Page 117 of I Am the Messenger

"The Lord been with you?"

"Not really," I answer. I think of last night and the idea of my mother committing adultery, hating my father for broken promises, and despising her only child who remains in town.

"Ah," he affirms. "Everything has its purpose."

I can only agree with that. Nothing has happened without reason, and I focus on the next message.

There's only Bell Street now, and I go there in the afternoon. Number 39 is an old, jaded cinema that you walk down into. There's an old terrace house above it, where a board sits glued to the awning. Today, the lettering says Casablanca 2:30 p.m. and Some Like It Hot 7 p.m. As you walk down, there are posters of old movies displayed in the window. The paper is yellow on the edges, and when I walk in, there are more inside.

The smell is of stale popcorn. It seems empty.

"Hello?" I call.

Nothing.

This place must have died years ago when the new Greater Union was put up across town. It's deserted.

"Hello?" I call again, louder this time.

I look into a back room and see an old man sleeping. He wears a suit and bow tie, like an old-style usher.

"You all right, mate?" I ask, and he jolts awake.

"Oh!" He leaps from his chair and straightens up his jacket. "What can I do for you?"

I look at the board above the counter and say, "Can I get a ticket to Casablanca, please?"

"God, you're my first customer in weeks!"

The lines around the man's eyes are enormous, and he has tremendously bushy eyebrows. His white hair is combed to perfection, and although he's balding, he doesn't execute a comb-over. His expression is genuine. The man's delighted. Quite frankly, he's chuffed to bits.

I hand him ten dollars and he gives me five change.

"Popcorn?"

"Yes, please."

He thrills himself as he scoops it up and puts it in the box. "On the house," he says, and winks at me.

"Cheers."

The cinema itself is small, but the screen is massive. I have to wait awhile, but the old man comes in at about 2:25. "I don't think anyone else is coming. Would you mind if we started early?" He's probably scared I'll piss off on him if I have to wait too long.

"No worries."

He rushes back up the aisle.

I'm sitting almost exactly in the middle of the theater. If anything, I'm a row closer than further back.

The movie begins.

Black and white.

A while through it, it cuts out and I look back up to where the projection window is. He's forgotten to change the reel. I call up.

"Hey!"

Nothing.