Whisper Room

Recovery, One Hoarse Day at a Time

Of course, it had to be an energy drink.

Couldn’t be an herbal shampoo, or a florist, something soft, granola, mellow.

The director wanted “kinetic, electric, mindbending.”

On a normal day, he could do all that.

A PA brought him tea, he apologized until his voice even cracked on the apologies.

Finally, he threw down the headphones and walked into the control room. To his left was the soundboard. To his right, a gaggle of very frustrated agency reps, copywriters, and assorted lurkers about.

“There’s this kid, great new voice talent, Eddie Nym-”

“Client doesn’t want ‘great new’, Markus Stollman, the campaign’s creative director said. “Client wants Dave Broadner. And you’re Dave Broadner.”

“Client can have Dave Broadner in two days, maybe three. Not today. I just don’t have it.”

Markus looked around the room.

“Break, everybody.”

He grabbed Dave by the elbow, walked him outside.

“You partying again?”

Dave knew it was coming. Couldn’t blame Markus. He had done a Suzuki spot absolutely polluted, his mouth somehow working on muscle memory and luck. He was still mumbling the motorcycle’s engines specs in rehab. His septum was a thing of the past. He ate milk thistle like it was breakfast cereal and he hit ten meetings a week.

Made it back. 

Got a second chance.

Refused to make an excuse.

“I’m not partying, Markus,” Dave whispered. “Pushing 3000 days clean. I just…doesn’t matter. I’m sorry. Why such a quick turnaround on a national?”

Markus lit a clove cigarette and Dave took two steps back.

“PowerEdge is also releasing one with an organic, all-natural sweetener. Jackwave needs to drop their campaign first. How’d you show up with your voice all ragged out? If you’re partying, tell me. We’ll get you help, I-”

Dave’s head wanted to scream. He just shook it, adamantly, realizing in the short run it didn’t matter whether he was partying or not. He couldn’t do the spot.

“I’m sorry, Markus. Really. Get me an extension or get Eddie. Or whoever. I need rest.”

Markus bit off a huge chunk of his thumbnail with the clove still between his lips.

“I’ll see what we can do, David, but honestly…”

Markus pulled on the smoke until his lips crinkled and he didn’t finish the sentence.

“Let me know, Dave said. ‘Sorry. I…Sorry.”

Dave made a mental check to see if he had left anything in the studio. He had not. 

He walked out to the parking lot, slowly.

“Mr. Broadner!”

It was the building’s receptionist. He had just waved at her on his way in. He didn’t even know she knew his name. She scurried up closer.

“Ummm, this is super unprofessional, but I just wanted you to know I learned phonics from Bingo the Flying Squirrel. I mean, I’m sure most of my generation did, but…It’s just special to me to meet you, that’s all. Thank you.”

“Thank you,” Dave whispered. He wanted to give her a Bingo catchphrase, but he knew he’d butcher it. “Thank you for telling me. It’s …nice to hear.”

Dave pulled his keys from his pocket and tripped on the parking block in the first disabled parking space.

He started to swear. It just came out a hissing F.

He heard footsteps and turned.

“They’re really worried about you in there, Mr. Broadner. Ummm…” The receptionist twisted her class ring, blinked, but held eye contact with Dave.

“Hearing your story helped me get sober, Mr. Broadner. I owe you twice. If you need anything…Just to talk, anything, really….”

Dave looked at the card.

“Thanks, Maura. That’s kind of you. I’m still clean, thank you, but I really will give you a call sometime. There’s this great outdoor riverfront meeting…”

“I’ve always wanted to go to that one. My friend Elliot says it’s a stellar group.”

Dave nodded and smiled. He hadn’t felt like smiling all week. Should have just told Stollman about his dad, the nursing home, the…it didn’t matter. It would have come off as an excuse. Dave Broadner didn’t make excuses anymore.

He hugged Maura.

“Thanks for caring. That’s special to me. ODAAT.”

Maura wrapped her arms around the voice of Bingo the Flying Squirrel. The little girl in her was thrilled speechless.

Markus Stollman looked through the gap in the curtains, out into the parking lot.

“Cokehead sonuvabitch is out there flirting with young women. He’s finished. He’s through. Call Diamond Talent, Larry. I’m gonna end that idiot’s career.”

***