Flickers

A Movie to Remember

I’ve had a bad day. Not just a bad day, but a really, truly horrible day. And I’m not saying this because I want pity; I’m saying it because it’s true. It was so awful that I am now roaming the freezer section of my local supermarket looking for the biggest tub of Cookies and Cream ice cream that I can find. Ice cream in hand, I decide to stop by the local video store to rent out my favorite movie, something to cheer me up.

The ice cream is dragging my arm down and showing the world how pathetically small my arm muscles are, so I decide to leave it in my beat up hunk of metal whilst I rent out the movie. I flex my hand a few times as I walk into the store and smile briefly at Greg, the cashier boy who knows that I come in every Friday night to rent out the same movie. Except today isn’t Friday, it’s Wednesday, so he knows something is up. He waves me over with his hand so I know there’s no escaping his questions, at least not tonight.

“Hey Greg,” I try to chirp, but my voice is strained and groggy. Greg rolls his eyes and leans forward.

“Don’t ‘hey Greg’ me. What are you doing here child?” My favorite thing about Greg is his over the top hand gestures and flamboyant nature, a clear indicator that he is gay and proud.

I shrug and look away, trying to act natural. Of course I probably looked like a used Kleenex. And not the nice folded kind, but the snotty, crumpled kind.

“Oh honey,” Greg sighs, walking around the counter to give me a hug. His muscular arms engulf me in a warm hug and if he weren’t gay, I would definitely be fan girling right now. I deflate into his arms, knowing the video store was always empty so no one else would see our hug. I pull away and force a small smile across my lips, glancing up at Greg’s concerned eyes.

“Who’s ass do I have to whoop to make my girl smile again?” He demands, puffing his chest out and making me giggle. Greg smiles in victory and returns to his perch by the till as I make a beeline for the back of the store where I know my movie is. There’s only one copy here, so I always worry that someone else will take it, but it remains there every Friday night without fail. ’10 Things I hate about you’ perches on the shelf, a thin layer of dust gathering over its cover. I skim my fingers through the dust and let a small smile fill my lips as the memories float back to me. Tears prick my eyes and I shake my head, grabbing the movie and heading back to the cash register.

Greg sighs dramatically as he scans the movie, his eyes searching mine as I hand over the correct amount. He’s never asked me why I was so attached to this movie and for that I am grateful. I send him one last smile before exiting the store and heading to my car.

The door creaks as I swing it open and the seat groans under my weight. I scoff and slam the door shut, watching the dust swirl effortlessly through the air before I start the engine, which grunts and splutters before it coughs to life. I don’t even have to think as I drive, because the route is etched into my mind. Within 20 minutes I had arrived, Bettle Park Old Peoples Home.

I grab the movie before walking towards the front door, the crunch of gravel familiar to my ears. The glass door slides open instantly and I walk in, smiling to my right at the receptionist who always seems to be working. She doesn’t have to tell me where to go, because I’ve been so many times that I know this building like the back of my hand. I head to room 471, the room that holds so many questions. I always cross my fingers before going in, hoping something has changed…anything.