Dave said it was cosplay, but I said it wasn’t nearly that nerdy. Every now and then we would do faithful reenactments of scenes from The Movie to show our profound respect for George Pal’s masterpiece. Or at least, my respect, since I made all the arrangements.
“Humor him, will you, Dave? It won’t kill you,” Onion said more than once about our reenactments. Dave thought they were stupid, as you might imagine, but he went along only because Onion and I insisted. To be honest, I don’t think Onion liked the reenactments any more than Dave did, but at least she was a good sport about it rather than a pitiful whiner like Dave.
I decided the next scene we were going to recreate was the one where George the time traveler goes forward in time to the year 1918. He breaks out of his abandoned, boarded-up house, sees who he thinks is his good friend Filby across the street, and then discovers that it’s Filby’s son, now a young man and the spitting image of his father.
Filby, George finds out to his great distress, is dead, killed at the front in World War One.
It’s a great scene, one that always choked me up a bit.
Naturally, we had to improvise a little when it came to finding a location for our reenactments of The Movie. For this scene, we had to improvise a lot.
We were doing the reenactment on a Sunday morning. The stores downtown were closed then and, after scouting for a good location the week before, I had found a shop that vaguely resembled the one the young Filby is about to enter when approached by George, with exactly five steps like in The Movie. Across the street was an alley that would have to do for George’s boarded-up property. It was hardly ideal, but the minute I saw the location I knew we could make it work.
We dressed for our parts, of course, although that could be difficult depending on the scene. I had found an old dark plaid suit in the Goodwill store that was kind of like the one that George the time traveler wears at the beginning of The Movie. It was a little too big for me, but good enough. I was able to wear it for several scenes we reenacted since that is what George wears throughout The Movie, although it is in tatters by movie’s end. For this scene, Dave should have been wearing a British WWI uniform, but obviously not having one of those, Dave just wore his brown leather bomber jacket and a plain green baseball cap. That looked sufficiently military, even though it looked to be from the wrong world war.
Onion was going to be the driver of the car that almost hits the time traveler as he crosses the street after getting the bad news about Filby. For that, she had her mother’s car and claimed she had an old-fashioned dress that was close enough to pass for 1918. Of the three of us, Onion’s wardrobe was the most extensive. I think she liked dressing up for the reenactments much more than the reenactments themselves.
So Dave picked me up real early Sunday morning looking like he slept in his clothes, which he probably did. We headed downtown.
“You owe me big time for this,” he said. His sigh afterward turned into a loud yawn.
“Oh, come on,” I said. “It’ll be great fun.”
“Barely. Maybe for you.”
“Do you have your lines memorized?”
“Yes, yes.” He seemed to bristle with resentment. “You’ll see,” he added a few seconds later, then gave me a smug look that made me wonder what he had planned.
Onion arrived just moments after we did. She got out of her car and posed to show us how she was attired. Wearing a long, flowing ankle-length dress with a high collar and wide-brimmed sun bonnet, she looked perfect for the part.
I looked at Dave, who stood there disinterested.
“And to think she has a small role today. Why can’t you get that involved?”
“Well, really, I just like the dressing-up part,” Onion confessed, as I suspected. “These reenactments . . .” she rolled her eyes and let the rest go unsaid.
Dave turned slowly to face me.
“Let’s just get this over with, okay?”
“Fine. Get in your car. When you hear me break though the fence, that’s your cue to slowly drive up to the shop, get out and walk up the steps. Onion, you wait in your car behind Dave. When I walk back across the street, you know what to do. All right, places, everyone!”
I rubbed my hands together; instead of Onion, it was Dave whose eyes rolled this time.
I hurried to the alley. Obviously, I wasn’t going to break through a fence, but I had seen a tall wooden pallet that I could use as a stand-in for a fence. All I would have to do was kick out a couple of slats and crawl through.
The pallet was right where I saw it yesterday, next to an overstuffed dumpster. I turned it to face the street.
“Ready, and action!”
I kicked at the slats. Nothing happened. I kicked harder.
“Hold on, we’re having some technical difficulties here.”
I kicked as hard as I could; my foot slipped between two slats and got stuck. Worse, the pallet had slid forward from my kicks and now leaned toward me. It took all my strength to keep from falling backward under its weight.
“Uh, some help over here? Right away, please?”
I could see Dave sigh again. He got out of his car and lumbered across the street. I could be wrong, but it sure seemed to me he was taking his sweet time as I struggled mightily to stay upright.
Dave nonchalantly reached out with one hand and stood the skid up straight.
“Hold perfectly still.”
With just two well-placed kicks from behind me, he loosened the slats on either side of my stuck foot. I pulled it free.
“There you go. Not that you deserve it.”
He immediately turned and lumbered back across the street and into his car, not even waiting for me to thank him.
A bit rattled, I swallowed hard. I’m sure some of what I swallowed was my pride.
But the show, as they say, must go on.
“Okay, now. From the top. Ready, set, action!”
I had no trouble kicking the slats off this time, sending them scattering. I crawled through the pallet frame and headed across the street.
Dave slowly drove up to the curb. I stared at his car as if I had never seen one before, just like George the time traveler does. Dave parked, got out and took four steps up to the closed shop.
“Filby!” I called brightly. “Well, what are you doing, going to a masquerade party?”
Dave turned around to look at me and came back down the steps. I cackled exactly six times, the last time on a high note just like in The Movie.
“You look rather silly without your mustache, old man.”
Dave gave a big sigh, which was not in The Movie.
“Were you addressing me, mister?”
“It’s ‘sir,’ not ‘mister,’” I corrected him quietly. “Filby, it’s George. Well, I must say I expected a little more enthusiastic a greeting.”
Dave raised a finger into the air, much higher than necessary. “I think you’re confusing me with my father, sir. Yes. There was quite a resemblance. I’m James Filby.”
So far, so good; Dave’s timing and inflection were spot on.
“Was?”
“Were you a friend of Father’s?”
Even though he had delivered the line perfectly, he fluttered his eyelids and cocked his head in a much too obvious parody.
It was a struggle to remain in character. “Yes! Yes, I’ve been away.”
“He was killed in the war. A year ago.”
Dave briefly crossed his eyes and stuck his tongue out of the corner of his mouth, which finally made me scowl.
“Oh. Oh, I’m so sorry. What about the gentleman across the street?”
“Oh! Oh, him, the inventor fellow.” Dave gave a little hop—again, not in The Movie. “He disappeared around the turn of the century.”
“‘Chap.’ Not ‘fellow,’” I said softly, now more than a little irritated.
Dave wagged a finger at me, much more vigorously than the scene called for. “Look here, if you’re interested in that house, sir, I’m afraid you can’t buy it. Can’t even get inside.”
Unlike other times when Dave had flubbed his lines and I had to help him along, this time he nearly had them down cold. It was the embellishments that were driving me mad. I would have insisted that we start over again but knew the outcome would probably be the same.
“Why is that?” I asked, hoping Dave would stay on script.
“Well, my father was executor of the inventor’s estate, and Father just refused to liquidate it. I often chided him on that account, but he felt positive the owner would return someday. People hereabouts think it’s haunted, but ha ha. . . who are you, sir?”
Dave put an index finger under his chin and curtsied, which made Onion laugh as she waited in the car. That didn’t help my darkening mood.
”Just a stranger who once knew your father,” I replied.
“Have you been at the front?”
“Front? What front?”
“Why, the war of course.”
“What war?”
“Good heavens!” He slapped his forehead and staggered a bit, again not in the script. “You mean you don’t know we’ve been at war with Germany since 1914? I thought you just returned from France perhaps, or perhaps . . . perhaps a cup of coffee might make you feel better, sir.” He mimicked sipping from a cup with his pinky finger extended. Onion laughed even louder.
“’Tea.’ Not ‘coffee,’” I said through clenched teeth. I was beginning to wonder if Dave was further messing with me by selectively substituting words, knowing I would feel compelled to correct him.
“Won’t you come in?” He gestured grandly toward the door.
“No. No, thank you.” I spoke the line a littler edgier than in The Movie.
“Are you sure you’re all right, sir?” He clasped his face.
“Yes, I’m quite all right.” I glowered at him.
“Then goodbye, sir.”
Dave curtsied again, turned stiffly, and started back up the steps.
“Goodbye, Jamie.”
Dave turned around with a totally shocked expression instead of the mildly puzzled look the scene called for.
I turned and strode away, glad it was over if Dave was going to spoil it with his maddening theatrics.
As soon as I stepped into the street, that was Onion’s cue to step on the gas. She drove slowly toward me and beeped her horn. I raised my arms slightly and let them fall in kind of a daze, as if still contemplating my dear friend Filby’s untimely demise just as the time traveler does. But instead of walking slowly so she could safely swerve in front of me, I went too fast, still fuming at Dave for ruining the scene with his silly faces.
Onion laid on the horn to get my attention, but it was too late. A horrible screech went up from the tires as she slammed on the brakes.
The grille of the Volvo bumped me just below the waist, hard enough to send me sprawling.
“Oh no oh no oh no,” I heard Onion repeat, followed by the sound of a car door slamming and quick footsteps.
I pushed myself up off the pavement and stood up. My right hip hurt, but I was able to walk and knew right away it wasn’t serious. All I was probably going to have was a good-sized bruise.
“Please tell me you’re all right.”
Onion’s face was pale. I had never seen her look so frightened.
“Yeah, I’ll be fine. That was my—”
“Hey!”
The voice boomed from down the sidewalk, where a man stood holding a set of keys. He hurried toward us.
“What are you doing by my shop?”
I hurried to the sidewalk to explain if I could, Onion by my side. Dave came down the steps and joined us. The man came up to me and looked us up and down.
“What’s going on? Why are the three of you dressed like that? Say, you hit him with your car!” He stared at Onion. “I should call the police for that.”
The very last thing I needed was to see the police again so I hastened to put him at ease, putting on my friendliest face despite my sore hip.
“No, I’m fine, just fine. This is all part of an act,” I said lightly. “We’re actors recreating a scene from a movie, that’s all.”
“A movie?” The man looked around. “I don’t see any cameras. What are you talking about?”
“It’s . . . street theater,” I said. “We’re an acting troupe. This location was ideal for the scene we reenacted today. We’re done now and will be leaving soon.”
Just as the man’s face brightened as if he understood, Dave spoke up. Unfortunately.
“Look, we’re really sorry. This whole thing is just retarded. We won’t be back, I promise.”
I stiffened at Dave’s words and slowly turned around to face him. The anger I felt over him mocking the scene from The Movie was nothing compared to how I felt now.
Dave actually took a step back when he saw my face.
“Oh, David,” Onion said.
“Well, no harm done, then,” the man said, clearly unaware of how things had just changed. “I thought you were breaking into my shop or something.” He laughed a little. “Well, you crazy kids take care now. I’ve got a business to run. And watch out for cars the next time you cross the street, will you? That looked painful, even if it was an act.” He laughed again.
And with that, he went up the steps, unlocked the door, and went inside.
I took a step toward Dave. He backed still further away.
“Hey, I didn’t really mean it. I was just trying to stop him from calling the police. After what you went through, I figured you’d never want to see another police car again.”
He didn’t sound like he believed it himself, and I was too angry to answer.
“Come on,” Dave pleaded. “It meant nothing. I did you a favor!”
“A favor? Using the one word you know I hate is a favor?”
He seemed to kind of collapse in on himself then, no longer the least bit smug.
“I’m super sorry, man. It won’t happen again, I swear.”
I eyed him darkly. “That’s what you said last time.”
Dave looked shocked and indignant. “What? I haven’t said that word in three years! I said I was sorry. What more do you want?”
I didn’t answer, partly because I was still angry and partly because I didn’t know what I wanted from Dave in order to forgive him.
Dave went on. “You’re being unreasonable, dude. Yeah, it’s a really bad word and I never should have said it, but it’s not the end of the world.”
“You don’t get to decide that! I despise anyone who uses that word. You know that full well, no matter how long it’s been.”
Now Dave looked beside himself. “Oh, for . . .” He threw his hands up, turned around and walked a few paces away before turning around again to face me. “Tell you what. Let’s ask Onion if you’re being unreasonable. You trust her judgment, don’t you?”
We both looked at her. She sighed a little.
“George, you know I love you like a brother, but what Dave said is true. You’re kind of . . . overreacting about this.” She put a hand up to her neck as if regretting having to tell me that. “What’s wrong, George? What is it? What’s this really all about?”
As hard as I tried, I couldn’t stop this great big unexpected wave of sorrow from rising up from deep within me.
I covered my face with my hands and sobbed once—why, I didn’t have a clue.
Onion squeezed my arm. “I know, George,” she said quietly. “I know.”
That calmed me down for some reason, and I took a deep breath to compose myself. At least, I thought with just a little solace, no actual tears flowed.
Dave stood with head bowed, staring down at the sidewalk as if this was all his fault.
“Let’s get out of here,” Onion said, taking me by the arm. “Come on. I’ll drive you home.”
Dave quickly raised his head. “No,” he said. “I will. That’s my job.”
Onion let me go.
I brushed past her without a word to Dave’s car. Even though Onion had her own car and wasn’t riding with us, I got in the back seat as if she were.
Dave and Onion glanced at each other and then parted.
We didn’t speak most of the way home. Finally Dave cleared his throat.
“I don’t know what to say, George, but this silence is killing me.”
“You don’t have to say anything.”
“Yes, I do. I really upset you back there.”
“That wasn’t it.”
“Then why did you—”
“I’m not sure.” I paused. “Onion said she knew. I wonder what she meant.”
Dave shrugged. “Ask her.”
“No, I’m not going to put her on the spot, even if she is wiser than the two of us put together.”
Dave said nothing in response, which told me he already knew that. We didn’t speak again until we entered my neighborhood.
“What’s going to happen to us, Dave?” I asked, staring out the window at nothing in particular.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, the three of us are going to go our separate ways after we graduate, aren’t we? Are we really going to keep in touch, or will that turn out to be just an empty promise?”
The three of us had picked colleges in different states and knew it would be tough to remain such close friends if we hardly ever saw each other.
“Don’t say that!” There was more than a touch of desperation in his voice. “Of course we’ll stay in touch! Absolutely.”
Once again he didn’t sound all that convinced. Why we were having such a deep conversation all of a sudden I wasn’t sure, especially about such a touchy subject we usually went out of our way to avoid. The only thing I could figure was that the scene I had caused kind of opened the floodgates.
“Feeling better now?” Dave asked, as if anxious to change the subject. He glanced back at me.
“Yeah. Except for the hip. Sorry for making a scene.”
“So am I.”
I shook my head. “You’re sorry I made a scene or you?”
“Me. I spoiled the reenactment by making fun of The Movie.”
“You’re always making fun of The Movie.”
“Yeah, but I could tell you were ticked off about it but kept going.”
I shrugged. “It doesn’t matter now.”
He looked back at me with a little satisfied grin. “Hey, I sure had my lines memorized this time though, didn’t I?”
“Yeah, you did. Except for a few words.” I glared at him, still suspicious about that. “And your delivery was perfect. I would have been really impressed if it wasn’t for all the goofy faces.”
He hesitated. “I practiced them in front of a mirror last night.”
“You did? Why?”
“Because I thought they would be funny.”
“Of course,” I said drily.
“Well, Onion thought they were funny.”
“So I heard.”
He hesitated again. “Why do you love that old movie so much?”
Dave had never asked me so directly before. I guess it was his turn to be straightforward.
I took a deep breath to contemplate the question but couldn’t formulate an answer. “I don’t know. It just . . . means a lot to me, that’s all. Something really important.”
“Maybe it’s got something to do with your mom. You know, like a way to cope for feeling abandoned all of a sudden, especially since you never found out why she died.”
For some reason, that thought made me real uncomfortable in almost a pins-and-needles sort of way.
I shrugged; the creepy-crawly feeling went away. “No, that’s not it,” I said, but wondered if what Dave said wasn’t at least a little bit true, if he wasn’t on to something.
“Well, I won’t ever make fun of The Movie again. Not if this is what happens.”
Somehow, the thought of Dave not acting like Dave just for my sake bothered me nearly as much.
“Don’t do that. If you think it’s stupid then you think it’s stupid.”
“I don’t think it’s stupid. It’s just that there are a lot better movies out there. Why you’re so obsessed with that one I’ll never know.”
I shook my head. “Never mind. Just forget it, okay?”
“You want me to forget The Movie?”
“No, what happened back there.”
Dave shifted in his seat, as if the pins and needles had jumped to him. “Man, that’s going to be hard.”
We pulled up in front of my house. I rubbed my increasingly sore hip, anxious now to get an ice pack on it.
“Try,” I said.