The Cutting Room: Dark Reflections of the Silver Screen Read Online Free

said.
    She stopped dead still.
    “Your birthday is coming up.”
    “So?” she said, staring down at him. She shook her hair back. Miss Curtwood was a funny kind of blonde. My mom said it came out of a bottle. She was tall and had what my friends later in junior high called “big tits.” Tonight she was dressed in a checkered skirt with a white blouse and pink sweater. Some people though she was pretty. Me, I wasn’t so sure. There was something about her that made me want to run. She reminded me of the cruel witch in Snow White . The hair color was wrong, but maybe if the witch had bleached it—
    Mr. Carrigan smiled at her. “I thought maybe—if you weren’t doing anything—well, perhaps on your birthday we might have supper at the Dew Drop Inn.”
    Miss Curtwood actually giggled. Some of the people waiting to get popcorn stared. “You’re kidding,” she said, a little too loud.
    “Actually,” said Mr. Carrigan, “I’m not.”
    “You’re at least ten years older than I am.”
    Mr. Carrigan smiled. “Perhaps twelve.”
    “You’re an old pervert.” More people stared.
    Mr. Carrigan was starting to turn red. “I think I’d better go see about preparing the projectors.”
    Miss Curtwood sneered at him. “Nothing will change, you old creep.”
    People in the lobby started to mumble to one another. Parents hurried their children past the popcorn and into the theater.
    “Anything can be changed,” said Mr. Carrigan.
    “Not how I feel about you.”
    “Even you could change.”
    “Not a chance,” she said venomously.
    “Something wrong, sweetheart?” It was the big man, her date, back from the bathroom. “Is this old square bothering you?”
    “He owns the theater,” I squeaked. Both of them glanced down at me.
    “Go inside and see if anyone needs help finding seats,” Mr. Carrigan said to me.
    I looked from Miss Curtwood and the big man to Mr. Carrigan and back again.
    “ Now. I’ll talk with you after the show.” His voice was firm. I did as I was told. I noticed that Miss Curtwood and the man came into the auditorium about three minutes later. They took the stairs up to the balcony. The man was red-faced. Miss Curtwood had tight hold of his arm. The people downstairs pointed and whispered to each other.
    I was glad when the lights went down, the curtains parted, and the previews of coming attractions began. But somehow I knew that when the double feature was over, I’d have a special mess to clean up by the big man’s seat. There was. The floor was sticky with Coke, and bits of popcorn were scattered all over. Along with all the rest of it, there was something strange, half-covered by the Necco wrapper. It was like a deflated balloon, five or six inches long, with something gooey inside. I didn’t want to touch it, so I used the candy wrapper to pick it up and put it in the trash. I also suspected I shouldn’t ask Mr. Carrigan about it, although I thought I saw him watching me as I looked at the thing. But he didn’t say anything.
    After I’d finished cleaning up, Mr. Carrigan asked me to come to his office. He looked older. I’d never stopped to wonder before just how old he was. At that point in my life, I thought all adults were ancient. But now I realized Mr. Carrigan was at least as old as my father. He walked with a stoop I hadn’t noticed before. He moved slowly, as though he were in pain. He asked me if I wanted a Coca-Cola. I shook my head. He asked me to sit down. I took the metal folding chair. He sat down then too, on the other side of the desk, and looked at me for a long minute across the heaps of paper, splicing equipment, film canisters, and the cold, half-filled coffee cups.
    “I really love her, you know.”
    I looked back at him dumbly. Why was he telling me this?
    “Miss Curtwood. Barbara. You know who I’m talking about.”
    I nodded, but still said nothing.
    “Do you think I’m not entirely rational about this all?”
    I kept perfectly still.
    Mr. Carrigan