Cut!"
I SQUIRMED ON MY canvass folding chair trying to relieve the numbness in my rump, brought on by inactivity and boredom, the script perched on my lap.
When I crossed my knees, it fell to the concrete floor with a loud splat, I left it there.
I had once heard that shooting TV commercials was to experience long periods of mindless inactivity interspersed with bursts of utter boredom.
It was true,I checked my watch. Three-twenty already. Watching drying paint was more interesting.
I wondered why it took three days to shoot a thirty-second ad? If Hollywood filmed movies at this pace, each movie would take, hmmm, let's see - two hundred and forty days of shooting!
The new challenge of trying to write a Super Bowl commercial had dazzled me. This one was going to be my first and last.
As I observed key grips shifting equipment around, the young director throwing out orders, and what seemed like another fifty people standing and watching, I tuned the disaster out of mind. I had better things to think about, namely Amelia.
Her birthday had been a resounding success in more ways than the obvious - the joy expressed by a young girl getting a long dreamed-for present. I'd been gifted, too. In fact, my gifts far outstripped Amelia's.
Waking up the morning after, I'd been gifted with finding Amelia still in my bed, curled up next to me. I'd been gifted to be able to study her as she slept.
There was, in her face, an innocent purity I associated with some of the very greatest child actors; Shirley Temple, Dakota Fanning, just prettier.
Amelia, quiet and relaxed in sleep, was younger, her face missing the influence of her personality.
Small nostrils flared gently with each silent breath. Short, dark hair, still roughly cut, had a silken texture, darker streaks adding shade and depth to the color.
In repose, her mouth changed, lips more lush; a bowed upper, the lower more plump.
For half an hour I studied her and found beauty that touched me deeply. If Rufus hadn't woken, I could have watched Amelia for as long as she'd have allowed me.
Instead, I'd slipped out of bed, started the coffee machine, and taken the ball of fur for an early morning walk in the back garden.
Like a champ, he'd peed, pooped, and came alive.
It must have been passing those wings that took such weight off his mood, because he became rambunctious once again,
chasing a butterfly, and flopping at the edge of the pool, oversized paws hanging over, tasting the chlorinated water with loud slurps. How could a dog like the taste of chemicals?
A rare stray twig had kept him happy while I'd poured coffee and took the mug out onto the patio, sipping it in the cooler June morning air.
There were high Cirrus clouds in the sky catching the first rays of a waking sun, their eastern edges glowing amber as if about to catch fire.
Rufus, suddenly scrabbling up and tumbling, with excited barks, alerted me to Amelia's arrival. And another gift was bestowed on me; Amelia gently hugging me from behind, whispering, "Thanks for a great birthday, Mike."
Another precious gift arrived when Amelia, playing with Rufus on the grass, broke into song, her voice absolute purity, tone-perfect, effortless.
My gift was to hear her sing a pop song by Destiny's Child, Say My Name, a song of love and empowerment, upbeat and bright. Gone were the sad tunes of before.
I received another gift that day; the sound of her laughter filling my house with brightness and light as she played with Sir Rufus Peealot, regularly calling out, "Mike! Bring some paper towels!" Despite the inconvenience, I'd grinned every time.
But, the greatest gift of all, a gift beyond compare, better than winning an Oscar or a Golden Globe, was Amelia carrying Rufus into my bedroom, placing him at the foot of the bed and climbing in next to me.
With music playing softly, just before I fell asleep, at that last moment of consciousness when the world loses hard reality and soft dreams beckon, I heard her whisper very, very quietly, "I love you, Mike."
I couldn't imagine a better gift.
"Quiet on the set! Tapes rolling? Let's get some room tone, now."
I grinned to myself. I found 'room tone' funny for some reason. It was one of those things most people never thought about or noticed unless it was missing.
In commercials, room tone was added in-between scenes or added to edited inserts. Every studio has different sounding silences.
You can't insert digital silence to film or you'll notice; a deadness that makes you think you've lost your hearing and need to clear your ears.
I waited while they filmed and recorded room tone. It was the last job on a shoot.
The shoot over, they'd be in post production for three weeks, followed by extensive qualitative and quantitative research, then back to re-editing the commercial.
Because they wanted it for the Super Bowl, it wouldn't surprise me if I heard from them again, asking for a rewrite.
Seven hundred and seventy-five thousand Dollars for thirty seconds, the equivalent of one hundred and eighty-six million for a two-hour movie. These guys were insane!
Staying silent while they recorded room tone, I visited with memories. Amelia, for the last five weeks, had flourished, fully recovered and busier than ever.
I'd added puppy classes to her hectic schedule, so she was now swamped. A busy Amelia was a happy Amelia and made for a happy me.
But something else had emerged. I'd helplessly succumbed to her gentle charm. She still took my breath away every time I'd study her.
And, without consciously being aware of it, I was no longer enamored with her; I'd fallen in love. It was hard not to. She was a very rare person.
I'd loved her as a sweet and considerate girl, as a beautiful soul, as a pure voice, and as her guardian.
But, over the last year since she'd been a part of my life, Amelia had changed. I first noticed it when she went for a swim and fearless Rufus, after barking his warning that she might drown,
lunged into the pool to save her;
a sixteen week old puppy to the rescue. At first, I worried he would drown, but, no.
Rufus took to water as if born to it, happily splashing as he swam to Amelia – a total natural. She grabbed him, laughing with delight, hugging him, and carried him up the semi-circular stairs at the end of the pool.
That was the moment I saw Amelia had changed and grown into a young lady. She'd sprouted to over five feet tall. Still a lanky, slender girl, she'd developed some amazing curves;
a subtle waist, a sensual swell to her bottom and top of her thighs giving me a gorgeous rear view, and two small breasts had formed.
In her yellow bikini, Amelia had transformed from a cute cygnet into a beautiful swan.