Page 7 of The Second Chance Cinema
Drake took a step closer and lowered his voice. “Ellie?”
“I haven’t seen a movie in forever.”
“We do Monster Movie Thursday every Thursday night.”
“I mean, in the theater. In a theater like this. Drake, this is an architectural wonder. You love this stuff.”
The ticket boy stared at them, either waiting for a decision or wishing for them to leave.
“You’re right.” Drake ran his hands through his hair. “Yeah. Okay. Let’s do it.”
Delighted, Ellie asked for two tickets again.
“So, this will be one ticket each, of your …” The ticket boyran his finger down a white piece of paper in front of him. “Your ten total tickets,” he said. He grabbed two metal boxes from the back of the desk and set a small spool of the pink paper tickets, like the ones Ellie had been given at raffles or carnivals, inside each lid. “We limit admission to the Saturday midnight movie,” he said. “And each of you will get a spool of only ten tickets.”
“Why?” Drake asked. “Seems like a weird policy.”
“Very weird. Very specific,” Ellie agreed.
“How do you even stay in business here?” Drake interrogated. “I mean, isn’t that the point? To get people to come back?” He was right, Ellie thought. The cinema didn’t even have a name on its marquee. Forget a social media presence—this place barely had the chance to build word-of-mouth business.
“I just do the tickets,” the ticket boy said. He shuffled around for something on his desk and located two blank nametag stickers and a marker, which he passed over through the slot. “Write your name on those.” Drake wrote on his sticker first, then handed the marker to Ellie. They passed the marker and stickers back through the small slot, which the ticket boy slapped onto each of the metal boxes.
“Five dollars each,” he said. “Ten total. Cash only.”
Drake pulled some cash out of his pocket, and they traded the money for their tickets.
Participating in something spontaneous felt so satisfying. Everything else Ellie had done in recent months was predictable. Even the shoes she was wearing were sensible. She tried to recall the last time she’d worn a clever pair of heels and made the least sensible choice possible.
It didn’t matter. Because, right then, she could feel a forgotten part of herself coming back.
4
The lobby lived up to its promise. Everywhere they wandered smelled of rose and bergamot, as if from a starlet’s elegant wrist. At Ellie’s feet, the carpet pooled out in a red floral lake, and above her head, the palatial chandelier reflected onto champagne-colored walls, creating a carousel of light. She could almost hear the ghosts of Bette Davis and Olivia de Havilland whispering halfway down the stairs, taking stock of the crowd as they waited for the picture to start. “Imagine all the fancy ladies who have stood right here,” Ellie marveled.
“You’re a fancy lady,” Drake said. Their eyes shot up toward the ceiling; the sound of their voices had fluttered at least twenty feet above them. No one else was around, which meant the tiniest noises broke through the quiet. Ellie’s footfalls reverberated on the carpet. In the bathroom, water thudded into the polished porcelain basins. They were also the only people inside the dazzling domed auditorium with tiered, red-velvet rows.
“Whoa,” Drake said when they stepped inside.
“Incredible,” Ellie agreed. They tiptoed forward, swallowed by empty seats.
“I don’t know if I’ve ever seen an actual movie palace,” he shared. “It’s even more incredible in person. I mean, look at how extravagant everything is. The way all the styles come together.” Drake’s eyes widened as he looked around the room. Ellie sensed he was about to geek out. His love of physical spaces transcendedconstruction—he was in awe of the blueprint and beginnings, too. On many occasions, she’d walked into the house to find him huddled over a stack of architecture magazines while buzzing about a thoughtful use of windows.
“I’d say the brass proscenium arch around the screen is inspired by the Beaux Arts movement,” Drake told her. “And check out the attention to detail on the foliage there”—he pointed to the tiny vines and leaves along the arch—“that’s pulling from the Greeks. I’m pretty sure the gold mask sconces on the walls are, too. But then, the lobby staircases and chandelier are a different vibe, French Baroque, maybe. These old movie palaces mashed up lavish styles, which made average guys like me feel like kings for the night. And I’ve gotta say, it works.” He kissed Ellie’s cheek. “I’m really glad we came in here,” he said. “It’s amazing. Thank you.”
Somewhere above them, a projector turned on. Ellie chose a row near the middle of the house as two gold-tassel curtains parted to reveal a screen, which was soon overtaken with a hot, round spotlight. They settled in. The lights faded from the eyes of the brass theater mask sconces that Drake had pointed out. Each one held a different expression—from a stiff grimace to a cheeky grin. Drake’s arm found its place around the back of her chair as a preshow cartoon played. Four cartoon hot dog friends danced out to the sound of a tinkling piano. “Tonight’s feature,” crooned an announcer, “isThe Story of You.” The hot dogs showed off their best Charleston, and the announcer laid out a series of instructions.
Don’t record what you see here tonight, or the picture will stop.
“Hey, about the conversation earlier …” Drake started. “I just meant that you can tell me anything. There’s nothing that’s going to scare me off. You know that, right?” He wasn’t paying attention, not even as a hot dog dug its fists into a bag overflowing with popcorn. What would it be like to eat a hot dog stuffed withpopcorn? Ellie wondered. She wanted to focus and memorize every detail about this place. It grated on her that Drake had chosen this moment as his first time to talk over a voice of authority.
If you need to stretch your legs, exit to the lobby, and the picture will pause.
“I feel like sometimes you store problems away instead of looking at them,” he said. “And I’m here to help you sort through anything. All of it.”
The Story of Youis only for you.
“What did he mean by that?” Ellie tapped Drake’s shoulder and pointed to the screen. “The Story of Youis only for you?”
