Usually, I’m the last one logged in since Earl doesn’t use Gmail (since he thinks Google is keeping too many tabs on him), but I’m surprised to see his own sketchy email browser opened. The inbox is mostly ads for multivitamins; hair regrowth treatments; big-box stores; and, inexplicably, a multitude of Bath & Bodyworks special offers. He must really enjoy his foaming, floral hand soaps.
It’s beyond the coupons and deals that I spy an email address I don’t expect to see:
FROM:[email protected]
SUBJECT:Review Board Meeting
Dear Earl Wiley,
Thank you for meeting with me to discuss the demolition of your drive-in. I understand how long this business has been in your family and sympathize with the struggles of management and upkeep of a small business such as yours. Any Weather was nothing more than a single bus and a dream when it started.
As discussed, I am prepared to go before the Historic Review Board on Tuesday to get our certificate of appropriateness for full demolition. Any Weather will, in turn, make the drive-in a paid commuter parking lot for a new, commercial Willow Valley bus line pickup hub. This is crucial to the livelihood of our community, so we assure you: this is the right thing to do.
You, being an upstanding Willow Valleyian, see the value and immense opportunity this can bring to a small town such as ours. We honor the history of what you, your father, and your grandfather built, but know that today, everything is accessible by phone and on the go. There is simply no need for a drive-in nor a want for the novelty of one.
You are welcome to attend the meeting as our application provides certainty that we intend to fund a historic marker commemorating your lot to be displayed by the pay machines. A prime location of remembrance.
Again, thank you for your understanding. This was a difficult decision for me as well.
Your fellow townies will be forever grateful to you for your sacrifice.
Only my best,
Daniel P. Haverford
Qualified rage flames out from my gut. While I was off in New York City, giving my best go at creating an event that could help resuscitate this place, Earl was off solidifying its demise? Sure, we’re hurting. Sure, we’re a non-necessity. Hell, we may even be a relic like Earl said earlier this summer, but we’re also nostalgia, love, joy. A place to make memories.
Novelty? What does Daniel P. Haverford know about novelty? We provide summer delight in the night! Earl says it every year, and I witness it on the faces of those that leave our lot happy with salty fingers and plenty to discuss. How could this be happening when everything seemed to be going so well?
Emails continue to be my undoing. I wish the whole pesky platform would destruct, but yeah right, the internet is forever. I thought Wiley’s was too. How naive I’d been.
My impulse is to go searching for Earl, but when I whip around, he’s already there, looking at me with folded arms and anguish threaded into his brow. I go to yell, finger pointed and trembling, but nothing comes out. My voice is stuck in my throat, blocked up by too many garbled words.
“I’m sorry, kid.” He starts to sweat under his mustache, a telltale sign that what I just read wasn’t a fabrication.
“You’re sorry?” I croak. “You sold the drive-in for what, a parking lot? Why would you do that?”
He closes the door so nobody can hear us. “I didn’t sell recently, Wren. Mr. Haverford already owned the lot. It’s his decision what to do with it.”
“Wh-what?” I stammer.
“A while back, when studios stopped printing films of their features, I had a choice to make: pawn the 35mm 1949 projectors and go digital or stop showing new releases. I knew we couldn’t compete in the market if we went the retro route.” His hands dig so deep into the pockets of his threadbare jeans that I fear his fingers might pop out the other side. “The decision was simple: secure the money, or shutter. No bank was willing to front a loan that big. You know I don’t do the internet-asking-for-handouts thing. I went to the only man I knew who would have the capital to keep us afloat. His family has had roots in Willow Valley for as long as mine has. We go way back. He grew up here. He saw movies here. I knew he would help.”
“Help? You call thishelping?”
“Keep your voice down,” Earl demands. “I’ve been leasing the land under a handshake agreement with him for years now. If I met the annual deadlines in full, I got to keep the drive-in operating on my own terms. But things have been slipping, kid. I’ve been struggling with the financing.”
“That’s why I did all this Alice Kelly stuff! To save this place! To bring buzz! You’re just going to stand there and take it?” The welling, waiting tears threaten to fall, but I won’t let them.
I know I’m throwing a tantrum. I can’t stop it. The bratty little boy inside me—the one that begged to stay up past his bedtime to watch the second feature from our backyard—is standing in this room, stomping his feet. I’m red-faced, overcome with more conflicting emotions than ever before.
“That’s unfair!” I’ve never heard him shout before. “I’ve worked my whole life to keep this place open! I met with him. I pled my case. His mind was already made up… It wasn’t a meeting. It was a formality. He fed me a steak dinner, told me the drive-in was being paved over, and handed me an expensive cigar as a parting gift.” His stern gaze bores through me, his eyes never-ending black holes. “And don’t kid yourself. Your work was for you! I wanted you to have this as your final memory of working here. I was giving you the chance you’ve always wanted, knowing this might be our last go-around.”
Anger makes way for soul-crushing sadness. It’s like I’m standing on a fault line waiting for the earthquake to come. “But what about hiring Derick?”
My head spins. His name in my mouth turns from tasting like peppermint to tasting like puke. Realization hits me lighting fast; he had to have known. This must’ve been what David was alluding to, what Derick was about to tell me before we jumped into the pool less than a week ago. But “about to” doesn’t cut it when he probably knew this whole time, this whole summer, since the email.
