Page 43 of The Second Chance Cinema
With a brisk walk, they made it just in time. They sat, the lights lowered, and the hot dog Charleston dance began. Then, Ellie’s body froze as a title appeared on the pitch-black screen.
TICKET FIVE:RIDE
The party buzzed with college kids.
Nothing in the living room made sense together. A Jimi Hendrix tie-dye tapestry was faced off with modern IKEA wall art. Nirvana and Rihanna mingled on a confusing playlist, and a rowdy game of beer pong was juxtaposed by the placid nature documentary on television. Ellie watched a school of yellow fish thread through a vibrant coral reef while her date traded conspiracy theories with his friends. Would he even notice if she left?
He didn’t notice.
Ellie climbed the beige stairs up to the home’s second level, each step soft under her feet. At the top, the door to a sky-blue bedroom was open. She poked her head in. The walls were plastered with photos of a blonde girl and her friends. Something about her carefree smile was reminiscent of a missing person poster. Behind her, on the bedside table, was what she’d been looking for: a coveted, freeing, landline. She picked it up and dialed.
“You have to come get me,” Ellie said, lowering herself to sit on the bed. Her hand brushed against some weathered books as she flipped the bedside lamp on. A copy ofThe Great Gatsbywas particularly dog-eared. “I’m on a bad date,” she admitted. “Yeah, heiscute, but he’s also one of those government-fakedthe-moon-landing types.” Ellie twirled the phone cord around her wrist. “Because my phone is dead,” she explained. “No, I didn’t bring a charger to a party. Come and get me.” She paused, then switched tactics. “I’ll buy you fries.”
Twenty minutes later, Ben was perched inside his car at the end of the driveway. Ellie flung the passenger door open. Gone was his last decade of anarchy. In was an air of academia: neat-trimmed hair, a forest-green cable knit sweater, and based on his cupholders, an espresso habit. But as his arms stretched toward the wheel, an artifact of Ben’s rebellion surfaced. There it was—the tattoo he sat for on his twentieth birthday—The Shiningtwins, but really, the two of them.
A whistling teakettle backed by spacey synths greeted Ellie as she hopped inside the car. “What’s this music?” she asked.
“It’s plant music, sis,” Ben said. His face was gentle, almost serene.
“Plant music?”
“Yeah,” he told her. His bright olive eyes, which Ellie shared, glowed in the seat next to her. “This is an album that helps plants reach their potential.” Ben turned his arms into the limbs of aMonstera. He swatted her head as he peeled the car from the curb. Ellie pictured a group of plants swaying inside the party instead of confused college students. Plants with beer cans. Plants with hookah habits or inferiority complexes. At the end of the song, the music clicked to a stop. “Rewind,” Ben insisted, rolling his finger around in the air.
“Rewind it?”
“It’s a tape, sis.”
Ellie relaxed a little. Her brother hadn’t changed all that much;the tape was proof he still frequented vintage stores and estate sales. Ben also probably flirted with the shop girl about some offbeat hobby of hers, like growing turmeric. Static filled the space between them as the tape rewound, then snapped back to the beginning.
Ellie hit Play and the music dragged her deep into the hazy part of her brain. The alcohol and car’s speed transformed the road outside into streaks. Her eyes were closing. She couldn’t fall asleep this early, not yet. Spending time with Ben was a rare luxury these days. They would sit on the floor of his apartment and split the day-old noodles in his fridge, gossiping about their dates, their part-time jobs, their trivial encounters. It always felt so good to come back together, like they were still kids and life didn’t have any big stakes yet.
Her eyes opened again as the car pulled up to the illuminated square menu outside their favorite fast-food place. Ben ordered large fries through the speaker. “With extra ketchup,” he said, leaning out the window. “And extra napkins,” he added, glancing at Ellie in camaraderie. “We’re messy like that.”
Ellie searched the radio for something that would keep her awake. The announcer on the local station teased a contest coming up. Listeners could reveal a personal secret about themselves and win tickets to see Interpol.
“Speaking of secrets,” Ben said after they ordered, “why don’t you spill yours?” They slid up to the window. Ellie set crumpled cash in Ben’s hand. He arranged the fries between them in the cup holder and squeezed a few ketchup packets over the steaming golden rectangles.
“You want my secrets?” Ellie asked. She grabbed two fries. “Do you have Interpol tickets?”
“Seriously, Ellie,” Ben said. After they paid, they pulled back onto the dark street. “I want to know what you’ve been thinking about lately. We talk about the trivial stuff, but I think it’s timefor you to make a plan. What you’re going to do with your life after college. Where you’re going to live. How you’re going to avoid parties that require fleeing.”
“My plan,” Ellie said, “is to eat my weight in fries.”
“Well, instead of that, I think you should write.” Ben pulled one of her fries away. “You’re good at it.”
“Writer, schmiter,” she said. Ben’s timing for a serious conversation was terrible. Ellie was half-drunk, half-falling asleep, and he was hitting her with lofty questions. Her annoyance kicked in. “Why are you asking me this now, Ben?”
He sighed. “Because we should talk about these things before I leave.”
The wordleavereached out and struck her. They were supposed to be acting like it wouldn’t, inevitably, happen. Ben wouldn’t head off to med school. Ellie wouldn’t have to take a flight, albeit a short one, to see him. He barely seemed to mourn this distance. They’d been attached at the hip since she was born. When he’d gone off to college, it was only an hour from home, and she’d soon followed him there. Where would Ellie even fit in once he began his new life? “I don’t get why you’re suddenly telling me what to do,” she retaliated. “You’ve gone kind of cliché lately. Now you’re running off to become one of them?”
“What’s your beef with med school, man?” Ben asked, more curious than upset. They turned onto the freeway.
“No beef,” Ellie said, despite a clear beef. “I think it sounds boring.”
He nodded a little. “Well, I think it sounds nice.”
“Nice?”
