STS Ch-40

Bill, the editor of Friday the 13th, leaned back in his chair with the kind of pride only a veteran could carry. The small editing room around us was the first time I had been in a setup like this, and I was beyond excited to learn something new. Reels of film were stacked in metal cans along the walls, giving the place a faint smell of celluloid and dust.

“Film editing is the most crucial part of making a movie,” Bill said passionately. His voice echoed a little in the cramped space. “I can’t stress this enough. Most movies are made during the editing process. What you did on set was just filming scenes. I’ll be the one arranging those scenes, so they make sense. So whatever you do, never piss off your editor.”

I laughed at his dramatic warning.

Sean didn’t. He rolled his eyes and muttered, “Yeah, yeah, the kid got it. Now, can we actually get into the fucking thing? We’ve got a busy month ahead, and it’s better if we get as much out of him as possible.”

Bill shot him a deadpan look. “You’re a sourpuss who sucks the joy out of everything. How the fuck did you become a filmmaker?”

“By putting my own dollar bills on the line,” Sean fired back. “Just like the ones I’ll be paying you when you finish your job.”

Bill ignored him like he’d done it a thousand times before, then turned to me. “Before we start today, you’ve gotta know the process we follow for editing. First, we do an assembly cut. That’s where we arrange the scenes shot and approved by you two here on this Steenbeck.”

He patted the large blue machine in front of us. Multiple spinning disks were attached to its surface, and the twin monitors at its head were turned on, waiting for footage to play and edit.

“I’ve already started this step, and I’m more than halfway done. I’ll show you that cut so you know what we’re working with, or if you want some changes. It should take about two weeks to finish the rest of this step. Got that?”

Sean used to send film rolls to Bill every week, so it made sense that he’d already begun with his job to save time.

I nodded for him to go on.

“Next, we refine that rough cut into a finer one. We’ll manually cut the film to remove unnecessary frames that drag the pacing or don’t add anything. Since this is a horror slasher, the jumpscares matter, so we can’t rush those moments. It’s also possible we won’t like the director-approved take, and we might use one of the rejected ones instead. And then, after that, we get to the final cut and—”

“That’s all the time Noah will have,” Sean interrupted, slicing the explanation short. “He’ll leave before we even get to the final cut, so let’s not dwell on what happens afterwards.”

“But I’d still like to know,” I said. “Even if it’s just for my own interest.”

“Then do it later when Bill’s free,” Sean said in a tone that brooked no argument. “Post-production takes way too long to explain. It could take a whole day just walking you through it, and even then, you won’t understand it without doing it in person. We’re short on time, so let’s get moving.”

I didn’t like it, but he was being practical, so I kept quiet. Bill must’ve realised he couldn’t keep the impromptu lecture going, because he turned back to the Steenbeck and switched the monitors on.

The rough cut flickered to life, half the film stitched together in its rawest form, waiting to be shaped into something real.

The moment the footage started playing, I immediately noticed how the sound had already been synced with the video. In the twenty-first century, the process had become automatic, but here we recorded sound and picture on completely different devices.

“The sound is in sync,” I stated the obvious.

Bill nodded. “Got my assistant to do it before we got into the main thing. It’s the most tedious part of editing, but also the easiest once you get into the rhythm. All you have to do is follow the clapperboard sound and attach it to the video of the same.”

As the scenes rolled by, I finally understood why this version was considered rough. Bill had arranged every shot in full, without trimming anything. Sometimes the camera lingered on a prop or a face longer than it should have. Sometimes there were long, awkward pauses between lines, the kind that sucked all momentum out of a moment.

And then came my first sex scene of the movie.

God, that was awful. I had no idea how anyone could turn that monstrosity into something remotely erotic. From what I could see, it was stiff, uncomfortable, and painful to watch. I cringed at myself, wondering how I had ever felt confident filming it.

“That’s some good stuff,” Bill said, nudging me with a teasing grin. “You’ll be a superstar once this is out.”

“It’s the worst sex scene in the history of sex scenes,” I muttered. “I hate it.”

“By the time I’m done with it, you’ll love it,” Bill said confidently. “I’ll make you look like a superhero fucking the love of his life. It may not look that hot now, but with correct editing, it can be better than even porn. Trust me.”

I didn’t, but I didn’t argue. Maybe miracles happened in editing.

“That’s all the scenes we’ve arranged,” Bill said once the footage stopped. The monitors flickered to black. “Now let’s start with the next scene, where the kids are playing cards.”

He loaded up the reels, and soon he was showing every version of the card scene, one after another. Before I knew it, the three of us were leaning over the Steenbeck, absorbed in comparing takes, arguing about line deliveries, and choosing what worked best. It was slow, meticulous work, but I finally understood why editing took so long. Every tiny element mattered. Every reaction, every pause, every angle needed to be considered before a scene could be approved. Sometimes, different parts of different takes were used to enhance the scene into perfection.

I liked to think we’d shot a good movie, but now that I was seeing it raw, all I could notice were mistakes. At times, it almost looked like a parody of what we meant to make.

Let’s just hope that by the time Bill is done with it, it won’t look so bad.

(Break)

I stood in front of the house where my siblings were staying temporarily, staring at the quiet porch light glowing above the door. It hit me hard that Zach and Daisy, the two people I loved more than anyone else in the world, would be going to the other side of the country with a woman I didn’t trust with them at all.

I hesitated for a couple of minutes, trying to steady my breathing, before finally ringing the bell. The door opened almost immediately, and before I could register anything, Daisy crashed into me, wrapping her arms tight around my waist like she never planned to let go.

“I missed you,” she whispered into my ear. Her voice trembled. “Why are you so late?”

“I missed you, too, Dee.” I rubbed the back of her head gently, falling into her childhood nickname without thinking. “I was working. I’m helping edit my second film, and it’s exhausting. I came here as soon as I was done.”

She pulled back and gave me a beaming smile. “It doesn’t matter. You’re here now. Come in.”

Before I could reply, she grabbed my wrist and dragged me inside. Zach stood in the hallway, shifting nervously from foot to foot, his hands tucked awkwardly into the pockets of his jeans.

“Hey, bro,” he said.

I didn’t waste a second. I pulled him into a hug, and this time he didn’t resist like he usually did. He hugged me back tightly. He never showed emotion as easily as Daisy, but I could tell he’d missed me just as much, maybe even more.

“Noah.”

The voice made me turn. I let go of Zach and looked at the woman standing nearby. For a moment, I forgot how to breathe. She was older than the last time I’d seen her, but there was no mistaking my own mother. She stood in the hallway with perfect posture, dressed in a soft yellow sundress that fell to her knees. A pearl necklace sat neatly around her neck, catching the dim light.

“Mom,” I said curtly. “Or should I call you Gloria now?”

She looked offended, clearly not expecting that.

“It’s Mom,” she said quietly but firmly.

“Whatever you say.”

She hesitated, then gestured toward the living room. “Why don’t you come in? Zach and Daisy have told me a lot about you and your movie career. I’d love to get to know you again after all these years.”

My younger self wanted to scream at her, wanted to unload years of anger and abandonment right into her face. I had a hundred things I wanted to say, none of them polite. But my older self pushed all of that down. I followed her into the room.

As I stepped inside, I took in the house. It wasn’t as big as my new place, but it was much nicer than the one Dad lived in. From the furniture to the interior design, everything was top-notch and screamed luxury. Part of me couldn’t shake the feeling that this house was meant to send a message to him, proof that Mom could now afford better. Or maybe it was a tactic to convince my siblings that life would be nicer with her.

Once I sat on the couch, Daisy immediately took the seat beside me and curled into my shoulder as she used to when she was small. I slipped my arm around her without even thinking. I had two siblings, but it was no secret to anyone, including me, that I loved Daisy just a little more.

“Where’s your husband?” I asked, noticing the man was nowhere in sight.

“He just stepped out to get some groceries,” Mom said. “He’ll be back soon.”

That seemed to loosen her up, because she kept talking without hesitation.

“Your siblings tell me you’ve become a movie star now. That’s wonderful. LA is the heart of Hollywood, and it would be perfect if you moved there. We could all be a family again, and then—”

“Wait.” I raised a hand to stop her. “Before you go ahead planning a future that may or may not ever happen, I need to ask you something.”

She blinked, surprised, but covered it with a polite smile. “Sure, honey. Ask me anything.”

“Why the fuck did you leave us?” I didn’t bother sugarcoating it. “And even if you did, why the fuck didn’t you ever contact me in the last ten years? Don’t give me the bullshit excuse you gave the court, or I’ll walk right out of here.”

“Can you at least mind your language?” she snapped softly. “We have kids here.”

“Believe me, they hear worse at school,” I said flatly. “Don’t change the topic. We can’t have any kind of relationship if you’re not honest with me.”

Mom fidgeted, rubbing her palms against her knees, her eyes darting to Zach and Daisy. “Can we… at least let the kids go to their rooms? I’ll tell you privately.”

I shook my head. “They’re old enough to know why their mother left them before they even started preschool. If you don’t tell them now, I’ll tell them later.”

She let out a long, exhausted sigh and lowered her face into her hands. For a moment, I thought she wouldn’t answer at all. But then she straightened slowly.

“I didn’t abandon them. Or you. I just…” She paused, breathing deeply as if gathering courage.

I stayed quiet and waited.

After a few moments, she lifted her head and met my eyes. “Your dad adored you three. You were his entire world. But he wasn’t the best to me. Before I explain anything, you need some context about my life before I married your father.”

I nodded, signaling her to go on.

“As you know now, you aren’t John’s biological son,” she said carefully. “I was a young girl who wanted to enjoy my life without worrying about the consequences. I met this incredible surfer, the most charming and beautiful man I’d ever seen with those ocean blue eyes, and I… well, you know what happened.”

She gestured toward me.

“When my parents found out I was pregnant out of wedlock, they forced me to get an abortion. I was only 17. I didn’t want it, but I didn’t have a say in anything. It was illegal then, but they didn’t care. Their reputation mattered more than I did. They set an appointment and arranged everything. A day before the procedure, I ran away from home. John found me crying at a bus stop, and I told him everything. He was ten years older than me, but I’d known him since childhood. We were neighbors, you see. He offered to take responsibility for both you and me, and I agreed. He was my only option to save you.”

She paused, overwhelmed by the memory. A few tears slipped down her cheeks. I glanced at Zach and Daisy, both of them watching her like their entire world was hidden in her next words.

“Okay, so you didn’t love him,” I said when she finally steadied herself. “I understand why you divorced him. But that still doesn’t explain why you abandoned us for more than ten years. Did you hate us too?”

“Never.” Her answer came instantly. “I could never hate any of you. Even if you hate me, I won’t. I can’t.”

She wiped her cheeks and took a breath. “Your father offered to marry me, but my parents refused to accept the marriage. The only reason they didn’t take action against him was because he threatened to report them to the police for the forced abortion. Still, they cut all ties with me. We couldn’t get married in California because of the laws there, so we came to New York for a fresh start. The age of consent here was 17. John’s parents had passed away, but he had friends and his siblings here who helped us get on our feet.”

A small smile tugged at her mouth as she remembered the next part.

“Then you were born. You lit up my world in a way nothing else ever had. I loved you more than anything. But I was a bad mother.” Her smile faded. “I couldn’t handle babies. I’d forget to feed you on time or burp you. I could never get you to stop crying. John handled everything so well. He was a natural. When he asked for another child, I said no.”

She turned to the twins with an apologetic expression. “I love both of you more than you know, but try to see it from my side back then.”

Oh. So that’s why she wanted them gone before explaining any of this.

“He kept insisting,” she continued. “Eventually, I gave in, and I got two more angels. I tried to be better. I really did. But John didn’t believe me. He thought I couldn’t handle all three of you, and he started pointing out every tiny mistake. We fought constantly. And he’d wait until you were all asleep before lecturing me about something his mother used to do that I couldn’t. I could never be her, and I couldn’t take it anymore.”

She took a slow breath before continuing. “That’s when I met someone else. He was understanding and gentle. He loved me in a way I’d never experienced. But he was only in New York temporarily for work. He offered to help me leave John, come with him to LA, and even promised a job. It was the hardest decision of my life, but for the first time, I chose something for myself. I thought about taking you all with me, but I knew how good a father John was. So I left you with him.”

That was a lot to take in, and on some level, I could understand why she did what she did, but it still didn’t answer my original question.

As if she’d read my mind, Mom continued, her voice soft but steady. “I wanted to come back to you all every single day. I wanted to set things right and take you with me, but I just couldn’t muster the courage to face you after what I had done. It took me two whole years to finally come and meet you, but I chose a time when you were all in school, and John was at home. He didn’t appreciate me showing up, and we had another fight. It escalated into a shouting match on the street, and the neighbors had to step out of their homes to calm us down.”

Mom’s eyes dropped to her hands. “He said he wouldn’t give up any of you and refused to let me see you. I didn’t want you to get dragged into a nasty custody battle, so I pushed for him to sign the divorce papers, and then I left. I hate myself every day for that decision, but I truly thought I had no choice at the time.”

I closed my eyes and rubbed my temple, trying to ease the headache I knew was creeping in. I didn’t know what to believe anymore. My father had sounded sincere when he told me his version of events, and now I couldn’t detect any lies from my mother either. I think both were lying by omission. I didn’t know whose side to take, or if there even was a side.

“Why now?” I asked quietly, forcing myself to meet her eyes. “What changed now?”

She smiled, a small, bittersweet curve that hinted at years of longing. “It was fate, really. I found out you’d become an actor, and I was so happy for you. I searched for you some more and came across an ad of yours in one of the magazines. You’d grown up, but I’d know those ocean–blue eyes anywhere. They’re the same eyes your biological father had, the thing that made him stand out from everyone else.”

More confirmation that Poseidon really was my biological father. Everything lined up perfectly.

“I wanted to know what pushed you toward modeling,” Mom said. “I knew how much John hated anything even remotely close to showbiz. So I decided to check on you, but my husband convinced me it was better if I took custody of Zach and Daisy first. Unlike you, they don’t even know me. I know it’s my fault, all of it, but I want to correct my past mistakes. I was hoping you’d find it in your heart to forgive me someday. If not today, then eventually.”

I glanced at the twins. Their faces were soft and hopeful, and I could already tell they’d forgiven her. It was good in a way. They’d wanted a mother for as long as I could remember, and I’d never do anything to spoil that for them, even if I wasn’t ready to forgive her myself.

“That’s everything I have to say,” she said after a few quiet seconds. “If you have any questions, I’ll answer whatever you want.”

“Do you have any other kids?” I asked.

She shook her head. “We decided early on not to have more. My husband has children from a previous marriage, but they’re all older than you.” She paused for a bit before saying, “You’ve actually met him. Or so he told me.”

“I have?” I frowned. “I don’t remember.”

“I’ll let him explain when he gets back,” Mom said as she rose from her seat. “You must be starving since you came straight from work. Dinner is almost ready. Come join us.”

I opened my mouth to turn her down, but just then, the front door swung open, and a man stepped inside. His footsteps echoed lightly across the wooden floor as he shut the door behind him.

“Honey, kids, I’m home.”

I stared at him, completely stunned. Mom was right. I did know him. Standing in front of me, carrying a grocery bag and smiling at the family, was Frank Price, CEO of Columbia Pictures.