Page 13
Story: Survive the Night
“Doesn’t that worry you a little bit?”
“It worries me a lot,” Charlie says, not daring to say anything more.
The movies in her mind never used to worry her. If anything, she was thankful for them. They made things easier. A balm that soothed the sting of prickly emotions. Besides, they never lasted very long, and they certainly never hurt anyone.
Until one of them did.
Now she’ll never forgive herself.
Now she just wants them to go away.
“What kind of movies are we talking about?” Josh says.
“Anything, really. I’ve seen musicals and dramas and scary movies.”
“And what about a minute ago? What kind of movie was going through your head then?”
Charlie rewinds her mind to that image of her in the side mirror. Wearing Maddy’s red coat and matching lipstick that’s definitely not there in real life, Charlie looked dramatic. But she was no femme fatale. That was always Maddy’s role.
And Josh was the handsome but wary man behind the wheel, possibly with a past. The two of them could have been anyone. Lovers on the lam. Siblings only recently reunited. Strangers in the dark who, for reasons unknown even to them, had set out across the country without a plan.
Which, in a way, is the truth.
“Film noir,” Charlie says. “Not a classic, though. Something the studios churned out on a weekly basis. A solid B movie.”
“That,” Josh says, “is oddly specific.”
Charlie responds with an embarrassed shrug. “I can’t help it. It’s how I’m wired.”
“What if this, right here and right now, were a movie?” Josh says. “Who would play me?”
“You mean, what actor?”
“Yeah.”
“Living or dead?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
Charlie leans back and raises her hands, fingers straight and thumbs extended, like a director framing a shot. She takes a moment to study Josh. Not just his face, which is undeniably handsome, but also his physical features. He’s formidable. A heavy, slightly hulking presence that, combined with his good looks, brings to mind only one person.
“Marlon Brando,” she says.
Josh cringes. “Ouch.”
“YoungMarlon Brando,” Charlie’s quick to add. “StreetcarBrando. You know, back when he was hot.”
“Oh, so you think I’m hot?” Josh says, puffing out his chest a little bit, pleased.
Charlie blushes. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Too late,” Josh says. “Now that you’ve said it, you can’t take it back. I like being that Brando. He’s kind of fat and crazy now, though, right?”
“Something for you to look forward to.”
“Very funny,” Josh says. “And here I was about to be nice and say whoIthink should play you in this imaginary movie of yours.”
“Who?”
“It worries me a lot,” Charlie says, not daring to say anything more.
The movies in her mind never used to worry her. If anything, she was thankful for them. They made things easier. A balm that soothed the sting of prickly emotions. Besides, they never lasted very long, and they certainly never hurt anyone.
Until one of them did.
Now she’ll never forgive herself.
Now she just wants them to go away.
“What kind of movies are we talking about?” Josh says.
“Anything, really. I’ve seen musicals and dramas and scary movies.”
“And what about a minute ago? What kind of movie was going through your head then?”
Charlie rewinds her mind to that image of her in the side mirror. Wearing Maddy’s red coat and matching lipstick that’s definitely not there in real life, Charlie looked dramatic. But she was no femme fatale. That was always Maddy’s role.
And Josh was the handsome but wary man behind the wheel, possibly with a past. The two of them could have been anyone. Lovers on the lam. Siblings only recently reunited. Strangers in the dark who, for reasons unknown even to them, had set out across the country without a plan.
Which, in a way, is the truth.
“Film noir,” Charlie says. “Not a classic, though. Something the studios churned out on a weekly basis. A solid B movie.”
“That,” Josh says, “is oddly specific.”
Charlie responds with an embarrassed shrug. “I can’t help it. It’s how I’m wired.”
“What if this, right here and right now, were a movie?” Josh says. “Who would play me?”
“You mean, what actor?”
“Yeah.”
“Living or dead?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
Charlie leans back and raises her hands, fingers straight and thumbs extended, like a director framing a shot. She takes a moment to study Josh. Not just his face, which is undeniably handsome, but also his physical features. He’s formidable. A heavy, slightly hulking presence that, combined with his good looks, brings to mind only one person.
“Marlon Brando,” she says.
Josh cringes. “Ouch.”
“YoungMarlon Brando,” Charlie’s quick to add. “StreetcarBrando. You know, back when he was hot.”
“Oh, so you think I’m hot?” Josh says, puffing out his chest a little bit, pleased.
Charlie blushes. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Too late,” Josh says. “Now that you’ve said it, you can’t take it back. I like being that Brando. He’s kind of fat and crazy now, though, right?”
“Something for you to look forward to.”
“Very funny,” Josh says. “And here I was about to be nice and say whoIthink should play you in this imaginary movie of yours.”
“Who?”
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