I wrote a fan letter to Uma Thurman. [View All]

[rbnyc]

I haven't written a fan letter since I was 15. It's a strange impulse, but I decided to follow it.

Dear Uma,

I saw Kill Bill a few weeks ago and I’m writing to thank you for your part in creating The Bride. I thought the film was beautifully shot, I loved the way the story was shown, but your character has really stayed with me.

I want to thank you for and the will and the strength The Bride has helped encourage in me. I want to thank you for the rage she has expressed for me. I want to thank you for giving me a champion, a private heroine, a ready image that I can recall when I need it, a little help.

At 11:30 pm on July 24th I was getting a ride home to Brooklyn from Stony Brook, Long Island. I was 10 weeks pregnant and getting married on the 26th. A girl hit my side of the car squarely at about 70 miles per hour, compressing my seat into a 4-inch space. I woke up in a mangled car, covered with blood, my mouth full of glass, and my life completely changed. I lost the baby that took us 2 years to conceive. I’ve spent the last few months re-learning how to walk.

When Black Mamba woke up in that hospital bed and realized what she’d lost, I felt very distinctly understood. It was really painful to watch, but that’s right. It hurts. It hurt then and it hurts now. If I actually took the lid off and expressed the extent of my grief, I’d have to…well, hmmm…I’d have to go on a murderous rampage of blood-spouting retribution.

I can’t really do that. For one thing, in my case, no one actually deserves it, not even the 2 very stupid drivers who are at fault. For another thing, it’s wrong. That’s why we have stories. That’s why we have archetypes and legends and heroes. I identified with her as she took revenge, and I got some satisfaction.

When I’m walking with my cane, I think of her and I remember to look up instead of down. It’s easy to feel old and ugly when your pregnancy has been slammed out of you and your muscles are re-growing from soup. I can think of her in the back of that truck ordering her toe to move, and it helps me remember that I’m hot and I’m sharp and I have a purpose.

We did not postpone the wedding. Our friends and family were all in town already. They came from all over the country. We felt that putting off the wedding would be like saying to them, it’s not important enough that you’re here, we want the big white tent, and music and the dress and the flowers floating in the pool and the dancing. The nurses wheeled my bed into the orthopedic gym for the ceremony. Afterwards I sent everyone to the reception to eat all that food, and I went to sleep.

It was an amazing day and I don’t regret it. But when I look at the pictures and see myself getting married in a nightgown that had to be sliced down the back and put around me because I couldn’t sit up, and see my husband standing next to my IV poll, and the henna painting one of my bridesmaids had done to cover the cuts on my hands, part of me just feels robbed.

I saw my baby’s heartbeat the day before the accident, and started a scrapbook with the sonogram picture. That’s the only thing that’s in that book. All the rest of the pages are blank. I still don’t know what to do with it. I see it on my dresser and it’s hard.

I have a lot of things going for me and I have a lot of support. I have no patience for being disabled and I’m recovering very quickly. I have a lot of good days, but it’s rough. I just wanted to thank you for giving me something that I can use.

If you wanted to create a character that would reach into people and inspire them, you did a really good job.

Sincerely

René Bouchard

EDIT: typo