Long time & No Talk

8

Everything feels like it's in slow motion. My brain doesn't register it right away. Flashes surround me as I fly backward and then—holy fuck—pain. It's like a shock, every nerve ending in my body screaming as I slam into the asphalt. Blackness.

I'm blinking, but I can't make out much. People are yelling all around me. My head is pounding. Their words are vibrating inside my skull and I want them all to shut the fuck up. Police lights and sirens, paparazzi cameras flashing, panicked screams from someone.

I try to sit up but something warm runs down my face, soaking my white shirt. I look down at it. Blood. The sight makes me woozy. Whoa. My vision goes black and then Koko is there. I hear him before I see him hear his warbled voice before his face greets me. "Take it easy, Sanzu. Don't move. We've got help coming."

He looks worried. I wasn't worried. I wasn't... until I looked at him. "Is she okay?" I ask, my chest aching. "Who?" he asks. "The girl," I say. "She was in the street. There was a car coming. I don't know. Is she...?"

"Everyone's fine," he says, glancing around before turning back to me. "They're freaked out, but nobody else is bleeding. What were you thinking?" "That she was gonna get hit by a car." "So you took her place? Jesus, Sanzu you're taking this superhero business way too personally."

I laugh at that. It hurts. I close my eyes and grit my teeth. Where is that goddamn help? You're lucky. That's what the doctor said to me.

It's your lucky day. But as I lay in the stark white hospital bed in the dim private room, surrounded by people I don't care to look at, with security posted at every corner as phones ring and ring and fucking ring, I don't feel very lucky.

This day has become unimaginably worse. Severe concussion. Laceration to the temple. Broken right wrist. Bruised ribs. Besides an array of cuts and scrapes, swelling in places that aren't happy about this shit, that's all that seems to be wrong with me.

So maybe I am lucky, but the voices all around me right now don't think so. My manager, a studio exec, the movie director, and a shitload of PR cram into the room, hashing out details of how to handle this nightmare.

My lawyer is here somewhere. I remember seeing him earlier. They're worried about lawsuits and insurance quotes and how this is going to impact production, but I'm more worried about this sensation flowing through my veins at the moment.

It's the middle of the night, and my head is swimming, my stomach is queasy. I'm uneasy. My legs keep tingling and I feel like I'm starting to float outside of my body.

Whatever drug they're pumping into my IV is strong. Too strong. I'm going numb. It's been a long time since I've felt nothing. I press the call button, over and over until the nurse bursts in, shoving her way past the crowd of suits to reach the bed.

Koko slips away from the others, approaching. "Whatever this is," I say, motioning to the IV bags, "I need to be taken off of it." "The morphine?" the nurse asks with confusion, setting her hand on my shoulder. "Honey, you're going to want that.

You'll be hurting without it." "I can handle the pain," I say. "Not so sure about the drugs." She looks even more confused now, so Koko chimes in. "Mr. Sanzu is in recovery, so anything feel-good is problematic if you get my drift." "Oh, well, I'll speak to the doctor," she says.

"We'll see what we can do." I close my eyes as she rushes away. Regret hits me, gripping tight, a voice in my mind saying tell her you've made a mistake, but that's the addict in me screaming out, the pathetic son of a bitch that gets off on the numbness.

That gets off on forgetting. But goddamn, the sensation feels good. Maybe I'll enjoy it for just a little while. I open my eyes again when Koko nudges me, holding his Blackberry out, and I glance at the screen, reading the headline of a news article.

When Fiction Meets Reality Superhero-Actor Saves Girl I don't read any further. "You'll be down for a while," Koko says. "They'll rearrange the shoots, do what they can do without you there. Production hopes to pick back up with you sometime before summer. " Summer. It's barely Spring right now. "What am I supposed to do until then?" "Go easy on this superhero nonsense, for starters.

Take a vacation. Go sit on a beach somewhere surrounded by beautiful women. The point is to rest. Relax. Recover. When's the last time you even had any fun?" "Fun." I consider that. "Does jumping in front of a car count?"