The Movie House

“Where are we going?” James asks vehemently, the warm air escaping his lips in a wispy vapor into the cold morning air.

“Darling, we are going to The Red Velvet”

“The Red Velvet?  What is The Red Velvet?”

“What is the Red Velvet?” asks Henry, “why it was only the THE place to be back in the day.”

Molly turns to him with a stern look, then turns her attention back to her beloved husband of 62 years, gathers his scarf back around his neck and puts her hand in the crook of his elbow, guiding him down the street, “We are almost there, it is on the next block.”

“I’m freezing, why are we walking in the cold?”

“The cold air won’t hurt you, in fact it’s good, helps to clear out the cobwebs.”

Henry grumbles, “Yeah, well some of us don’t have cobwebs.” 

Again, Molly casts a warning glance in his direction, but he continues to talk under his breath, “What I do for my two best friends.”

At the corner, Henry turns to the right toward the ally, while Molly and James continue their stroll down the street. 

She spies the old sign ahead, hanging a bit crooked from the front of the building, the lights long burned out and real cobwebs taking up resident in the corners.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” she squeezes James’ hand.

“It looks like an old sign on a worn down building to me.  Why have you brought me to an old run down theater in the middle of a cold, winter morning?”

“You’ll see, let’s see if the doors are open.”

As they approached the entrance, Henry greets them at the door, “Welcome back to The Red Velvet, Mr. and Mrs. Campbell.  Let me escort you backstage, the show is about ready to start.”

As James enters the lobby, something seems familiar, but he can’t place it.  The musty smell, the faded carpet.  He follows his dearest friends with a confused expression upon his face. 

As they approached the stage, the theater gradually transforms.  The lights in the house are brought down, the stage lights brought up.  The musty smell seems to evaporate into an excitement and electricity in the air.  The curtains part, the music begins and he sees the most beautiful woman he has ever seen waiting for him on the stage.  Behind her is an old film on the screen with a very young couple dancing to the music.

“I I remember this song.  We used to dance to this song.”  He tentatively approaches her and takes her hand in his, his other hand sliding behind her back.  They begin to dance, the memories so strong that his body moves without him having to think about what to do.  Molly follows his lead, leans in and whispers, “I knew I would find you here.”  James turns his face toward her, their lips brush, “I’ll always save this dance for you.”

Off stage, Henry watches in amazement as he sees the two images of his oldest friends – the original on the screen, young, vibrant, very much in love.  The older on the stage, transformed back into the performer he once was.  A bit slower, a bit more careful, but the essence of the dancer, the leading man and his lady dancing across the dusty stage with no crowds, no applause, just each other. 

Molly was right.  Henry’s old theater would be the trigger that would bring James back to them.  Watching his two best friends, tears began falling down his face.  He knew that the memories for one were in snippets and the other had to graciously find ways to bring him back to her.  He stood there and imagined for just a few minutes that the dance did not have to end, the applause did not have to come and the curtains would never close again.  But he knew that their past was only within each step and each measure of music in their memories and in their minds.  The dance would end and they would have to step back out to the cold air that was their present.