Page 75 of The Second Chance Cinema
“What’s that?” Drake asked.
She set an arm on his back to ease his concern. “We need to set the rules on fire.”
33
Drake and Ellie lucked out; Nancy had not eaten the aftermath of the music box mess on the floor. Ellie spotted the remnants after they changed into their pajamas. The dancer had taken the brunt of the fall; she was without an arm and a leg, putting her in a tipsy fifth position.
“What do you mean, you broke it?” Ellie asked when Drake explained what happened. She held the tiny toy arm under the light. The edges were sharp on her fingers.
“I sort of threw it.” Drake shuffled around the rug to make sure he picked up all the other elements of the crime scene. “Not sort of. I definitely threw it.”
“Well, okay.” Ellie nodded. “That adds up.” She flipped the broken box on its back to assess the damage. The edge of a familiar lavender paper was still sticking out of the small slot in the bottom. “Ah-ha,” Ellie said. She thumbed it out, unrolled it on the table, and read the message that Melinda must have written for the next owner. “Find someone who makes you dance.”
Ellie remembered those words. She had read them on her first visit to Drake’s old apartment. As he gave her a tour, she noticed everything he owned had a function; even his wall art let the viewer know they were near a big city. The music box was so out of place that it had grabbed her attention. Ellie picked it up, lifted the lid, and twisted the music key. The dancer began to spin. How could Drake have known she’d had one just like it whenshe was a kid? It was the perfect gift. At least, it had seemed like the perfect gift before she knew its backstory.
“It was kind of a weird gift,” Ellie called out. “Why did you give this to me?”
“I didn’t,” Drake clarified.
Ellie pointed a finger into his chest. “Yes, you did!”
Drake pulled the accusing finger off him. Ellie was wrong. He never gave her the box; she hadfoundit. Ellie had arrived early that night and caught him in the middle of trying to stash anything off-putting out of sight. He’d managed to grab his embarrassing childhood heirlooms, but he’d missed the most important thing to hide. “I had the box out because I was going to get rid of it,” he explained. “But you found it first. I agreed it was a gift because you decided it was one.”
Ellie nodded. Everything about that night made more sense— how Drake had avoided eye contact and left the room before she read the purple paper to him. “There are so many things that could’ve been solved if we’d talked to each other,” she said, leaning back onto her elbows. Drake shot up off the floor with new determination.
“Speaking of talking,” he said. “I liked your idea to burn the cinema rules.”
Ellie hadn’t meant a literal fire. But minutes later, she found herself following Drake outside and watching him stack wood in the backyard fire pit. The blaze smoldered and twisted into the dark sky. Drake dropped the paper with the rules on it above the red waves, and they crinkled to ash. The cold air made Ellie’s shoulders shiver, despite the pyrotechnics. As she jogged in place a little, she started to speak.
“In honor of burning the rules,” Ellie said. She looked at Drake for reassurance. He nodded for her to keep going. “The worstpart of watching your memories was, I could really see you with Melinda.” Drake heaved another log on the fire. “I know she’s with Jamie, but I could see you happy together. Even now.” Ellie’s words struggled to come out. It was like she was tugging on a zipper that kept getting mired in fabric. Eventually, though, the zipper budged. “I wondered if she would’ve been better for you. You had so much in common—”
“Too much,” Drake blurted. “We had too much in common. With you, there’s friction. I think I need that friction, or I’d never grow. But sometimes, I get this sense …I’m afraid you think I’m boring. I mean, I’m no cowboy.”
“How did we get to cowboys, partner?” Ellie was dodging that she’d been called out. She knew what Drake meant; Hudson had drawn her in more than anyone she had dated back then. While Ellie had been busy thinking about how similar she and Melinda were, Drake had been weighing howdifferenthe was from what he believed her type to be.
“That guy was so complicated and artsy,” Drake said. “I’m nothing like the cowboy. I’m more like that Lucas guy with the loft. Only Lucas with a less expendable income. Lucas, without glassware.”
Ellie didn’t care about glassware, but she couldn’t get this out before Drake continued his thought.
“You told Jen you didn’t want to end up with someone like him,” Drake explained. “So, I’m sitting there thinking,that’s me.She doesn’t want to end up with me.And when I saw the cowboy, I kept coming back to that quote in ‘Yellow Dress.’ Your first love prepares you for your second love, which is the real love. It scares me that I’m your first love, Ellie. What if I’m the one you leave?”
Ellie nodded. “I get that fear,” she said. “I think mine was the opposite. Like, what if I’m just a replacement for the person you can’t let go of?”
Drake wrapped his arm around her waist. He’d thought hewas the only one with that nagging worry of being abandoned, but Ellie had felt it, too. Drake had been so lost in his private world that he hadn’t done enough to show her there was never a competition. Melinda was only a chapter in the story that led to him ending up with Ellie. “You’re not a replacement,” he said. “Not at all. But I get why you would think that, seeing as I repeated pretty much everything in our relationship.”
“Yes.” Ellie nodded. “Thank you.”
Drake shared the breakthrough he had on his trip home. He was afraid of risks because his parents were afraid of risks. He repeated parts of his old relationship because those elements were comfortable and familiar. But in doing that, he’d failed to help them build something new together. They hadn’t gotten a true fresh start.
“I’ve been afraid of risks, too,” Ellie admitted. “Loving someoneisscary for me. I don’t want to have to say goodbye to a person I love again. You’re the only person who has been worth that risk.”
They both fell silent. A dog next door howled over the wood fence, the moon beaming bright overhead. The conversation was freeing. And the rules, they both realized without acknowledging it, had turned to ash. The rest came tumbling out quickly.
“I shouldn’t have lied to Hudson.”
“I should’ve told you where that ring came from.”
“I shouldn’t have bought my wedding dress at her store. God, that was dumb.”
