“Shhhh,” I demand. “Just pretend like you’re there.”
The camera is shaky, but the quality is 4K, so I relax into it.
The ride debuted in 1989. It takes you into a replica of the Chinese Theatre where you board a roving car with an actor aboard, ready to guide you through the sights and sounds of great moments in cinema from Sigourney Weaver inAlien’s greatest jump scare to Gene Kelly singing in the rain. TheCasablancamoment, showcasing the animatronic lovers in their last embrace, jolts my heart awake.
They’ll always have Paris. Will Derick and I always have Wiley’s?
I forgot how tight a squeeze this love seat was. It’s been a while since someone’s been down here with me. Derick and I are shoulder to shoulder. We both sink sideways into the walloping dip between the cushions. It’s uncomfortable yet comforting.
I tune back in right at my favorite part: Munchkinland lights up in vibrant glory. “Ding Dong! The Witch is Dead” rings out from the sound bar in front of my TV.
“Did you know that back in the day asking someone if they were a friend of Dorothy was a euphemism for being gay?” It’s a tidbit Mateo loves to tout anytime someone brings up Judy Garland. And let’s face it, our college had a big performing-arts department, so people were always (always) bringing up Judy Garland.
Derick holds out a hand to me. “Nice to meet you, friend of Dorothy.”
“Same to you, fellow friend of Dorothy.” We shake hands once, twice, the gesture lingering for seconds longer than it should. Lightning zaps up from my palm, surges through my forearm, and strikes my heart.
I have to force myself to pull away, and even then, it’s like he’s left behind a phantom hand I never want to let go of.
When the video ends and the next in the playlist from this user begins to buffer, I go to switch the TV off. It’s late. We should go.
But Derick asks, “Can we watch another?” He’s enlivened somehow, no longer beat from being on his feet all night. “I’m enjoying these. It’s still a little weird, but it’s…soothing. I see why you like them.”
I smile. “Sure.” Anything to spend more time with him, to not let our little late-night bubble burst just yet.
I allow the Peter Pan video to load, and a cozy feeling to take up residence in my chest.
That’s how we fall down a rabbit hole of ride POVs and how we end up falling asleep, nuzzled into each other, on the couch in my family’s basement.
Chapter 13
Derick isn’t anywhere to be found when I wake up.
Thank God. That’s not a situation I wanted to explain to my parents. Claire would turn it into something it wasn’t, doing that classic younger sibling act. I’ve barely been home since graduation. If they even so much as catch a glimpse of me, they’re going to want to catch up. With so much going on, I don’t have the energy to withstand that conversation.
This isn’t some sordid romance movie, so Derick doesn’t leave a note or a clue or a token of his affection. The only vestige is the shape of him slowly fading from the couch cushions. I trace the outline with my finger. It’s still warm. He can’t have been gone long, and it’s sweet that he didn’t wake me. Instead, he draped me in a blanket and left me to dream.
That’s what last night felt like—a dream. A fabrication, faraway and nonsensical. That handshake, the videos, all of it. Except the YouTube playlist is still looping on silent, so I know it happened. I shut the TV off. If I don’t see it, I don’t have to come to terms with the residual emotions.
When I find my phone, fallen under the couch, I notice a new email from Oscar waiting:
Dear Wren,
Fabulous news about August 14th! That means we should get a move on. Any chance you can make it into Manhattan for a two-day stay? Let’s say around July 14th. That gives us plenty of time to watch the movie, discuss, come up with questions, and hop into the studio for a session. My editor will then be able to finesse the episode. We can build some buzz leading up to a release date and then supply a good lead-in to your event.
Let me know if this is good for you.
I hug my phone to my chest, not knowing what else to do with these cheerful feelings.
Without too much thought, I shoot off a text to Derick, wherever he may be right now:
Any chance you’re down for a trip to NYC soon?
There’s no one else I could take with me. No one that would understand the heft of it anyway. Derick’s as entrenched in this Alice project as I am. Even if he’s not as entrenched in his ooey-gooey romantic feelings as I am.
If Derick agrees to the trip, maybe I’ll listen to “You’ve Got a Friend in Me” by Randy Newman while staring at Derick’s yearbook photo as psychological conditioning before we go. Anything to make the heart palpitations stop and ensure a successful excursion.
Upstairs, I hear a notification ding from down the hall. I pause before heading toward our second story. It’s probably just Claire on her phone in the family room. Derick has to be on his way home by now, right?
