy and had a feeling of urgency, but the interviews along the found footage would balance the film with a much more grounded tone. The assembly so far was fragmented. It was like placing the corners and then slowly finding the edges of a thousand-piece jigsaw puzzle. There was just a vague outline to begin with, the skeleton of a narrative in which to thrust the cast of characters, waiting to find their place in the big picture. It would all climax into some CGI bloodbath but that would come later.
Max took a beat, then pulled up a shot from his Dropbox that Mickelsen had sent over.
The clapper board loaded. ‘Roll A005 Scene 240 Take 7. Mark it.’
On screen, the surface of a dark river, splattering in the driving rain, reflected the quivering chimney stack of Blackstone Mill,138casting a long shadow across the cascading water to the riverbank. Max clenched his jaw. He exhaled, gathering himself, then paused the roll, zooming in closer. He wrote a note on the side bar.
We’llneedastuntriderandincorporateaPOVdroneshot. Wide and high.
The door to the basement cutting room cracked open, spilling light into the den, and the padding of Cocoa’s feet on the concrete pulled Max out of his work. Charlie chased close behind.
‘Dada, can Cocoa and me go in the sprinklers?’ Charlie had anticipated a ‘yes’ by changing into a pair of yellow swim shorts with pineapples and bananas printed all over them. He was wearing snorkel goggles with the air pipe dangling from the side of his ear as he stuffed a whole Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup into his mouth.
Max laughed out loud. ‘All right, Jacques Cousteau, how deep do you think you’re going?’
Charlie was staring at the screen.
‘What’s that?’
‘It’s a weir.’ Max held his arm out to Charlie, offering a cuddle.
‘What’s weird about it?’ Charlie looked confused and Cocoa trotted over to lick his hand.
Max chuckled. ‘Well … it’s all covered with slippy green slime and it’s really deep.’ He bent down to tickle Charlie, picking him up and holding him tight as his skinny body squirmed and wriggled in his arms. Charlie leant into Max’s neck.
‘Can we pleeeaaase go in the pool?’ The puppy-dog eyes from both his son and an actual puppy dog were impossible to say no to.
‘You’ll have to be quick. Papa’ll be here soon.’
Charlie slipped out of Max’s arms and sprinted up the stairs, Cocoa haring after him. Max grabbed a towel from the hall cupboard on the way up, before hearing the splash into the deep139end. His stomach lurched. Somewhere in the back of his mind, an old fear resurfaced. Deep water, dark and murky. His knees softened slightly and his feet tingled on the polished porcelain floor. He paused for a second, waiting to hear laughter, but there was only silence, then Cocoa started barking uncharacteristically.
‘Charlie?’ Max raced up the stairs, almost slipping face down on the stone steps. Cocoa was racing round and round the pool in an absolute frenzy, barking at the surface, back and forth.
Charlie was face down in the middle of the pool. Max ran over as Cocoa dived into the water and swam towards the body now sinking to the bottom.
‘Charlie!’
As Max reached the water’s edge, Charlie suddenly exploded up out of the water between a giant inflatable flamingo and a slice of watermelon.
‘I found buried treasure.’ He spat out a mouthful of water and lifted his goggles, holding something aloft. The pair of yellow swim shorts he had been wearing, helicoptered over his head, spraying Max with water. Charlie was laughing his head off. Max closed his eyes and exhaled, allowing himself to get drenched in the spray and smiling in relief.
They were abruptly interrupted by the honk of Brandon’s car horn. ‘Quick, come on. Papa’s here. Go on in and dry off.’ Charlie scuttled out of the water naked, trying to get one foot into his shorts, hopping around on the other. ‘Charlie, please stop messing around, you’ll get me into trouble!’
‘Having fun?’
Max turned, water dripping from his face and staining his white linen shirt and shorts with huge transparent blotches. Brandon, with a face like thunder and a tone to match, was140checking his watch. He dumped a huge box of See’s Candies down on to the table.
