“He started snooping around in my phone. A red flag I should’ve seen coming. He saw some of these pictures of us from prom. I still had them saved on my phone, and he remembered that one of you I have up on my business website, in the portfolio section. He got really cagey and started asking all these questions about you. What we were like in high school, if we still talked. Honestly, he was possessive and intense and jealous, and he kind of messed me up. Especially when it came to my family.”
It’s sad how this is starting to sound like a Peter/Alice situation. A toxic relationship disguised as something sweet.
“He threatened to out me to some of my dad’s business partners,” Derick says after some time. My whole body tenses at that. “I know it’s ass-backwards, but the circle my dad runs in isn’t exactly open-minded and my dad is mum about my identity as is. If they knew Daniel P. Haverford has a gay son, they might choose to put their money elsewhere. My dad made that very clear.”
“Crap.” I pause, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, even though I know it’s not nearly enough. “I’m really sorry that happened to you.”
Derick nods appreciatively. “I thought about reaching out to you after Charlie and I broke up. I had mostly forgotten about those pictures until he cross-examined me about them. I remember I spent this one whole night scrolling through all the old high school albums, majorly stuck in my feels, and there were so many pictures I wanted to send to you. But then I remembered what I’d done and how much time had passed and, well, I felt like shit. I thought you’d blocked me on all social media because I couldn’t see your profiles.”
“I didn’t,” I’m quick to qualify. “Again, I set the accounts to private when I deleted the apps. It was easier that way.”
“I know that now, but I figured you didn’t want to hear from me.” He sets his paintbrush down in the tray. “So, you can imagine my surprise when I got your email.”
It all comes back to the whopping electronic elephant. And yet I’m surprised that this time around it doesn’t feel all that much like an elephant. It feels more like a house cat. An orange tabby strolling around somewhere. It only makes itself known when it needs food or wants a cuddle. Strange to think that maybe I’ve tamed it.
“I wish you had reached out,” I say at last.
“Me too.”
We complete the third wall in silence. There’s not much more to say. It’s not until we take a breather during number four that Derick reopens the dialogue.
“Are you going to get back to that Oscar guy about the podcast?”
I nod. If Dr. Tanson drilled one lesson into me, it’s that I need to build and maintain my contact network. Whatever happens with Alice, I need to ensure this line of communication stays open. Even if the idea of speaking on his podcast makes my skin seem like it’s melting off.
“What’s this talk about a podcast?” Alice asks, appearing out of thin air, ghostly in her all-white outfit. She moves with such silent agility. Her mouth is full. She’s scarfing down that leftover half of a doughnut. She better not crash from all that sugar. I can handle painting, but I can’t handle lifesaving resuscitation. “What even is a podcast? Is it like radio on demand?”
“Sort of,” I say. “It’s like long-form storytelling. The hosts are usually specialists in a field or actors playing characters. You can subscribe, stream, and download the episodes based on their release schedule. Lots of people listen to them on commutes or to unwind at the end of the day.”
“And what does the long-form storyteller want with you?” Her tone suggests I don’t have anything interesting to offer.
“Well, it’s not so much with me as it is with you.”
She brushes her hands clean of crumbs. I pull the paint tray out from under her so she doesn’t destroy the glops I’ve poured out for a second coat. “If you think I’m doing an interview, you’re deranged.”
“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. They just showed general interest in doing an episode onChompin’ at the Bitis all,” I say, sitting a spell on the edge of the step stool. “If you let us do the premiere, of course. It would really help boost sales at the drive-in. Exposure on a popular podcast could draw in revenue Earl really needs.” I shoot her my best pleading eyes.
“It seems stupid he’s struggling. I thought you youths were all about bringing back trends of the past. Bell bottoms and Polaroid cameras and TV shows that should’ve stayed dead and buried.” I have a suspicion she could gripe forever over how our generation has destroyed this country by being unoriginal consumers.
I shrug with the fate of the drive-in like an albatross around my shoulders. “Earl would never say it, but everyone has at least one streaming service now.” I’m about to addeven youbut think better of it. She’ll contort it into me calling her an old bat or something. “Everything is digital, even our equipment now. Those black-box projectors anybody with half a brain could turn on and control cost a lot. The expense to make those improvements was at least in the five digits, if not six. I’m still unsure how Earl managed that. As far as I can tell, we’ve been in the red for a while. I think he thought we could compete with IMAX and 3D and all the other newfangled technology, and we did for a few seasons. But that’s just it: we operate in just one season. It’s hard to see a return on an investment when you can’t be open year-round.”
“How hurt do you think the lot is?” Derick asks. “Ballpark.”
“Earl mentioned being down significantly in attendance from last season. He’s secretive about his books, but I’ve snuck a few peeks at his handwritten ledger in the office before. He’s not good about keeping it in a secure location. Not that he’s worried about anyone stealing money he doesn’t have.” I grab Derick’s roller and finish the section of wall I was working on.
“There’s nothing good to see in theaters these days anyway. Superheroes and remakes? I see all the trailers. No thank you.” Alice’s distaste causes her lips to gather and her eyes to squint like she’s just eaten the world’s tartest lemon square.
“Still, it’s a fixture.”
“Even fixtures have to close shop sometimes,” Derick says. I glare at him. “What? I’m just being real. My social-media savvy can only do so much.”
“That’s why the podcast could be a major boon!”
“Podcast schmodcast.” Alice riffles through her box and pulls a photo from it. I’m just close enough to peer over her shoulder.
I’m not trying to be nosy, but she makes a big show of looking at it, bringing it increasingly closer to her face. It must be terrible to have your eyes betray you the way hers have. The engraved frame is weathered, yet the photo is clear, three girls smiling, shoulder-length hair curling up at the edges, wearing houndstooth skirts and floral blouses.
“Is that Annie?” I ask. Alice had one younger sister and five older brothers. It must’ve been a busy farm. Annie had a brief career in the movies as well but never made it big.
