Page 28 of The Second Chance Cinema
Ellie feared Drake was going to pry, but in a saving grace, her phone dinged first. Ellie opened the email. The sender wasn’t Ben, of course, but they were completely unexpected. “Umm.”
“What?”
“It’s an email from my dad.” Ellie debated if she should share the contents with Drake as she scanned the short paragraph.
“What does it say?”
She sighed and surrendered. On any other night, she’d delete it, but seeing Ben opened up a longing for some taste of family. Even if the taste was bad, like the homemade almond milk her dad brought her on his last visit.
“He wants us to come out for Thanksgiving,” Ellie told him. “With five days’ notice.”
“So? That could work.”
“What about Nancy?”
“Ask if she can come with,” Drake suggested. “I think your dad would like her. They’re both free spirits.”
“No,” Ellie said. “No, no, no.” Drake gave a look that implied they should say yes.
“No!”
13
Five days later, the two of them were headed to her dad’s house with one free spirit whining in the backseat. Ellie’s regret deepened as they got off the freeway. Why had she said yes to this plan when her dad didn’t actually like Thanksgiving? He wasn’t big on conversation, gratitude, or any of the elements a traditional holiday dinner would evoke. Ellie debated turning around for the entirety of the three-hour drive to his cabin in the woods, which was located at the intersection of Nowhere and Remote.
These days, Ellie and her dad were pen pals. The cabin had no cell service and bad Wi-Fi. William’s wife, Naomi, was deeply granola and resistant to technology, so there wasn’t a landline either. Selling his successful orthodontic practice to retire an hour from a grocery store was a choice. Ellie imagined that her dad drove to that grocery store to send his email invitation and the rare text messages she received from him.
“I’m getting the feeling like we’re the high schoolers here,” Ellie said. The road continued to dissolve as they pushed toward what she hoped was a driveway. The time was only a little after five, but the dusk had deepened several shades, making it hard to get their bearings.
“Which high schoolers?” A light flickered on in the distance, beyond a patch of overgrown trees.
“You know, the teenagers in the movie who wanted to party in a cabin, but there’s a killer on the loose?”
Drake tossed his phone into the cup holder. “You’ve really never been out here?”
“Haven’t had the pleasure.” The wheels hit a branch that cracked so loud, Ellie thought a bone had snapped. Her car was built to handle the occasional puddle or a gentle patch of snow— not whatever undergrowth they were driving over. She regretted turning down Drake’s offer to take his truck. It would handle better in the woods, he’d said, but Ellie resisted. She liked to be the conductor on drives, selecting the music and determining the gas stations and roadside attractions that were worth a stop. Still, the truck would’ve made more sense.
Ellie hadn’t prepared for this outing, in so many ways.
Two figures appeared on the wet wooden porch as the car crawled closer. Warm light poured out from the front windows, illuminating her dad as he shifted down the front steps. His arms stretched in a big wave above his head; he was saying hello or fending off a bear. Either way, it was new to see him take up this much space. For years, William had curled himself into a tight, button-down-clad ball that cowered behind her mother. It was nice seeing him look comfortable in his casual flannel shirt and jeans.
Ellie threw the car in park.
“Well, we made it.” Drake exhaled. She could hear the nervousness in his voice. He had met her dad and Naomi only once about six months ago; they took a road trip to have dinner at a halfway point on Drake’s insistence. The neutral hotel restaurant Ellie picked had a fireplace that should’ve made a strong conversation starter. Unfortunately, the hostess seated them on the opposite side of the lounge, an eternity from the roaring fire. They covered crunchy topics Ellie and Drake knew nothing about over mediocre flatbreads. Hotel restaurants always served flatbreads.
“Kiddo,” William called as Ellie exited the driver’s seat and helped Nancy out of the back. Her dad went in for a hug. Thesmell of pine and earth latched onto his shirt and skin. Behind them, Drake teetered his weight between their two duffel bags. Duffel bags were smart. Duffel bags said,We’re only staying one night.Naomi insisted on grabbing both of the bags as she motioned them inside. William slapped Drake on the shoulder, as manly men do. “Let’s get in there,” he said. “Dinner’s on the stove.”
Turkey and cranberry sauce would’ve been too obvious a choice. Her dad and Naomi’s Thanksgiving involved a lawless soup: beans and mystery meat, tiny macaroni noodles, and what tasted like baking spices. An antler-shaped fixture loomed above their heads as they chewed. The fixture had come with the cabin, Ellie assumed. Surely, the man she’d grown up with, and had to at least still know a little, would not have chosen that fixture.
“So, Ellie,” Naomi started, “how are your articles going?”
Ellie tried to hide her frustration. It wasn’t that she didn’t like Naomi. She was a nice person, even though she smelled of essential oils and looked like she cut her own hair over the sink. Naomi had worked for years as a nurse, but Ellie strained to picture her in scrubs. She only wished Naomi hadn’t called her workarticles. “I’m dabbling with a few ideas,” Ellie said. Her spoon clinked against the bottom of the bowl. She was hungry, despite the collision of flavors.
“We need to catch up on our reading, Will,” Naomi said. “He likes scary stories.”
Ellie finished her soup. “You do, Dad?”
“Hmm? Oh, yeah.” He nodded a little. “Yeah. Scary ones. Nothing too violent.”
