Forty Years Young

The morning I woke up, forty years old, I sat in my bed. Slowly, I looked around the room. The small room, square in shape and surrounded by four walls with just enough space for a full-sized bed and my 22-inch screen TV mounted just above my dresser, was a perfect indication of who I was. I sat, deep in thought, for what seemed like several minutes…hours even…with the time flashing as quickly as my forty years of life.

What did I have to show for it? Nothing. What have I really accomplished? Nothing. What savings did I have? Why was my apartment so small? Why didn’t I own a house? What did I really have to show in forty years of life? The only thing I could come up with was I was there, alone and alive, forty years old. But it wasn’t good enough.

That morning started off at a snail’s pace, as you might imagine. Maybe I was alone in this thinking. Maybe I wasn’t. How do you open up and share these feelings of failure without delineating the reasons why or demoralizing yourself because the pride you feel – in some respects, but very little – is all you may have and you need to keep it.

That word – failure – scares everyone. It’s a reality that most people are afraid to admit. They use excuses like, “Oh, it wasn’t a failure. I just happened to get caught up in another project and was unable to finish it but I’ll get back to it,” or “Oh, it wasn’t fair because I didn’t understand it so that’s not on me.”

That was me. In a nutshell. I could look back on life and say there were some really great times. But the notion of being forty hit me harder than a brick because I had nothing. And it was a conversation piece for those who live in the “life is always good” and “be positive” moments to relish. They would say things like, “You are strong and healthy” or “You have a beautiful child that you raised.” But I have nothing to give her. I have failed because I knew that if I were to die the next day, she would have nothing. I would actually leave her in debt and thus ruin her life. So in essence, my failure grew bigger the more I analyzed it.

As I jumped in the shower that morning to get ready for work, this continued strongly in my mind. Driving to work, all I could think of was, “You have nothing. You have nothing.

You have nothing and you are forty years old.”

What’s worse is that it wasn’t something I could sit and talk with my friends about. They were all married, had lives of their own, jobs with strong security, and were genuinely happy. Why in God’s name would I bring that – my lack of self-worth, my saddened state of mind, and my depression – to their beautiful, happy lives? I’m not that type of person. Even if they were to ask me if everything was OK, I would tell them it was great and “life is good,” as I often quoted. But it really wasn’t. Not that day. Not for a long time. And I wasn’t sure if or when it would ever be good.

But before that becomes the makepeace of personal anguish, I need to backtrack:

It was a warm day in April when I was working at the store. The phone rang and I answered, “This is Ray, how may I help you today?”

The most quivering, excited, yet anxious voice on the other end screamed out, “Honey, it’s me. When will you be home?”

I laughed because the joy was tremendous.

“In about an hour. What’s going on?”

“Nothing my love. Just make sure you come straight home. I have some amazing news to share.”

Of course I wasn’t about to balk at the idea of making my way home directly after work. Now I was curious and excited, all the same.

On my trip home all I kept thinking was she just got promoted. She was now going to make more. She got accepted into her college. Her parents were moving down. Her sister was (finally) engaged. I couldn’t figure it out but I was sure it was one of those scenarios.

The moment I arrived and entered the house, Corinne darted around the corner and leaped into my arms.

“Hi baby. What in the world is going on,” I grunted as I worked to maintain my posture while holding her after leaping onto me.

“Oh nothing. Nothing at all. I just love you and miss you and…I just love you,” Corinne babbled as I walked with her, still in my arms, her legs wrapped around my waist, hugging and kissing me emphatically.

“Ok. Ok. What’s going on? I’m dying to know,” I said with a large amount of curiosity.

“Well, I’m not sure where to begin.”

“Just start from the top. Or tell me straight out. You’re keeping me on a limb here.”

She laughed the laugh that I knew so well and fell so deeply in love with. She acted like a five-year-old opening gifts on Christmas morning.

“Ok, close your eyes,” she said.

I closed my eyes and waited. I could hear some rustling. I could hear her footsteps rummaging back and forth across our laminate floors. They went faint, as it seemed like she walked away. Then they grew louder as if she had returned to the room.

“What’s going on? The suspense is killing me.”

All I could hear was, “Ok, now open them.”

I opened my eyes and she stood in front of me, grinning ear-to-ear. I looked all around but saw nothing.

“What is it,” I asked.

She continued to stand in front of me, grin-and-all. What I didn’t notice was that her hands were behind her back. She slowly pulled her left arm out from behind her back. Just as she did, I noticed it was a small teddy bear. I was a bit confused but continued to wait for the other hand to make itself present.

She slowly pulled her other arm from around her back. Just as she did, I recognized the device. It looked like a thermometer. It was by no means a thermometer. It was a pregnancy test and sure as the day it had a big, blue plus sign in the center.

I looked at it, knowing what it was, but playing dumb because I was in awe. I was in shock. I was going to have a child. I played the fool to her. “Honey, what is this,” I asked, perplexedly.

“Baby, look closer,” she said in her sweet, soft whisper.

I was going to be a Daddy. And as most men would be elated, I was not. Not at first. I was almost, in a sense, devastated. I know. Horrible response for a man to have when his woman is jumping for joy. But this wasn’t the plan. We weren’t expecting to have any kids yet. I was twenty-five years old. She was twenty-three. She was halfway through college and I was four months away from going back. I didn’t just feel awful that I wasn’t happy, I felt awful because all these selfish feelings came at me, like a giant bat that swung in my direction and hit me in the chest at full speed. What about my career? What about getting married? What about waiting until we are making money to afford this? All I could think was selfish, selfish, selfish. Not the better interest of the child, as should be done. No, not at all. I think in some respects, you can never be too prepared for a child. However, the hopes and dreams I had for my career were still far off and now, it was possible they would be thwarted for good.

“So, what are you thinking,” Corinne said, with an expression of concern on her face.

“Um, well, wow. I think I’m just very shocked right now.”

“Good shock or bad shock, Ray?”

“I’m not sure, Corinne. It wasn’t really planned and we…”

“How dare you, Ray! I told you months ago we should seek some form of birth control. You told me not to worry, that we would be just fine and that whatever happens, happens. We even argued about it and you convinced me we would be fine. Now you want to talk about planning? I don’t need you on this, understand that. I can do this without you then.”

Corinne jumped up and stormed off. There’s nothing quicker in this world to catch a man’s attention, especially after we say or react wrongly, than a woman who makes a bold statement that shakes us back to reality. Quickly, I jumped up and stopped her.

“Honey, whoa whoa whoa whoa. Wait a minute. This was done by two and will be cared for by two. I’m sorry. I was just sitting down yesterday thinking about our plans, you with your acting and me with finishing school to get my film degree, us moving together to California or New York so we can start our careers together. So this was a shock in that respect, not because I care less about the news. Listen, I’m very happy because I wouldn’t want to share this with anyone else in the world.”

Corinne rested her head on my shoulders and we hugged.

“We can always take our child with us. We will be a family now.”

“Of course, we always have that option.” Little did I know that is never an option.

A year after the news came, Corinne and I were managing well. Our baby girl, Mya, was born and a great little baby. I was a happy and proud papa. I never realized how much in love I could be for two people. Mya was my reason for life and that brief moment of thought and selfishness never seemed to matter as I couldn’t be more excited about being a father than I was at that moment…or any other time for that matter.

However, shortly after her birth, the bills began to roll in. Corinne had been out of work for three months. She left work halfway through her eight month of pregnancy and wanted to stay home to care for our daughter for two months after. Being a waitress was convenient because she was able to return when she was ready. However, in doing so, I had to postpone returning to school because I worked extra shifts to make sure we could afford the bills we had. Mya’s first year was rough as we struggled to catch up and felt like we never would.

As time progressed, we both learned that we had a lot to learn. Mya was doing amazing things. She was growing up, learning, walking, talking, and saying all the cutesy things you hope and expect from a healthy child. I was in love with her. Each day that went by, I fell more and more in love with her. However, Corinne and I were trying our best not to lose each other in the process. Our incomes were small. We struggled daily. She only finished half her schooling. I hadn’t even started mine. Both companies we worked for were full of empty promises, but we had been there so long in our positions that starting off again somewhere new was not probable because we would both suffer a pay cut. She made money off her regulars. I made a good hourly rate, but had been asking for a promotion for a couple of years. It was becoming frustrating.

Each night before bed, Corinne and I sat together, talking about our dream jobs. She always dreamed of being an actress and starring in movies. And she always said if she didn’t make it, then she wanted to start a course to help up-and-coming actresses make it or do Broadway (she had a marvelous voice). What made us get along so much is that my dream was to be a filmmaker. I wanted to write, produce, and direct films. I loved everything about movies. I took a film literature course and the course was designed to dissect the intricacies of classic films with a special interest in the direction and what made the films so great. I was immediately hooked…and all I could dream of doing was being a filmmaker. But the reality of our dream was dim as we sidelined our own desires and hopes for those of our daughter.

The first years had passed rather quickly. Finally, the summer came. Mya had turned five in February and we prepared to enter her into Kindergarten. This would free up our schedules. There was a film school near where I lived and I decided to enroll, just to see what would happen. Then it came.

“Corinne, what time will you be home today,” I shouted anxiously.

“My lunch shift is over in an hour. Why, what’s up?”

“Please hurry. I have some amazing news.”

Corinne was excited to hear it, as much as I was to tell her. All I could do was sit and wait for her to get home. Thoughts ran rampant in my mind. The possibilities I would have at this film school. It was rated one of the top film programs. It was completely hands-on.

My mind went ballistic. I sat and pondered those days that I would be on set, filming. Or walking with producers to discover proper locations for each of the scenes. Or sitting with the storyboard artists to display the choices I would use as part of the direction for each scene such as angles, frame shots (full, medium, close), cutaways, etc. I sat in silence, but it was a loud silence. We were finally able to get into the film business. How cool would it be for me to direct Corinne in a scene, or an entire film for that matter? We could work together, raise our daughter, and do what we love. My incessant thoughts finally came to a halt once I heard the front door.

“I’m home, Ray. Where are you? I’m dying to hear the news.”

I came from around the side of the door and without her seeing me, I jumped out and grabbed her from behind.

“BOO,” I shouted as she jumped, startled yet laughing because she knows it would be me.

She turned to me, looking for a response.

“What,” I said, acting as if nothing had happened.

“Come on, you can’t call me and tell me about this big news and think I’m going to wait.

What’s the news?”

“Well,” I responded with a pause as I reached into my back pocket and pulled out my acceptance letter. I handed it to her.

“What’s this,” she asked, curious as to what she was about to read. “Oh my God. You got in? YOU GOT IN,” she screamed out as she turned and immediately embraced me.

“Yes, they loved my two-minute short and have decided I’m the perfect fit for their program.”

“Oh my God…this is amazing,” she screamed as she hugged and kissed me uncontrollably. My only goal that night was to make sure we had no more unexpected pregnancies.

The film program turned out to be a great experience. I was learning so much, exercising my mind, coming up with ideas, and completely lost in the moment. My job didn’t matter anymore. I knew I was going to be a success. Or so I thought. Corinne became overwhelmed, though. She was doing much more because I worked 5-6 days a week and was gone 3-4 nights a week for school. It was starting to put a strain on our relationship and she was feeling the grunt of my hard work.

“How was school,” she asked.

“It was good. We learned a lot. I love how involved we are with the mechanics, structure, and process of filmmaking.”

“That’s great, Ray. Listen, I was thinking. There are these acting workshops that are taking place in the next few months that I want to attend.”

“Sure honey. I have no problem with that.”

“Great. Here are the days they fall on,” she said as she handed me a list with the dates and times.

“Um, well. These are good dates but I have to work on these two days and I have class these two evenings. Is this all they offer?”

“What do you mean is this all they offer? This is what it is,” she said with consternation in her voice.

“Why are you getting snappy, Corinne?”

“Because I want a chance to do what I love, too.”

She was right. I wanted so badly to do for us, as a family. I wanted so badly to get through and make it so that we didn’t have to struggle anymore. Despite the naysayers, I truly believed this is what God intended for me. I listened to so many people tell me that this business was so competitive and you’ll never make it unless you are in New York or California and even then the odds are against you, like winning a lottery. But I didn’t care. I wasn’t going to quit my dream. And Corinne deserved the opportunity to fulfill her dream, too.

I had three months left of school and had been putting money away (secretly) so I could make sure that once I completed my school, I would immediately enroll Corinne in her workshops. I was excited because I had saved more than the amount needed to get her in. Even though we struggled, we found a way to make it happen. I was so excited that I couldn’t wait any longer.

It was the morning of Mya’s first day of first grade. We made a big deal of her starting school when she was three. This was no exception. And Corinne loved to drive her to school every morning. It was her “bonding” time with Mya. I had no problem with that. They had a ritual. They cooked breakfast and ate in the morning, left and Corinne stopped by the local coffeehouse on the way to drop Mya off for a hot coffee and a hot chocolate. Then they drove, sang music, and drank their beverages. She loved doing that every morning.

We were both off that day and I was excited because I had secured all the paperwork and signed her up for her workshop classes. I strategically laid them all out on the table and waited for her to return. It usually took her about thirty to forty minutes to drive from home to school and back.

I sat and pondered all of the good moments that were going to come from all this. Her acting, me directing/writing/producing. We could become a great team. We could do so much with it. We would work in the field for a few years, then consider starting our own production company, then build our brand, acting workshops, and film internships to help budding filmmakers gain experience. I had so many ideas and couldn’t stop writing them all down.

As I got lost in the ideas and writing down the many different areas we could tackle, I glanced up at the clock and realized that Corinne had been gone for over an hour. I stood up to get my phone and just as I picked it up to call, it rang.

“Hello…yes, this is he…WHAT…WHEN, WHERE? I’m on my way!”

Life throws funny curveballs at you. I got my curveball that morning. Mya and Corinne were leaving the coffeehouse. Just as she pulled out of the drive-through onto the road, a large pickup truck was heading down the middle lane and, not seeing anyone in the far right lane, decided to cut over. Just as he made that decision, Corinne decided to pull out as well and the pickup met her side of the vehicle.

I immediately headed to the hospital. My head was spinning. They told me nothing on the phone. I was up in arms because I had no idea what was going on. I’m surprised I didn’t get pulled over going as fast as I was going.

When I arrived at the hospital, a nurse and doctor were standing at the desk.

“Hello, please. I’m here for Mya and Corinne. They were in a terrible accident. Please,” I quickly offered.

“Come with me,” the doctor said calmly, as he walked me down the hall into the next corridor. “Your daughter will be fine. She suffered some bruises and cuts, but she’ll be fine,” the doctor explained.

“Ok, great. What about Corinne, Doc? What about Corinne?” The doctor paused briefly before answering.

“Corinne suffered some severe damages. The pickup hit her on her side of the vehicle.

I’m afraid we couldn’t save her. We tried the best we could. But in the end…I’m sorry.”

Before the doctor could get any more information out, I dropped to my knees and realized just how badly heartbreak could actually be. It was so bad that I couldn’t even enter my daughter’s room because I couldn’t stop crying and I didn’t want her to see me like that.

I paced the corridors and halls, outside the building, and around the building for what seemed like hours. How was I supposed to tell Mya? How was I going to deal with this? Part of my life was just taken away and I had no idea how I was going to pull together and get through this.

Finally, I went upstairs to check on Mya. I walked into her room and there she was, bandaged with lines hooked up to her arms. Her little body lay there, helpless, hurt, and in pain. I guess this was one of those times in life when they tell you that you will come across moments that will challenge you, that will hurt, but you need to be strong and pull through. However, they don’t offer the training that is involved with it, that helps you get through and move forward. What was I going to do?

As time went on, Mya and I found it difficult to be without Corinne. We were devastated by it and more importantly, Mya seemed lost at times. I had to make sure that no matter what, she had me whenever and for whatever. I spent several nights trying to keep her calm when she would break down because of how badly she missed her mom. It became a nightly ritual that she and I would have dinner, talk about good things that happened during the day, and then she would get ready for bed. We would sit on the couch and she would cuddle up next to me. I never ever minded. I would wait till she fell asleep and carry her to her bed, tuck her in and then get ready for bed myself. Then I would lay on my bed with Corinne’s picture in my hand and the tears would roll down my face until I had none left and could do nothing but fall asleep. My daughter never questioned it because I’m sure the next morning she grew accustomed to seeing my eyes swollen so she figured it was just how I naturally looked in the morning.

There are things you see and miss when someone you love the way I loved Corinne is gone. I felt a myriad of emotions, everything from anger and frustration, sadness and loneliness, fear and anxiety. I would think about some of our fights and regret some of the things I said. Or I would think about our alone moments and wonder why I didn’t hug and kiss her more. I put myself through hell thinking that I wasn’t as good as I should’ve been. I’ve never had to grieve like this so I wasn’t sure if what I was feeling was normal. I wasn’t going to research it, either, because it hurt too much. The fact remains that she was no longer around.

A few years passed and we both began to heal. Mya was turning ten years old. There were so many things she wanted to do and so much that was going on, that I could no longer afford to stay in our house. We eventually moved out into the current apartment we live in. It wasn’t much, tiny at best. It was all I could afford. I was still at the same job not having been promoted yet. I think the grieving process over the last four years kept my energy and production levels down. But here I was, doing what I didn’t want to do to make sure I could afford to do for Mya. She was all I had left. But even then I felt like I needed to do more because it was all on me. So I shifted my focus at work and started living up to the levels that were expected of me in order to get promoted. Being promoted would give me a huge pay increase.

After about four months, I was finally called into the office by my boss, Richard Keller.

“Good morning, Ray. Please, have a seat,” Mr. Keller said with a calm tone. “Do you have any idea why I brought you in here today, Ray?”

“No sir, but if it’s what I’m thinking, then I’m all ears,” I replied with enthusiasm, vigor, and a tad bit of excitement in my voice because as I said ‘all ears’ my voice cracked and I realized that I may have been a bit too excited.

“Well, as you know, this company has been trying to rapidly expand. Competition is fierce and we are always looking to beat our competitors,” Mr. Keller continued. “We are a strong company, but as it stands we are making changes to the company structure.”

Mr. Keller stood, walked to the wall behind his chair, and stood, staring at the degrees he had displayed in frames.

“I never imagined that I would be at this level. Hell, I had to fight, lost many battles, but eventually won the war, and look, here I am. I’ll cut to the chase, Ray. I brought you in here because the new company structure is cutting out your current position.”

The expression on my face remained still. I didn’t hint to Mr. Keller that I was excited, frustrated, or give on to any emotions that may have been going through my mind. I sat like a statue directly staring at Mr. Keller as he went on.

“We are doing so in order to save dollars on specific team leaders. So I brought you in here to not only let you know, but we noticed you have been doing really well. But, we don’t have any current promotional positions available and with your position being cut, we are prepared to offer you a position as department lead.”

“But sir, that’s a demotion in a sense, is it not,” I asked. I’m sure he could see the red on my face as I became quite angry with this news. “And I thought Renaldo was transferring to another store, so won’t his position be available?”

“Yes, all you say is true. However, we have someone else in mind for Renaldo’s position. And don’t think of it as a demotion, think of it as a chance to go back to the basics and relearn. Also, keep doing what you are doing and in another six months to a year, we will definitely be ready to promote you.”

“Another six months to a year? What about my pay rate? How will that be affected?”

“You will only drop a dollar per hour so it won’t hurt as bad as you think,” Mr. Keller replied with confidence.

“Won’t hurt as bad? Sir, that’s forty dollars per week, one hundred sixty dollars per month. That’s one and a half of my bills. What do you mean it won’t hurt that bad?”

“Listen, I know it’s tough. This isn’t easy for me to tell you. However, I will need to know by the end of the day if you accept the offer.”

So much was going through my head. I was barely getting by as it were. Now they were docking my pay, demoting me, and I had to decide if I would accept. How could I care for my daughter like this? How could I give her the life that she wants? I was so mad. I was mad that Corinne was gone and I didn’t have her sweet voice to be my piece of mind. I was mad that I had put in over ten years to this company and I was being demoted because of their structure change. I was mad that if my daughter asked me to do something, I would have to tell her no because I couldn’t afford it. I was mad that I was not on a set somewhere screaming “PLACES

EVERYONE…QUIET ON THE SET…ROLL CAMERA, AND…ACTION” or “CUT;

THAT’S A WRAP!” I was mad at everything. My pride was stripped. My strength diminished. My motivation disintegrated. So I did what anyone would have done…I took the demotion.

Three years passed and I was able to finally – FINALLY – get promoted. But the scale of the new structure changed the pay standard. I went back to making what I was making before my demotion, plus a dollar more. So it was only a two-dollar pay raise. Before the structure change, it was a four-dollar pay increase. But they took away some of the responsibilities to focus on smaller-scale attention to each area for the best customer experience possible. Blah, blah, blah.

The only good I could say I felt at that moment was that my daughter and I had a strong relationship. She told me anything and everything and when we talked, all else was silent. What I mean by that is that I turned off TVs, music, and anything outside that could cause interference. I made sure that when she spoke to me, she had me one hundred percent. Again, I needed her to know and understand that I was there for her…for anything and everything. She was a good kid, did really well in school, was involved in a lot of activities, and never complained about anything (other than her school friends or natural pre-teen and teenager stuff).

**********************

I got dressed that morning, forty years old. The thoughts of having nothing but the love and admiration I had for my daughter were really all I had. From my bed to the shower to my closet to get ready for work, my entire life’s worth had amounted to a small apartment and the reality that my daughter was fifteen years old, and I had nothing. Again, if anything should happen to me, she would be left with my debt, no savings…absolutely zero!

That was a long morning. I don’t know what made turning forty hit me so hard. I hated my thirties because of how they started off and all the struggles I had to fight. I wanted my forties to be better, but again, there I was with nothing.

That day at work didn’t seem to exist because I can’t tell you what went on that day. I was out of it, quiet, lethargic, and in deep thought. There were even moments where I thought about leaving the job and just walking away until something that was strong and powerful popped into my head. But it always came back to being a filmmaker. I would think of those moments that Corinne and I use to talk about, me directing a big-budgeted film, her auditioning and getting the lead, Mya on the set proud of her parents for their hard work and dedication and love to their craft. It always made me smile.

That night I got in my car and drove home. As I flipped through the radio stations, I heard something that caught my attention: “Are you a budding filmmaker looking to get into the business? Have an idea for a film or movie? Have a short film that you are dying to share? Wrote a perfect script to sell to Hollywood? If this sounds like you, then call us now or visit us on our site. We are always looking for fresh new filmmakers.”

I laughed when I heard this. I had listened to radio for years and it was funny how this is what caught my attention. What’s even funnier is that the station I was on, I didn’t care about one bit. I turned it on because that day made me think of Corinne and it was her favorite station to listen to. So I switched it over to listen to it on the ride home.

I debated about this. I thought to myself this must be some gimmick or ploy. However, here I was, a long road away from both New York and California. Maybe I can still be involved in the film business. Maybe there was still the opportunity to make my presence known. I was getting pumped up on the ride home, the more I thought of it. When I returned home that night, I looked up what I heard. There are tons of contests to enter for film and scripts. This one was unique because not only were they seeking new stars in the industry, they would fly me out, introduce me to the big heads, and then we would get to work on it. This was bigger than winning a grand prize. This WAS the grand prize.

I sat at the computer and opened my screenwriting software. I stared at the page, blankly, for what seemed like several minutes. I then started putting words on the screen. Some were quick, others not so much. But then the flow came. I wrote for hours. Even Mya remarked how intense I was, but I didn’t respond. I was completely in the moment. I felt alive. I felt like I was hired for a major production and was writing the script of a lifetime. I laughed. I cried. But wrote and wrote. The only time I took a break was when I needed to empty my bladder. And even then, I was playing dialog over and over again in my head. I would stop a scene, get up to use the restroom and just start whispering the continuation so that when I sat down again, I was able to continue. It felt amazing. For the first time in almost ten years, I felt like I was on top of the world, that no one could stop me from being a superhero.

I spent the next three weeks doing the same thing each night. Mya would stop by my room on occasion.

“Daddy, you need something to eat or drink?”

“No, honey. I’m good thank you,” I quickly replied, in a zone.

I was writing for a contest. This wasn’t just any contest. If I won this competition, I was going to meet some of the top producers in Hollywood, be given a budget, and be allowed to produce my script, from start to finish. I also would ask if I could direct, but first I needed to win.

I had one week left to enter and I did nothing but write. I went to work, came home, and wrote. I explained all this to Mya before I began and she thought it was the coolest thing ever. “Oh my God, how cool would it be to have my dad become a big-time filmmaker? Maybe I can be in one of your films,” she shouted in excitement. I could only think how much she reminded me of her mother.

The final draft of the script was complete. It took me almost four weeks, late-night hours, and a ton of drive to make sure it was edited and ready to be entered. Just as I finished and read ‘THE END,’ I sat back for a moment, wiped my eyes, grinned wildly, and then opened up the email, and attached the script. Hitting the ‘SEND’ button gave me a huge sense of relief. I felt alive again. I felt like I was on top of the world. I felt as though I had won already. That was enough for me. Now, I had to wait six weeks to hear…if anything at all.

The next six weeks went by very fast. I went to work, came home, and spent time with Mya (when she wasn’t out spending the night at a friend’s house or doing anything that involved her friends). All I could do was sit and think about the opportunity and potential if I were to win. Each night I lay in bed, pondering the amazing opportunities and possibilities. My job would be making film. I would get up every morning doing what I love. I would be able to afford a home and make sure Mya had money for college and was taken care of. All these great possibilities. I had forgotten how good this felt because the only other time I felt like this was when Corinne and I would sit and talk about it together. She would egg me on about how great of a director/producer/writer I would become and all the impact I would have on the industry and I would pump her up with her ability as an actress and her amazing voice and tell her stories of how great she would be and loved and remembered by all, the mark that she would leave on the industry. I felt that all over again. That night, I reached over and grabbed her photo and held it tight in my arms, smiling as I soon fell asleep.

The next morning came and I woke to my alarm. I jumped out of bed, got ready for work, and checked my email. Nothing. This became a normal routine for me. I was told we would be made aware of the winners and finalists in six weeks. It was going on ten weeks and I gave up. I just assumed I didn’t win or they would have said something.

I felt as if I was going to go back to feeling the way I did the morning of my fortieth birthday. But that didn’t happen. I was proud that I had just banged out a major script and if I could do that just once, then why not several times. And why not enter them into several other contests. Why stop there? It dawned on me that maybe a writer is where I needed to start. It wouldn’t cost me anything but time and I had plenty to spare. And I figured if I could get at least one script picked up, I would be able to make some money to help Mya out with college. I had nothing to lose and several ideas to share.

The next morning as I was getting ready for work, I checked my email. I received a message with the results of the competition. I looked directly where the top of the line began and my worst fear was realized…I was not listed as the winner. Nor was I listed as second, third, or runner-up. However, my script did place fifth. I received new software, a gift certificate from the online writing store, and some other things. I was proud that I placed in the top five. But instead of feeling down, I felt charged - empowered. That put a fire under me to write more, compete more, and get better than fifth. My next goal was to shoot for fourth place…or better. I felt revived. I felt energized. This was a great feeling. Then the call came.

“Hello…yes this is he…what? Really? Um, sure. That would be fine…what time…ok great.”

Just as I hung up the phone, Mya came in to tell me she was ready for school and saw the look on my face.

“Daddy, are you ok,” she asked carefully as she was unsure of what was going on.

“Yes honey, I’m fine.”

She glanced over and noticed the email I had opened, saw I placed fifth and was very excited.

“Daddy, that’s fantastic that you placed fifth. Why aren’t you happy?”

“I am, honey. I just got off the phone. That was Benjamin Maynard,” I said.

“Who is Benjamin Manyard?”

“One of the biggest producers in Hollywood, honey. He told me he was one of the judges on the contest that I just entered and was happy my script didn’t win.”

“That’s a crappy thing to say.”

“No, no. He said that because he was so enamored by my script, he wanted to make it into a movie outside of the competition.”

“What! Really?”

“Yeah, he is going to fly here to meet with me and discuss it.”

Mya and I jumped up and began screaming. We were so excited that we ran around the apartment hollering like banshees. We danced. We sang. We laughed. We were also late for work and school. But it didn’t matter. This was news that required celebration. So we both played hooky that day and I took Mya out to breakfast.

The following week, Mr. Maynard showed up at my house to discuss the film. I had many ideas for many movies. I had written several of them down over the years, leading up to Corinne’s death. Somehow, someway, I knew she was watching over me. That night I heard on the radio about the contest was the night that my life changed again. I could only write at that moment what I knew, what I was familiar with, what made me the man I became and what inspired me to succeed. I created the script based loosely on my life. It was then I knew I was ready, that everything would be just fine.

Mr. Maynard and I walked over to the table and we sat down.

“Can I get you some coffee, Mr. Maynard,” I asked calmly and confidently.

“Yes please. Cream with light sugar,” he replied.

I made his coffee and sat with him at the table. He opened up his briefcase and pulled out the script, placed it on the table, and looked at me with a big grin on his face.

“Ok, so here are my thoughts on your script, ‘Forty Years Young…’”