Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 95107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
“Impossible. We have a contract. And we’ve already put a significant investment in shooting this. People, equipment.”
“I understand that, and I’m sorry.”
He searches my expression. “Where’s this coming from, Garrett? Tell me what the problem is, and I’ll work it out.”
Over the years I’ve imagined how this conversation would go. Or a hundred like it. When I finally ripped the veil of this charade. In college it wasn’t so difficult, because I didn’t have a lot riding on it. But I’m not some unknown college hockey player anymore. I’m in the national spotlight. Now, my career and my image are at stake. The support and respect of my peers.
So for lack of the right way to say it, I just say it.
“My father abused me as a child.”
Alarm flashes in Collins’s eyes. “Oh,” is all he says, and he waits for me to continue.
Despite my itching discomfort, I do.
I’m not sure I even hear myself when I explain how my dad beat, manipulated, and scared me, barely scratching the surface of his cruelty. It’s bitter and painful coming out. But like a splinter that’s been under the skin so long, you forgot it didn’t belong there, the relief is immediate and overwhelming.
For several seconds, the producer is silent. Then he slips off his desk and takes a seat in the chair beside mine.
“Hell, Garrett. I don’t know what to say. This is…”
I don’t answer. I don’t need his sympathy or pity, just his understanding.
But of course, I wouldn’t be sitting next to someone in the entertainment industry without them trying to spin it for their own benefit.
“Would you be willing to address this in an interview? Forget what we’ve already shot. That’s scrapped. Consider it in the dumpster.” Collins tips his head. “But if it’s something you’re interested in…”
I laugh hoarsely. “Am I interested in telling the world the salacious details of my childhood physical abuse?” I feel sick just thinking about it.
But I underestimate Collins. Yes, he’s definitely trying to use this to his professional advantage, but the suggestion might not be entirely selfish, as he softens his voice and says, “I had a similar experience growing up. Not my dad.” His gaze flicks to mine. “My mother. She wasn’t a good lady, let me tell you. But you want to know the craziest part? Every time one of my teachers called social services and they sent someone to our house to investigate, I lied. I covered for my mother because I was too embarrassed to admit she was hurting me.”
I let out a breath. “Damn.”
“Yeah.” Collins rubs a hand over his chin. “Anyway. Nowadays, if I had the chance, I think I’d say something. But I don’t have a platform and nobody gives a shit who I am. You, on the other hand…” He shrugs. “You’ve got a name and a platform. You could take this crappy piece of your past and try to squeeze some good out of it.”
The words give me pause. I’ve protected Phil Graham’s legacy for so long, but why the hell should I keep doing it? Why am I so afraid of what the world will think?
And what would it say about me as a father if I continued to bury something like this? If I didn’t set a better example for my son and then someday someone hurt him, and he was too embarrassed and ashamed to tell me?
There are kids out there, adults, who are still living with these same scars. If I can help some of them overcome their fears, then yeah, I can make the sacrifice and suffer a couple of hours on camera pulling open the wounds.
“Yeah.” I lick my suddenly dry lips. “Let’s do it.”
“You sure?” Collins says, a glimmer of admiration in his eyes.
I nod. “Call Landon to set up a day and time.”
God help me, but it’s time to officially sever the cord between me and the past.
At home later, after I break the news to Hannah, she’s maybe more surprised at my decision than I am.
“I can’t believe you agreed to do it,” she marvels, her head in my lap while we watch TV on the couch.
“Trust me, I’m not exactly looking forward to it, but I think I have to do this. You were right. It’s time.”
“Are you going to tell your dad?”
“Nope.”
“Good.”
Picturing him throwing a glass of scotch across the room at the television when he finds out what’s coming for him does get me a little more enthused about the idea.
Hannah sits up to snuggle into my shoulder. “This is a big thing.”
“Yeah, kind of.”
“I’m really proud of you.”
I kiss the top of her head, holding her tighter.
“So proud,” she repeats.
Those words mean more to me than she’ll ever understand. Truth is, I wouldn’t have gotten this far without her. She was the first person who helped me find some kind of peace with my past, and it’s with her support I’ve found my way to the courage to confront it.