Page 6 of The Second Chance Cinema
“What was all that about, at the restaurant?” Drake finally ventured to ask. “With the waitress?”
Ellie pulled her jacket tighter. “I’m sorry. It sounded rude as soon as it came out. But I’m fine.”
“Okay. Well, you didn’t seem fine,” he said.
Here was the picking apart Ellie loathed. She had allowed Drake into her thoughts and life more than she’d thought was possible. She’d told him everything that happened with her parents, and most of what happened with her brother, Ben. She’d even mentioned that she had struggled to commit in past relationships. But right now, she didn’t want to open the scary vault of the day and take stock of her mental cobwebs. If she pried herself open, her pain might all tumble out and refuse to disappear. Drake was everything to her, but sometimes she wondered if she’d be able to give him enough of herself—the intimacy and vulnerability he deserved.
Drake paused to get his bearings. Ellie swore she could hear his thoughts. They didn’t walk without aim anymore, and they’d never walked this far from the car. “I’m thinking we should head back,” he suggested. “It’s getting kind of late.”
“No.” Ellie urged them forward. “I want to keep going.”
“All right. Well, while we walk, you can tell me what you’re feeling. You don’t have to bottle it all up, you know.” He squeezed her into him, maybe to coerce a confession.
Ellie led them through the main square of Chinatown, around a few corners, and onto a new street filled with a row of boutiques. Windows housed oven mitts midwave, needle-felted snowmen, and boxes wrapped in quirky patterned paper. It was only the last weekend of October, but Big Christmas was on a mission to start the holidays earlier every year. Luckily, Ellie still had a few weeks before her mom’s five-course dinner happened—and her dad’s grain-free cookies arrived by mail.
“It was just a bad day,” Ellie said, finally filling the silence. “Can we talk about something else?”
“Sure. Okay. Like what?”
“I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me about work?”
“Work?” Drake sighed. “Work is …boring.”
He was always saying: “Work is boring.” For someone who pushed her to open up, Drake also stored parts of himself she couldn’t access. He was sentimental and romantic, unafraid to cry when moved. His disappointments, though, were kept to himself. “Pretty street, isn’t it?” Drake asked. He was nodding to the trees and shops spread out in front of them. A cold gust made the branches shiver. Itwasa pretty street, but Ellie noticed something unusual ahead of them. A small gap was set between two of the stores, outlined by a brick archway. Ellie moved toward the opening.
“Ellie?” Drake asked, following behind her.
The doorway led to an alley. The opening in the brick marked the beginning of an adorable little alley that would’ve been so easy to walk right by. A fog hovered above the steps. Pastel-hued storefronts on each side of the cobblestones were lit by the glow of lampposts fit for casual strolls and Gene Kelly spins. The alleyfelt much more like a film set than a real place in a big city. Ellie expected someone to leap out and call “Cut!” but the quaint detour remained silent.
A static fluttered around her, the knowingness of a place drawing her closer. This was how it always happened when she was on the brink of discovery. A building, or a bar, or a haunted taqueria would summon her and become an entry inThe Compendium of Forgotten Things. Finally—yes, finally—it was about to happen again.
Beyond a sprinkling of cafés and bakeries, a sleepy Irish pub, and an ice cream shop, with a rose-colored awning, called Mae’s Famous Scoops, the storefronts were empty. Their footsteps echoed up the walkway. The streetlamps flickered out one by one until Ellie and Drake were left standing in the near dark.
“Well? You ready to head back?” Drake asked.
Ellie wasn’t ready. Drake had missed something up ahead, but to be fair, she almost missed it herself. Faint light glazed the cobblestones at the very top of the alley. Drake threw his hand above his eyes and squinted. “What is that?”
The light grew brighter as they moved toward it and came upon the thing Ellie would’ve most wanted to be in this place. They were standing at the entrance of a glamorous vintage movie palace. A circular gold ticket booth adorned with Greek gods and goddesses, her old friends Poseidon and Artemis and Ares, made the first impression, and a marquee lined with flickering, Broadway-style bulbs spelled out the title of a film she’d never heard of before. Ellie turned her hands into binoculars against the cold glass doors of the cinema.
She gasped at what was inside. Luxurious red carpet led the way to twin stairwells that curled up both sides of the lobby like ribbons on a gift. Clinging to the rounded ceiling was an enormous chandelier. It was as elegant as an opera house—one of those fantastic cinemas that were nearly obsolete.
“The Story of You,” Drake read off the marquee. “Must be an art house thing.”
A voice cracked from inside the ticket booth. “Will it be two for the midnight movie?” Ellie hadn’t realized a person was in there. A galaxy of red acne dotted the teenage ticket boy’s cheeks. He was too tall for the confined space, a giant manning a tollbooth for dolls.
Ellie grabbed Drake’s wrist and looked at his watch. The seconds hand crept closer toward11:55, as if they’d planned it that way.
“Hey, no thanks,” Drake said. “We’re good.”
“No, we’re not,” Ellie insisted. She forced a casual tone. “I mean, yes. Yeah. We would like two tickets, please.”
Drake pulled her away for a sidebar. “It’s late,” he reminded her. “These theaters play experimental stuff at midnight.The Story of Yousounds like a movie where somebody cries too long in their shower.”
Ellie felt herself huff. “Who cares what the movie is? I’ve got to see the inside of this cinema.”
Drake yawned to make his point. “It’s just, by the time we get back—”
“I need this!” Ellie unintentionally stomped her foot.
