Chapter 3 (Continued from the vault)

 

DREAMS

 

By the time Larry went to bed, three loads of wash had been cleaned, dried, ironed (as necessary), folded and put away.  Most of the junk mail was in trash bags and videotapes were stacked neatly in the corner.  “I’ll have to buy another video shelf tomorrow,” he had thought as he dusted off the last two at the top of the pile.

 

Larry removed his glasses, placing them gently on the newly vacant nightstand and realized for the first time that evening that he had not watched a minute of TV all night.  The thought gave him a feeling of comfort.  He closed his eyes and drifted into slumber.

 

He was seventeen.  The movie was okay, he thought.  He was too busy looking over at Marcy’s hand on the armrest.  When they first sat down in the third row, she immediately folded her hands in her lap.  She hadn’t wanted any popcorn or soda.  Though he considered them staples of the movie viewing experience, he decided against them also.  The ride to the theatre was filled with the usual banter about school, teachers, and homework.  He had asked her to the movies a week ago and dreaded it ever since.  He liked Marcy and she seemed to like him, but the word ‘friend’ came up a bit too often in their conversations.  He had held his breath and asked and she had said yes.  So here they were. 

 

Larry had been looking forward to seeing this movie since he first heard about it three months ago and now all he could see were her hands.  First folded on her lap, then relaxed on her legs, and now the one closest to him on the armrest.  “This is ridiculous,” he smiled to himself.  “Just do it.”

 

There was a scene of a horizon on the screen featuring the twin peaks of a mountain that looked mysteriously like the World Trade Towers.  “Foreshadowing,” he whispered to her as he gently tapped her hand and retracted his quickly.  She turned and smiled.  It was more than just a polite smile.  At least that’s what he hoped.  The movie continued.  The great ape wrestled with a giant serpent.  “Foreshadowing,” this time he let his hand linger for a second or two.  It seemed an eternity to Larry as he pulled back.  She smiled again and giggled nervously.  The movie continued.  The bad guy, looking over his prize, the unconscious mass of the giant ape, said something about this being the greatest moment of his life.  He went on about how he’d be world famous.

 

“Foreshadowing.”  This time it was Marcy.  She smiled at him and placed her hand gently on his.  Larry’s heart dropped.  The hand remained.  It was warm, soft, and suprisingly slightly moist (could she be nervous, too?).  His hand tensed and she started to pull away.  Larry turned his hand over and lightly took her hand in his.  She didn’t resist.  He could feel her hand start to relax in his.  He looked over at her and their eyes met.  Smiling, they both sat back and returned to the viewing of the movie, neither releasing the other’s hand.

 

As the credits rolled, Larry turned to Marcy.  “Whatcha think?”

 

“I really enjoyed it.”  The voice was different but oddly familiar.  He looked up.  It was Geri.  He dropped her hand and screamed.

 

The bedroom was dark.  The usual glow of the TV was missing.  It took a few seconds to get his bearings.  As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he reached for the remote control, stopped himself, and pulled the covers over his head.  “Oh my God.”  Sleep returned quicker than he expected.

 

They were dancing, slowly.  He was holding her tightly in his arms.  Her head rested gently on his shoulder.  Her hair smelled like flowers, the aroma made him a bit dizzy.  And they danced.  But there was no music.  He felt a few warm drops on his shoulder.  His hands gently caressed her back.  And they danced.  But they were lying down.  She kissed his chest lightly.  And they danced.  He cupped her chin lightly in his hand and lifted her face to look in her eyes.  The tears seemed to wash out the piercing blue he came to expect.  The redness of her eyes in no way detracted from her naturally beautiful face.  The smile was so familiar, so perfect.  His lips brushed her forehead.  He felt a tear roll down his cheek.  “Larry, I, I . . .” He began to silence her with a kiss.

 

The pillow didn’t respond.  He rolled over in his bed.  It had been years since he had thought about that evening.  It seemed a lifetime ago.  It was her seventeenth birthday and he had made her dinner.  Nothing spectacular.  Lasagna, salad, and a bottle of wine.  It would be regarded as his specialty in years to come. He remembered that she had seemed almost as impressed by his clean apartment as she was that he had cooked.  Just a quiet evening.  And it had ended in a way he never would have anticipated.

 

Almost five years had passed since Marcy had left him for an old boyfriend.  He never allowed himself more than a few weeks without a new girlfriend after that.  In retrospect he had realized that he was just compensating for the loss.  With a woman at his side, he wouldn’t think about her.  Wishful thinking.  Not a day would pass that her name didn’t pass over his lips.  In the darkness of so many bedrooms it was her face he was kissing, her body he caressed.  And then Janet came into his life.  A few days after their first date, a movie (what else), he was talking to an old high school friend who mentioned Marcy.  When it took him a few minutes just to picture her, he thought he might actually be moving on.  All he could conjure up was the image of Janet.  It was years before Larry could look back and see that Janet was Marcy.  A bit thinner, a tad shorter, but Marcy none the less.  He rubbed his eyes and felt the tear that still lingered on his cheek.  He drifted off again.

 

He heard crying.  He looked over his shoulder and there stood his mother, crying.  His father stood proudly with his arm around her.  He noticed that Dad’s eyes were moist, but he had such a presence in his freshly pressed tuxedo.  Tuxedo?  Larry looked down and saw that he, too, was dressed formally.  There was a canopy over his head and a rabbi in front of him.  This wasn’t familiar at all.  Organ music swelled and all eyes turned to the back of the auditorium.  Larry looked around the room and saw the faces of friends he hadn’t seen in years.  His sister held a baby in her arms.  The music continued to play.  Nothing.  A buzz of murmuring voices filled the room.

 

“Where is she?”  Lori tugged at his sleeve.  What a great friend Lori was.  Not only had she agreed to be his best man (?) but she even agreed to wear a tuxedo.  “I don’t think she’s coming.”  They were words he didn’t want to hear, but knew to be true.

 

“She’ll be here,” Larry looked to his parents.  They greeted him with a warm compassion.  Their eyes showed that they shared his pain.

 

“I don’t think so,” Lori sounded sure of herself.  Larry turned to her.  There stood Geri in the tuxedo.  “Time to move on.”  Her words repeated in his mind as he returned to his bed.

 

“This is what I get for not watching TV,” he reached for the remote control, but again fought the urge.  He rolled around in the bed for a few minutes, but couldn’t seem to get comfortable.  He got out of bed and stepped over a pile of clothes that was no longer there.  Larry headed to the kitchen following a more direct path then he had been able to in over four months.  He reached into the refrigerator for a soda but took a small bottle of orange juice instead.  Shaking the bottle, he sat down in his chair and faced the blank TV screen.  He couldn’t get the wedding scene out of his mind.  “Lori was right,” he thought, “Joanna probably wouldn’t have shown.”

 

“Ah, Joanna,” he spoke the name quietly, almost with respect.  He took a sip of juice.  “How could I have been so naïve?”  Larry was wide-awake now.  He picked up the remote control and turned on the TV.  Larry flipped from one channel to another trying to find something other than infomercials.  He finally hit on a movie’s opening credits.  He took another sip of juice, sat back, and let the story unravel in front of him.

 

As the credits ended, there was an indistinct shadowy form filling the screen.  The camera pulled back to reveal two people kissing.  They were sitting on a couch in each other’s arms.  The man whispered something to the woman and rose.  She took his hand and they walked off camera.  The next scene was that of a bedroom.  As the girl sat on the bed, the man turned off the lights.  The couple was lit in the eerie glow that only appears when lights are extinguished in a movie.  The embrace continued on the bed.

 

The story unfolded to show a relationship in its early stages of growth.  The couple became inseparable.  “She looks awfully familiar,” Larry thought to himself but couldn’t place the actress.  He found her very attractive though he had never been attracted to blondes.  It was her eyes.  They grabbed him.

 

Passion turned to love and the couple became engaged.  It was quit a humorous film, yet touching.  Larry was engrossed.  A wedding was planned, despite the constant arguing between the woman and her mother.  Finally, the day arrived.  The man paced nervously in his room as he dressed.  Larry thought it odd that they never showed the bride’s preparation.  The altar scene.  The groom’s mother and father cried.  The groom fidgeted.  The organ music swelled and the crowd rose.  All eyes were on the back of the room.  Nothing.  Close up of the groom looking nervous.  Cut to the back of the room.  Nothing.  Close ups of the guests looking to each other in confusion.  Wide shot of the entire room.  A bridesmaid ran down the aisle, out of the room.  Nothing.  A shuffling sound came from outside the room.  The camera zoomed to the end of the aisle.  The music swelled again.  A figure moved into view.  The bride, in white, appeared.  There was a slight sigh of relief that permeated the room.  The camera followed the bride as she walked down the aisle.  As she reached the groom, the camera zoomed onto her veiled face.  The groom’s hands reached into frame to lift the veil.  As he did, Larry saw a different face then earlier.  It was Geri.

 

Larry jerked up in his seat, spilling orange juice on his chest.  The room was dark; the TV off.  From his bedroom, Larry could hear the sound of his alarm.