The Protector: Broken (working title)

Chapter 13: BROKEN

Once the shoot started everyone was too busy to be gossipy or whiney. I talked only briefly with Mark every day because we were doing 16 hour shifts. Sasha was on his best behavior as AD - I was actually quite impressed to see him in action. Mr. Warner's presence was a gift. He was like a father with me, a father like I had missed for so much of my life. He had been right on the mark with his interpretation of my dream. Sasha was appalled. He had a perfect childhood in Sweden; green pastures, playing in streams with the kids from the nearby farms. There were no child offenders in those neighborhoods. Anyone with so much as a playboy magazine would've been burned at the stake. It was too hard for him to fathom.

I tried to help with an analogy. I told him: "Take for example a beautiful vase. It gets broken. It can be glued back together, sure, and it can still be beautiful to look at, but you can still see the cracks...it will never be completely whole again. In my case, I was shattered into hundreds of tiny pieces and I've spent many years trying to put myself back together again." I was disheartened by the realization that even if I do get all the pieces back together...the web of cracks in my soul will always be there...I will never be completely whole...

We wrapped up our first shots in 5 days and the grips were tearing down the sets while the production crew and the cast got set for the next adventure – what we affectionately were calling our 'island hopping' week. A series of 3 different islands that, like Sasha said, I'd never heard of.

Sasha managed to not have us sit next to each other during the flight to the first island, wisely. It was only 5 hours long, and not all of us were going – the rest of the crew would be waiting for us in Australia in 7 days. They'd be building our biggest set. We flew in a smaller plane and arrived at the first island around mid afternoon. My first task was to round up volunteers for some crowd scenes in the small town. Surprisingly they all spoke English. Not so surprisingly, the men were pigs. I spent the afternoon apologizing to wives and explaining to bachelors and husbands alike I was NOT offering anything for sale.

"This is all I've got for now" I handed Sasha a sheet with the info of about 10 people "and there's some sort of club meeting tonight we need to send someone to because this guy here" I point to a name, "says the people there will be interested."

Sasha looks at my pathetic list. "The scenes supposed to have a large crowd; this is the best you could come up with?"

"Perhaps if I had a nose ring and a dick they'd take me more seriously."

Sasha burst out laughing. "You know, I could arrange that for you!"

"Honestly, Sasha, you'd think these men never get any around here, they just kept staring at my breasts like they wanted to get out a measuring tape" (I'm a 38 'D', which apparently is abnormal in these parts) "and asking me stupid things like 'so you're from Hollywood?' like all they watch is 'Debbie does' movies!"

"Actually, most porn is from Burbank. Did they ask you if you were from Burbank? Because then you should be worried!"

"Sasha, I'm serious, you need to send one of the guys, because" -

"Look, if you can't do your job, I can find someone else to do it. I have a perfect position for you, but it wouldn't be vertical..." he looked at me with a spark of challenge.

I looked back at him with all the disdain I could muster. Then I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, fighting off the desire to run away in tears. "I can't believe you."

"I'm just joking, can't you take a joke?" He continued to flip through a pile of papers casually.

I felt some courage well up in me. "I suppose you would find it funny when I told that joke to our executive producer, he could always use a good laugh. Or do you not find being slapped with sexual harassment funny?" Now I put my challenge look on.