His Collection

THREE

Locking the truck, we both walk arm in arm down the small gravel road leading to the cinema. Sure, it was old, a bit busted, but the town here had managed to keep it running all these years, and it had a great handful of classics that no one seemed to ever tire from. True, we could always watch the  latest movies from our computers, but that kills that whole vibe of actually being out, and enjoying the crisp air.

"I want to see, um," I humm out, thinking as the stars begin to twinkle past the clouds.

"A Street Car Named Desire?" Kyle surprisingly suggested my favorite. The wind blew my loose, brown hair over my face, then smacked the rest across Kyle's cheek. He then changed his mind, "Mmm, maybe not, I don't want something scary. I feel like an old Goofy cartoon night, don't you?"

"What, A Street Car Named Desire is not scary," I reply with a raised brow as he held his nose in the air.

"Sorry, but to me the psychological, mental films are creepier than those demonic movies."

"You dragged me out here, so we're watching it!"

"Oh, no. Did you just raise your voice at me, babe?" He quickly spread his arms around me, and lifted me high up. Laughing, I tried to tug on his pants, trying to find his boxers so I could give him the wedgie of his life. Never had I been afraid to touch Kyle, not even his butt.

"Whoa, there, kinky!" He skrieked out as my hand squeezed his buttcheek the second I pulled a handful of the boxers up.

He kept me over his shoulders, and continued walking towards the movies. The lights were coming on, and as I raised my head to see the town dazzle like a small patch of sky, I saw a man roll on the ground as if a bull had flung him across the air. He was a couple 20 feet away, but I had heard him telling them to stop, turning to his left where two others appeared, and started kicking him.

I had started patting Kyle's back like a drum, quickly alerting him. "Kyle, Kyle, someone is hurt! He is getting beat up! Put me down!" Kyle, not knowing what I was talking about, quickly let me go. I fell and took off running towards the men.

"This isn't your business," that's what I could hear the part of my mother in me warn, but I wasn't her, 100% sure. I was going to help anyone in need, and me being a girl didn't mean jack.

"You're lucky...my gun isn't on me...devil boy!" One man said, as he kicked even harder with each pause.

I ran as fast as I could, then yelled out for them to stop before I called the sheriff. One turned around being ready to swing at me, but Kyle appeared just in time to tackle him to the ground.

"Hey, get off me!" The man yelled, then I saw the other jerk stop kicking the guy on the ground, and face his attention to his now pinned buddy.

Kyle was an athlete, and quite a strong one, so I was certain the man he had on a chokehold was going to pass out pretty soon if they didn't leave.

The man half dizzy began saying," Kay-kay! Wah-we-we'll go! We'll go!" Kyle let him go, and both ran off swearing at us, and how they'll get even.

I had already my hands over the injured guy, trying to lift him up, and Kyle was breathing heavily trying to calm down from the scene that had just gone down.

"How are you?" I asked my out-of-breath friend, and he nodded back saying how I had more of a spirit than he did when it came to helping others. It was true, not to brag, but I did help others far more than he did. He'd do the right thing, but mostly because he knew it was the right thing, depending on what it was, he could be either bland, or full of passion about it.

"Well, I'm not as strong as you, so help me," I exhale while I pull up the guy. Before Kyle could reach over, the guy lifts himself up, and pulls down his hood. For a moment I coudn't see his face; the street lamps weren't that bright to light up the roads, but I could see he had something all over his face. Dirt, maybe? He quickly dusted off his jacket, picked up his cap that had been scattered under the dirt, then quickly removing his hood, and putting on his cap to provide us with almost no view of his face.

"Are you all right? Do you want us to call the cops?" Kyle asked, not making eye contact as he also dusted off the mess from his sweater.

"No, no. It's fine. Thank you, both. I didn't think anyone would be around, let alone, bother to help me." He spoke calmly, and swallowed down before looking away. "Thanks, though, honestly. There's rarely any good people left."

Both Kyle, and I shared a quick look; we were interested in how this young man, barely in his twenties had gotten himself in this predictament. I asked why he was getting his ass kicked -in a polite way, of course.

"They were just some old friends from my high school days," he replied.

"Friends don't hurt friends like that," Kyle pointed out.

"Those jerks. How dare they even try ganging up on someone, especially to threaten you with a gun!" I shivered in annoyance as I crossed my arms. "How I would ring their necks, then scold them like tiny children since I bet their mentalities had stopped developing at seven."

"Calm down, there, I feel I should be afraid of you now," the stranger chuckled with a smirk. Kyle laughed along while placing his arm around me, then he faced the man, and asked for his name.

He grinned and extended his hand. "Lance Flint, nice to meet you." We both shook it each, then introduced ourselves. Both Kyle, and I were surprised at his accent, it wasn't the Montana accent everyone seemed to carry around in their mouth, even I had it sometimes, though, because I had spent more time with my father, I spoke like an outsider. Kyle's excuse was that his family wasn't even from here, they were from Oregon.

"Where are you from? You sound like a, uh." I didn't want to come off as rude.

"An outsider? Yeah, I know. You could say I am from out of town." Lance rubbed his head, still sticking to shadowing his face. With a flashy grin, he gave a small wave. "I should be heading home. My body isn't so banged up. Bye, and thanks again."

So fast?

He turned to leave, and I wanted to ask him if he needed a ride or anything, but he walked to an old truck, and got in.  We waved back, and went back on our way to the cinema.

"You thought he was weird," Kyle says, stating it.

"A little, he clearly didn't want to show his face, and left pretty fast," I twisted my lips."Not everyone is a people person, though, so who knows."

..........................

The clip above is a small scene from one of my personal favorite black and white films, A Streetcar Named Desire. It gets pretty dark, not in the sense of something bloody, or gruesome, but in how a shattered mind is still able to function, and hide itself under what people deem as normal...till one day the broken pieces are displayed out for all to see.