The social media storm rages on in my pocket. Vibrate. Chime. Repeat. We may have lost at council, but the internet is still abuzz with our cause. They’re calling for other drive-ins to be preserved, for new ones to open. It’s gratifying, for sure. If nothing else, at least we’ll leave behind that legacy.
I turn off my notifications for tonight. I want to stay in the moment.
“In eighty-six years of service, I think this is the biggest event we’ve ever thrown,” Earl says, stepping out from behind his desk. Mateo, Avery, and I all turn to see him wearing a weathered smile and one of our buttons. “It’s almost time to give the big welcome speech. You on the mic, or am I?”
“Let the podcast star give it a whirl,” Avery says, shoving me toward the table where the mixer sits. I’m still not used to the fresh attention I’ve garnered since the podcast episode blew up. Sure, I’m not a sex symbol like Derick (and, yes, Irefuseto call him the White Knight of Tight Shirts, even though he has jokingly asked during more than one make-out session). But even Oscar was pleasantly shocked by the number of offers I received for features, sponsors, inquiries about starting my own podcast. His publisher even made a passing mention of being interested in Alice’s story, should she ever want to share it in book form. With. Me. Attached.
It’s flattering, even if they’re all more interested in Alice than my expertise. I understand though, and I welcome it even more. That’s the job of a researcher. To unearth the narrative and present it in a compelling way without inserting your own bias into the synthesis. If I wanted the spotlight, I’d have gone into filmmaking forthright.
On Earl’s cue, I press the red button. “Welcome, everyone, to Wiley’s Drive-In. Tonight, we present the premiere that never was. Willow Valley history gets made. A second-chance story gets unearthed thanks to director Alice Kelly.” I picture her sitting in my mom’s SUV in the center of the lot, one of my old baseball caps on her head. The tinted window will protect her, but I have a sneaking suspicion she’s going to want the attention after she hears the rapturous response as soon asTHE ENDblinks up on the screen.
“We’d like to say thank you to all who shared their thoughts and support for our #TheLittleDriveInThatCould campaign. This may be our last season, but we’re going out with a bang. Sit back, relax, and the feature will begin shortly.”
The crowd’s enthusiasm cuts through the walls. The rabid film geeks were gearing up, messaging me encouragements all week and asking for Easter eggs and sneak peeks about what to expect. My fingers couldn’t reply fast enough.
A countdown clock appears on the bottom right of the screen as the trailers and advertisements begin to play.
“Nice work, kid,” Earl says, nostalgia glossing over his expression. I’m not the pimply fifteen-year-old he insisted on hiring anymore. I’m the less-pimply twenty-two-year-old he can count on, who tried to save his family business. He’s taking note of it all, finally, and it’s bringing tears to his eyes.
“There’s no crying in drive-ins,” I joke.
“You’re thinking of baseball.” He produces a hanky from his pocket and dabs the corners of his eyes. “Sorry we couldn’t pull a Hail Mary this time.”
“Maybe this is how it’s meant to end.” I’ve made peace withmaybeandalmost. Uncertainty isn’t so scary when you’ve got the promise of possibility stretched out ahead of you. I’ll save my mourning for tomorrow.
A text pings in from Derick:
You’ve got a voice for radio,
but you’ve also got a face for movies.
Is that what they call a double threat?
I blush so hard that Mateo and Avery start mockingly fanning me. I swat them away as I type back.
I’ll meet you at the photo booth in five.
“Everything all set?” I ask Avery, who’s got my dad’s pickup truck keys with his Harley Davidson commemorative key chain dangling from her ring finger. I enlisted her and Mateo to pull off my dream grand gesture.
“Fluffed, arranged, and executed to perfection. NTB or anything.”Not to brag.
“And the purple blanket from my room?” I ask Mateo.
“Claire saw me carrying it across the lot when I arrived, and she nearly fought me for it. Said she’s been looking for it for months.” He shoots me a look. “I had to explain that we needed it for a good cause.”
This premiere isn’t the only way I intend to turn back the clock tonight.
I smile and laugh. Even in the face of permanent closure, I can’t help but feel full of gratitude. Wherever I end up beyond the gates of Wiley’s, I’ll always have the memories and this fantastic support system.
I wrap my arms around my friends and yank them in close. “I love you both so much. And I know we won’t be living together much longer, but please promise me that the 3Bee Gees won’t break up.”
“Babe,” Mateo laughs into my ear. “The 3Bee Gees will never die because we’re…‘stayin’ alive, stayin’ alive, ha, ha, ha.’” His falsetto sets us into raucous motion. The three of us end up disco dancing along to his vocals, doing our best John Travolta impressions with goofy grins pressed on our faces.
Youssef appears by the projector. “Do I even want to know?” he asks of the scene we’re making. We laugh and then rush out the door.
Avery and Mateo head down front to find Brandon and Stacia.
“Good luck!” Avery calls over her shoulder as they disappear into the fray.
