Mom says, your grandpa worked on some shark movie, and I’m, like, AMAZING!

Awesome! Second question: Was the, uh, film, important?

JAWS IN C MINOR BY GEORGE WEHRFRITZ 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 119

Nurse Fiona in Oprah singsong, smiling. “Chrissie’s here in an hour. Let’s get you presentable.” Sponge bath, fresh sheets on the bed, three blush carnations in a vase beside the room’s window. She double-taps a floral aerosol “tsst tsst” to mask the bouquet of urine.

Through the window Bruce eyeballs a rusty Camaro clattering to a halt at the care home’s portico. His granddaughter Chrissie leans over from the passenger seat, kisses the driver.

“Mom called, right? About my, uh, Labour Day thing? Oral history on somebody’s favourite job or whatever. I’m, like, boring, then Mom says, your grandpa worked on some shark movie, and I’m, like, AMAZING!”

“Uh, well,” Bruce gulps air like a goldfish.

Chrissie scrabbles inside a fringed suede purse, extracts a photocopied list, sets her smartphone to record. “First question: Describe. The. Ju-job.”

“Third AD–that’s Assistant Director–on Jaws.”

“Awesome! Second question: Was the, uh, film, important?”

“Biggest hit of 1975. Made Steve Spielberg Hollywood’s golden boy, and defined the summer blockbuster.”

“Yay for summer! Okay, last one: How did it–the, you know, Assistant Director job–change your life?”

“Ruined it.”