Everything
was working as they had planned. They made themselves busy as they
always did, cleaning and organizing. Mr. Waters, the ticket seller and
owner closed down the booth below the marquee and walked to the
concession stand where Matt already had the register open. He stuck
the second tray atop the first and carried both to the back room and
closed the door.
Inside
he relit a cigar that he had left in the ashtray on his desk and poured
himself a shot which he downed in one gulp. He counted out the cash
then counted it a second time before writing in his ledger. He counted
out the same number of small bills he always kept in the cash registers
and stuck those inside a locked drawer of his desk then stuck the rest
in an envelope that he put in the breast pocket of his sports coat.
He
stroked at his white beard as he puffed on his cigar and stared at the
few pictures of classic women thumb tacked to his bulletin board before
standing with a grunt and making his way back out of the room. He
locked the office door, thanked the boys for their hard work, and ambled
out of the front entrance of the theater. He stopped on the sidewalk
for a few puffs, Trey felt as if he was almost looking back at them, as
if he knew something, but then he continued on his way.
“Do you think he knows?” Trey asked.
“Dude, how would he know unless you told him?” Matt said.
“I just feel bad for the guy--”
“--he’s
like always three sheets to the wind. He doesn’t care about anything.
He smokes cigars and he drinks whiskey like a fish. What do you think
he spends the night’s take on? Dude, if I live to be that old I would
be just like him and I wouldn’t care what a bunch of kids wanted to do
in my theater after the main show.”
“Then don’t you think we should’ve told him?”
“No
way, deniability man, it’s all about deniability. Sure like thirty
years ago things would be a lot different but the way they have things
these days it’s all about getting away with it.”
“I don’t know,” Trey said.
“Dude
we did it,” Matt replied. “I’m going to take some popcorn up to Dan
then as soon as these yokels clear out we can get on with the show.
Deep Throat like it was meant to be seen, oh yeah baby.” Matt began to
pump his hips and swing his hand as if he were spanking an ass.
Trey
pulled a stool up to the counter and pulled his phone from his pocket
again to check for messages but there weren’t any so he sat in
indifference as Matt did exactly what he said he would do.
They
weren’t doing anything wrong, he thought, at least not really wrong.
They weren’t stealing. And it was all about deniability these days and
yeah things were different before. Mr. Waters himself told stories
about the hell he raised as a kid and how he felt lucky to retire as the
owner of the only theater in town.
Maybe
he would be proud of them in some way but maybe he was the least to
worry about. Their parents, his parents, would be the worst of it with
long speeches about ruining their lives and permanent records but if he
learned anything from TMZ it was that people get second chances and they
have a thing called recovery.
His
head sunk down in his hand so that he was almost holding it up by his
hair when the main door opened and Brian stepped into the lobby, a
cardboard box under his arm. He walked the twelve steps with a cocky
stride then set the box down on the counter.
“How’s it going? Uh, give me a box of those Snow Caps,” Brian said.
“Can’t,
we’re closed for the night. You just missed the boss. And you’re
early. You shouldn’t have brought that in here.” He sat up and tucked
the phone in his pocket.
“Dude relax, I know, Matt texted me about it.”
“Oh,” Trey said.
“No one will notice.”
“Can’t,” Trey replied. “But you can have all the extra popcorn and fountain drinks that you want.”
“Okay, it’s cool, no need to get all self-righteous on me. Hey, I’m going to run this up to the booth.”
Brian
sprinted away and Trey laid himself out on the counter atop his own
arms. This was the worst part of it, knowing all the possibilities,
having all the uncertainties, being the only responsible person. He
closed his eyes for a second when the door the theater opened and out
stepped a young woman who held the door for her mother who used a
walker. She moved in front of the display and began to eye the
confections.
“I’m sorry but we’re sort of closed,” Trey said.
“Fine,” the younger woman said before she walked away.
The older woman looked up to him. She had a wrinkled but pleasant face, white hair in a bun and a purse on her arm.
“Come on kid, I could die tomorrow.”
“Well.”
He looked around the lobby then back to her. “As long as you have
exact change I can give it to the owner tomorrow morning.”
“I’ll have the Snow Caps,” she said.
He pulled them from under the glass and set them atop the counter as she finagled her purse open and got to her change purse.
“That’ll be four bucks,” he said.
“Even with the senior discount?”
“Oh, well,” he tried to remember what it was. “Three fifty then?”
“How about three bucks?”
“Huh, look I’m not running a--”
“No, it says right there three dollars,” she pointed to the display.
“Oh yeah,” he said.
She
began to count out one dollar bills when Brian emerged from the booth
door with a hop and ran behind the counter. “Dude you’re letting her
buy something but you won’t let me?” He poured popcorn into a bag then
jogged around to the door of the theater. Trey scowled at him then
asked him where he was headed.
“Dude
it’s Humphrey Bogart in the Maltese Falcon, the only other time I saw
it was a pirated version a couple of years ago.” He opened and closed
the door before Trey could respond and it didn’t matter because the
woman slid her money to him then stuck the candy in her purse.
“Thanks,” she said.
“Thank you,” he replied.
He
waited until she was gone before he stuck the cash in his wallet where
he would remember to give it to Mr. Waters, behind a coupon for a free
second burger with the purchase of a meal, because the cash register was
stuck open and there was no place else to hide the money.
************
After
their showing of Deep Throat, and after cleaning up their paper bags of
popcorn and cups, they stood around the concession stand for a time
talking about pornography; the largest breasts, the best action, the
highest quality and the most disgusting. Finally after having talked
about nearly everything pornographic they decided to head out. Trey
went to the front doors one last time to make sure the lock was secure
and chain as tight as possible before following Dan, Matt, and Brian out
the back where he locked the door behind them.
“That was a lot of fun guys,” Brian said with the film tucked under his arm as he was headed down the opposite way.
“See
you later,” the three echoed before picking up a conversation about
70’s rock music. They headed out to Main Street where within a few
blocks Dan signaled that he was headed a different direction so they
stopped under a street light. Trey suddenly remembered the curfew and
he looked up and down the street for a cop car before looking at his
watch.
Matt
was always after him for worrying so he didn’t want to say anything but
he also didn’t want to add to the conversation so he crossed his arms
and stepped back. Matt talked and talked even when Dan signaled he
wanted to leave to spite Trey. Then after the third time Dan said he
had to go Matt gave him a fist bump before saying that he would see him
later then turned to walk with Trey.
“You’re an ass,” Trey said.
“I try,” Matt said.
“I know you do.”
They
crossed Main Street and headed down Hickory occasionally turning on
exterior house lights as they passed, the familiar sidewalks of cement
broken by tree roots.
“I
think we should do this every night we can. I mean we couldn’t get a
print for everything but maybe we could figure out a way to project
other stuff. We could watch Star Wars and Ghostbusters, and Silence of
the Lambs, all the classic movies. Hell we could charge kids from
school to come. It would be a great way to make money.”
“Especially since we would be doing it illegally,” Trey said.
“Hey, it’s called free market capitalism.”
“No, I think it’s still called stealing.”
“Whatever,
I’m not serious but we would make more money than old Mr. Waters. He’s
a has been, probably lost it all on some woman in a divorce so now he
spends his money on cheap liquor while he pays us minimum wage or under
the table.”
“Who’s he paying under the table?”
“Not saying.”
“He’s paying you?”
“It could be.”
“Who else would it be? No one would tell you that.”
“It’s
less than you guys make an hour but it pays out in the end because I
don’t have to do taxes. My brother helped me figure it out.”
“That sucks, I’m stuck paying taxes on that bullshit job.”
“Yeah, well, it’s all bullshit anyway. Don’t worry you still make more than I do.”
“Really? I guess, that doesn’t suck too much then.”
They had made it to Matt’s place so they stopped.
“Come over tomorrow and we’ll see if we can kill lots of zombies on the ol’ Xbox.”
“Yeah sure,” Trey said.
Matt
opened the gate to his yard then made his way to the front door where
he greeted his pet dog Spike and pushed his way inside before closing
the door. Trey turned on the site and pulled his hoodie up over the
back of his head before zipping it closed and continuing on his way.
Suddenly
there was a strange quietness about the night. There were no crickets,
no cars, no dogs, no birds, not even the hoot of an owl. Just
darkness.
But
it was a familiar walk, he told himself. And next year when he had the
money he would have his own car to drive, something used. He would
take it to college with him.
As
well as he knew the walk though he kept tripping on the sidewalk so he
decided to walk out in the street. He could hear, any car miles away...
there, a sound behind him, the snap of a twig. He looked back but he
could barely make out anything, just the flat sides and corners of
houses, the shapes of trees, and the night sky with a thousand pinholes
of light. A tree top shook violently. Scratching to the right on the
rooftop.
There
was something out there. No that didn’t make sense. There were no
monsters, probably just birds, but it didn’t matter. No one had to
know. He wasn’t going to run out of fear just that it would be quicker.
He turned and began to dash for his house along the tree lined street.
His feet slapped at the road, he pumped his legs as hard as he could,
his hood fell down to his back. It wasn’t far.
It
wasn’t far. That was when he felt it on his back a punch between his
shoulder blades then the street rushing at his face. Oh no, he thought,
I hate tripping and falling down. He put out his hands and it all
rushed up through his body before his chest hit with more force than he
ever thought possible and all the air was gone. Darkness.
******************************
There
was a slow rhythmic beeping. He felt cool and smooth. His head to the
side, drool on his shoulder. He made out the corner of the room then
the wall and finally he realized he was in a hospital room. He thought
to wipe the drool away but his hand was stuck, both of them were tied to
the metal bars on the side of the bed.
Wires
ran from him to machines by his bedside. He looked up to see the tiled
ceiling. No one came running. Nothing seemed to alert anyone.
“Help me,” he said. But it was to himself. “Help me! Help me!”
A nurse ran into his room and stopped at the foot of his bed.
“You’re awake,” the nurse said.
“Yes I’m awake. Now untie me.”
The nurse set to working on the strap of his left hand but it wasn’t fast enough.
“Don’t go pulling on any of the wires or anything. You’ve got a catheter so just let it go.”
“A what?”
And as he writhed with his legs he finally felt it, a plastic tube running from the tip of his penis down between his legs.
“What the hell is that?”
“It’s a catheter just let yourself go and don’t try to pull it out.”
“Shit,”
Trey said putting his head back and trusting the nurse. He wrinkled
his brow in the act and he felt a something was covering his forehead,
something that was taped there just under his bangs.
“There, feel better?”
“Yeah, sort of. How long have I been out?”
“Four days,” the nurse said. “They found you in the street.”
“How did I get here?”
“Some neighbors brought you in. You got really lucky no one ran you over.”
With
the straps gone Trey looked down to his forearms and for the first time
he saw where the strap had been a bandage on his forearm about three
inches long and two inches wide.
“What happened to me?”
“You don’t remember?”
“No,” he said.
“Oh boy,” the nurse replied. “Well let me unstrap your feet then we can do something about the catheter.”
“Do you know what happened to me?”
“Not
really, just when you came in they thought you were attacked by an
animal or something. Your clothes were ripped and you had these strange
scars.”
“Scars?”
“Yeah, one on your arm there and one on your head.”
“Would you get me a mirror? I want to see it.”
“Not right now. It’s covered to keep it clean. It was much worse than your arm there.”
Trey
looked down at the patch on his arm. How could it be worse? The nurse
lifted up his gown and he felt the tube pull tight against his body.
She collapsed the bulb that helped hold it inside his body.
“On the count of three,” the nurse said.
“One, two, ah!”
“Three,” the nurse said with a firm jerk.
“What the hell?” Trey said reaching down to cover his crotch.
“It’s over,” the nurse said.
“Oh god, I am going to be sick.”
The
nurse reached for a pan but he pushed it away and tried to make his way
around the metal railing when he felt the sickness swell up in him so
that he began to vomit right there.
A
thick grey liquid projected from his mouth and out onto the floor, down
over his gown and onto the edge of the bed. He felt woozy but he kept
pushing so that he was out of bed and even though he avoided the largest
part of the liquid he still stepped in some of it.
“Careful,” the nurse said.
He
turned away and began to walk to the bathroom. “I’m fine he said.”
His legs felt rubbery. He grabbed hold of the sink and bent over it
but nothing came out. Nothing came out.
Two
hours later he sat in his hospital bed staring into a hand mirror
studying the patch over his forehead while his parents sat in the nearby
chairs as they watched Jeopardy. The room smelled freshly antiseptic.
They talked about little things. No one said what they were thinking.
Another
half hour and they were gone. He stared at the bandage again, began to
pick at the tape until it unfolded from his forehead. He pulled it
away to reveal an open wound oval in shape but rough around the edges.
He could see bone, at least what he thought was bone, but it was marked
somehow. Small rectangular shapes, almost carved into his skull, no
definitely carved into his skull, but they looked like something.
They
looked like teeth. They were teeth. It was a mouth. And then there
was a sound, a sound like grunting and he looked out into the hallway,
to the bathroom but no one was there. He heard it again but that time
he felt something, the sound was louder and his forearm hurt. His
forearm. He looked to it. The patch. He pulled it off to reveal
stitches that held together skin and he saw it twitch, the skin twitched
and there was the sound again.
No wait, he thought, this isn’t real.
“Hey,” a voice sounded from him, from his forehead.
“Wait,
no wait,” he said. He held the mirror up to see the teeth. It was
like a loose grin in the reflection. His forearm sounded again and it
hurt more. “No wait, really it hurts.” He looked to the scar to see
blood had begun to run from the stitches.
“Just wait,” he said. “The stitches have to be taken out.”
“Wait for what?” his forehead said. “You have to help my friend he needs to speak.”
More
noise from his arm and it hurt more. I have to do something, he
thought, so he pushed himself from his bed and limped out to the
hallway. He spotted the nurse’s station and began to make his way to
it. He was surprised to find it empty.
Then
he saw the scissors behind the counter and he grabbed them, clutching
them in his hand he began to walk back to his room, ready to hide the
scissors at a moments notice.
He
made it back to his room and closed the door. He opened the scissors
and began to cut at the stitches. The wound opened like a pair of lips,
toothless lips.
“I can breath,” they said.
“Breath? You can’t breath,” his forehead said.
“What the hell? I don’t understand.”
“Stay out of this,” his forehead replied.
“Yeah, stay out of this,” the toothless lips added.
It
was as if together they made a complete mouth, a complete second mouth,
but they didn’t really. And they began to talk, talk to each other as
if Trey didn’t exist. Trey made his way to his bed where he flopped
onto his back into the inclined position. He felt weak and he didn’t
know what they talked about anymore because they weren’t talking to him.
It
was as if they spoke a foreign tongue, white noise. Did the teeth in
his head move like the lips in his arm? Were these scars or something
else? He stared ahead at the archway to the bathroom not wanting to
find out by looking in the mirror but too afraid if he closed his eyes
that he would fall back asleep.
They kept talking.
