Page 70 of The Second Chance Cinema
A brown cardboard box waited on the front porch. Their neighbor, Rich, had left a note on it: “think I got your delivery yesterday?” Drake carried the box inside and let it fall to the living room floor with a thud. Lifting it was a struggle. What would the guys he worked with say if they saw him like this? He could’ve carried hundreds of similar boxes a few years ago.
Ellie Marshall and Drake Nielson, the label said.
The cardboard scratched his hands as he tore the top open. Nancy set her head between her paws and burrowed into the rug, bracing herself for impact. Drake didn’t have to reach far to find the green cards inside.
The Save the Dates were one of Ellie’s few contributions to planning their wedding. He’d practically begged her to pick them out. “Choose the color,” Drake had said as they circled the stationery shop. “Please?” Ellie paused in the green section. The lady who worked at the store buzzed over and told them that green was a good choice. Green meant money and success.
“And they say you can’t buy happiness,” Ellie smirked. Drakewanted to leave the card color to her, he reiterated. If she left it up to him, he probably would’ve picked red.
“Red. Really?” Ellie thumbed through some mint-hued sample cards. “Drake. Red is an omen.”
“That’s what I’m saying. I’m not thinking of this in, like, a philosophical way.”
They settled on the mint color. The name was cute, mint chip, which is what won Ellie over. The hard part, she decided, was going to be finding the right visual for the front of the cards.
The right visual was now staring up at Drake. There they were again, posed in front of a white limousine. A fabric rose dangled from Ellie’s mouth. They were drunk and happy and in Vegas. As he studied it more, though, the photo found an edge. Ellie had chosen to feature the wedding that never was on their Save the Date cards. Was their marriage all some big joke to her?
Drake checked his phone. She still hadn’t called or texted, so he distracted himself by watching home renovation shows. The banter and beautiful reveals he usually found satisfying were spoiled on him. There was something on the coffee table that stole his attention—the object that Ellie had pulled from their high shelf and left there for him to face.
The music box.
Drake picked the box up for the first time since they moved. A purple paper was sticking out of the bottom compartment. He recognized it right away; it was one of the notes Melinda wrote to the new owner of whatever treasure she had sold. He hadn’t readthisnote before because the box was never his, technically speaking. But last night, it had entered their world in a new way. Whatever was inside of the scroll now seemed personal.
Drake opened the cold silver compartment on the bottom, yanked the paper out, and read what it said to Nancy. “Find someone who makes you dance.”
Nancy sneezed.
Find someone who makes you dance?
The advice Melinda had written didn’t add up. She penned this note for an anonymous buyer, not knowing it washim.Right before she had broken Drake’s heart, Melinda doled out advice based on their relationship. The person who made her dance had to be him, didn’t it? This note was proof that something had changed for her so suddenly in those weeks before the proposal. She woke up one day, decided he wasn’t for her, and said goodbye so easily.
After last night, Drake feared the same thing was happening again.
A wave of red peaked over him—a dark, deep red that took him by surprise. He didn’t let himself get angry often. If he did, it was in a controlled setting. The Wakeford Heights units were a safe place to smash a hammer against something while looking productive. But now, it all came pouring out. The music box represented the way the past kept repeating itself, the cycles he couldn’t break. His fight with Ellie. His breakup with Melinda. His failure all around.
Drake set the box back down on the shelf. The top lid flipped open, and he turned the key to punish himself. Slowly, classical music filled the room. The same song that had played when he danced with Melinda mocked him.
It felt like a soundtrack to endings.
In a wave of anger, Drake shoved the box to the ground. Tiny parts shattered at his feet, a beach of gold and silver bits and white limbs.
He was out of control. Waiting around for Ellie and ruminating would only lead to more bad decisions. So he got in the car, without a destination, and started to drive.
Drake only realized he was headed to his parents’ house when he was halfway there. He knew his mom would sit him down andoffer some good advice. “Fighting’s normal, hon. That’s when you know it’s real,” she’d insist, even though Drake couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen his parents fight.
But as he neared the condo, Drake kept driving. Then, he surprised himself. He was turning onto Main Street, right in the direction of the shop-filled downtown. Avoiding this area had become Drake’s party trick; he’d mapped another route for his mom’s errands that bypassed Main Street by taking three extra right turns. He even managed to steer Ellie away for a while by telling her, “It’s not very charming.” This street, he knew, was the poster child for charm.
And now, he was sliding into a space right in front of Melinda’s shop.
He’d come here, for what, some kind of delayed closure? For finally facing the music? His hands gripped the steering wheel. Did the music need to be faced? Backing out was the best choice, but by the time he made that call, a loud knock landed on his passenger window. He glanced up, anticipating Melinda. Instead, he found Jamie, waving and motioning for him to roll the window down. Two coffees wobbled inside the carrier balanced on his arm.
“Hey, man,” Jamie said as the cold air poured in. “You in town for the party?”
“Party?” Drake asked. It was early in the day for a party, but that’s how things went around there. The entire town was on a self-imposed curfew. Stores closed at four, dinner happened around five, and people were tucked into bed by nine.
“Melinda’s having an event for the customers later,” Jamie explained. “You should come!”
“I’m just driving through,” Drake insisted. He spotted the sign on the door at Smithe’s for an all-day pancake special and used it as an excuse. “My mom wanted late-afternoon pancakes.”
