Eye to Eye (30 page)

“And me?”

It's so sweet and un-Zach-like, that even I am able to quell my inner intimacy-phobe.

“I love you, too. Most of all.”

He gropes a little farther down my leg.

“More than that flask you're hiding underneath the dress?”

“Let's not get crazy.”

 

Earl and Ronnie meet us at the packed theater. They're not quite as overdressed as Zach and myself, but they look very hip and very L.A. Ronnie has on an orange flowing tunic top with embroidery and an open V, with flared black pants and platform boots. She'd probably be freezing her ass off were it not for her appropriation of Earl's black leather biker jacket, which she has draped over her shoulders, warding off the cold. Earl is wearing a fitted black T-shirt, dressy jeans and cowboy boots. Very too cool for school.

“Look at you two,” Ronnie exclaims. “Very Lucy and Ricky. You gonna put on a show, Doris?”

“No, ma'am,” I say. “I'm going to be a good Lucy and watch my Ricky do his thing. But doesn't he look good? Who knew?”

“Who knew,” Earl says, gesturing at Zach with arms open and palms forward like, “How'd we get with these two kooky broads?”

“That your Scorsese accent?” Zach asks. “Pretty good.”

“
Not
the acting classes,” Ronnie pleads. “Please, please not tonight.”

Earl pulls her close and whispers something I can't quite make out in a Brandoesque mutter.

As the theater darkens, we all move to a table toward the center of the room with a Reserved plaque on top and an opened bottle of champagne hidden discreetly beneath. Zach welcomes the audience and concludes his short speech with, “Langsdale can be any place, really. I'd like to think that we can make this as culturally viable and enjoyable a venture as any this town has seen. We've got some great flicks lined up, and if you haven't seen tonight's you're in for a treat. And I'd especially like to thank Doris, and Ronnie and Earl for coming here, since it doesn't really mean much without people you love.”

God, but Zach was getting corny in my absence! Corny, but
sweet.

“So enjoy!” And on cue, the theater went dark, the curtains opened, and the fateful car crash that begins the film started to unfold. Zach sat down beside me, touching my knee. “How'd that sound?” he asks.

“Really, really good,” I tell him. “And very sweet.”

“Shh,” Ronnie says. “You two have any home training?”

“It's him. He's a terrible influence.”

I've seen
What Ever Happened to Baby Jane?
enough times that I could easily have my own Rocky Horror-esque banter with the screen, so instead of watching the film I look around the theater. The house is full, and most of the locals have dressed nicely for the evening. A few undergraduates in black pants and white shirts serve light appetizers, and the mood is good, the vibe optimistic. People are even laughing at the correct parts, acknowledging the campy romp that the film is. There's no way to tell whether or not this place will have legs, just as I can't tell now whether or not Ronnie and Earl will still be laughing together in three years or whether Zach and I will figure things out by summer.

But watching their half-illuminated faces, I feel lucky. Lucky that at this moment everything feels perfect, as absolutely perfect as any evening could be. Bette Davis and Joan Crawford hag it up, arguing, fighting up and down the stairwell, cooking rats. And after all that drama, you find out they don't even have their stories right. I decide now there's a lesson to be learned. A warning not to believe in a story so much that you lose sight of the present. Maybe Zach and I don't have an easy ending in clear sight, or a story that sounds terribly smart or familiar, but that doesn't mean that a happy ending can't happen.

“Space Shoes,” Ronnie whispers in my direction. “You're missing the best part.”

I look at the screen and Bette Davis is letting roll with everything she's got.

“Best hag ever,” I say.

Zach closes his hand over my own, and beside me I hear Earl murmur something soft and intimate in Ronnie's ear. For a second, I feel like Dorothy when she opens her eyes at the end of
The Wizard of Oz
to see all the familiar elements of two different lives blend in one instant of love and recognition. I click my black stiletto heels together, gently, in a gesture to myself, as Zach holds my hand tighter. It may not really be perfect, it may not even be forever, but it feels like home.