“And how does Ryder feel about being part of this journey?”
Ryder had remained relatively closemouthed since his accident, but Wyatt suspected he still missed—yearned for—his old life and the dreams forever lost to him. Those dreams didn’t need to die, though. Ryder only needed to revise his role in the sport. “Ryder’s injuries keep him off the competition circuit, but he can still play a valuable role in the sport as a coach, or a spokesperson, or in some other capacity.” Truthfully, Ryder’s enthusiasm had ebbed and flowed over the past months. The doctors had warned them all that mood regulation would be a lifelong battle now, so Wyatt did his best to discount Ryder’s temper and keep him moving forward to reclaim his life. “I’m not the smartest guy, but I know, together, my brother and I can accomplish anything. He’s part of my return, both as motivation and as support.”
What Wyatt kept to himself was how much he missed their old relationship. Now Ryder kept everyone at arm’s length. Snowboarding had always been a way for them to connect. Hopefully working together on this film would break down his brother’s emotional wall and reunite them.
And if Wyatt could make all that happen for Ryder, maybe his mom would forgive him for getting his brother into snowboarding years ago. Maybe Wyatt could even forgive himself.
“I think that’s good for now. Let’s head outside and get those shots. Maybe you and Ryder could be walking up the steps together, tapping on the wooden sign hanging from the porch, and so on. Then I’m thinking we might get a quick sound bite from Andy, who seemed rather excited to see you here.”
“Guess I’ll go grab Ryder while you all get set up then?” Wyatt stood and Mari waved him off before she started talking movie lingo with the crew.
Wyatt rapped on Ryder’s door. “You up?”
He heard a thump, which he presumed was Ryder’s cane. Three thumps later, the door opened.
“What?” Darkened lenses shielded Ryder’s eyes; his expression lacked any animation.
“Mari needs us to film a couple of outside shots. Shouldn’t take too long.”
“Me, too? But you’re the s-star.”
Wyatt didn’t hear contempt, but he couldn’t help but wonder. Ryder’s speech now had a carefully modulated tone that made it difficult to decipher his intention and mood.
“This is our film, Ryder, just like we planned. You can raise awareness of TBI, maybe raise some research money to help others who’ve suffered like you.”
Ryder nodded without much enthusiasm. “Okay.” He closed the door to his room and followed Wyatt.
Before the accident, his brother had laughed easily, jabbed at Wyatt often, and preened for the cameras. Although Wyatt should be grateful for how far his brother had come, he couldn’t help but wish for the return of his old personality.
That’s why this plan had to succeed. He wouldn’t give up when it came to helping restore his brother’s life. To restoring some kind of happiness. So far, however, he’d seen no sign of change.
When they stepped outside, Mari called them down to the walkway. Wyatt remained close to Ryder in case the ice caused any trouble.
Mari handed Wyatt a sheet of paper entitled “Intro” containing typewritten text.
“I took the liberty of writing up a short introductory statement you might want to make while Jim films you and your brother walking up to the inn. Feel free to ad lib. We want it to appear natural. Going forward, we’ll try to get as many candid shots as possible, but in this case we need to backtrack a bit. Try to be honest about your first impressions about the place, the feeling you had—in terms of goals—as we pulled into the parking lot, and so on.” Mari offered an encouraging smile. “Do you need a minute or two?”
“Give us a sec to work out a thing or two.”
“Oh,” Mari said, eyebrows rising. “It’s not necessary for Ryder to do much talking.”
That message wouldn’t help Ryder feel comfortable committing to the project.
“It is for me.” Wyatt wrapped a protective arm around Ryder’s shoulder and began speaking quietly. Once they’d agreed on a plan, he turned his attention back to Mari. “We’re all set.”
Her tight-lipped smile revealed her discomfort, although to her credit, she held her tongue. “Fine. Remember, although you can glance at each other occasionally, you want to look at the camera when speaking with the audience.”
And thus began thirty minutes of blocking and retakes before Mari was satisfied that she had enough material to work with.
A Weenuche Inn van, worn as everything else about the place, pulled into the parking lot. From the corner of his eye, Wyatt watched Emma emerge from the driver’s seat and unload bags of groceries. She strung them along her arms to the point of tipping over. He turned, prepared to go help her, when Mari snapped her fingers. “Wyatt, Ryder, let’s go inside and get some more shots. We need to keep to the schedule, please.”