nervous about showing
him. Not as nervous about asking him if they were dating, but certainly there
was something there. It hummed just below the surface of her more casual
thoughts, just lying in wait for the right moment. Then once they got to the
basement door, the moment sprung itself on her.
She knew there was a reason not to show him, and there it
was suddenly in a blinding flash of oh my fucking God . It nearly
paralyzed her. She came close to just stopping with her hand up to the
doorknob, and even after she’d managed to open it she couldn’t quite go
through. She just stood at the top of the rickety stairs as he trotted
trustingly down into the darkness.
What on earth was he going to think when he saw it?
She had every single one of his films down there. She
had them all, from his early bloody bit parts in several slasher franchises,
right the way through to Captain Amazing . And he couldn’t possibly fail
to notice them either. If she’d scattered them around the place she might have
gotten away with it, but she knew she hadn’t. She stored all her films by actor
or actress, so somewhere down there he had a shelf all to himself.
Like a great and terrible testament to some obsessive
insanity.
“Bernie, wait a second,” she called out, but it was too
late.
He had already been sucked in by her movie collection.
“Holy Mother of God,” he said, and she understood why. Even
she sometimes came down here and took a step back, the way he did when he first
saw it. All you could see from the stairs were row upon row of bookshelves,
each one so close to the next you could hardly see between. They seemed to
gather together in the darkness, almost to the ceiling and studded with colors
you could just about make out.
There was the red of 28 Days Later and the brilliant
blue of Superman , just waiting in the patient darkness for him to
discover them. And though she knew what else he would discover while he was in
there, the thought still gave her a thrill. It made her go all warm with pride—as
did the thing he then said.
“How in God’s name did you amass all of this?” he asked, in
a way that suggested it was some staggering achievement. Other people gained
promotions or climbed mountains. She created a film library so extensive he
didn’t even wait for an answer. He was too busy disappearing between shelves
that stood taller than his head, one hand trailing over the boxes as though he
just couldn’t help himself.
He had to revel in them just a little bit.
Or maybe revel in them a lot.
She could hear him making sounds as he wandered farther down—small
notes of surprise or awe, culminating in the kind of exclamation she adored him
for.
“I cannot fully believe you have every episode of Star
Trek . You have a bookcase of Star Treks , Alice, yet we have been
watching the food channel. We must rectify this immediately with a marathon,”
he said, and her sad little heart fluttered.
Did he really want to watch Star Trek with her? And a
whole marathon too—that would take so much time. He’d have to be here
for an entire month to get it done, and oh that month sounded like heaven.
There would be huddling under blankets, popcorn and party food, falling asleep
halfway through episodes of Voyager —all the things she’d been promised
by people talking about TV watching on Tumblr.
But best to play it cool.
“Sure, if you want.”
“Seriously? You’re amazing.”
“Well, I do my best.”
“You succeed—look at all these great fucking movies. Fright
Night , Starman , The Adventures of Baron Munchausen, Terminator …you
love all of these?”
He sounded incredulous, she thought. And she knew why. They
were such old movies for someone like her to love. They were weird, she was
sure, for someone like her. But she couldn’t tell him why she loved these weird
old things. She couldn’t tell him about watching with her mother, because then
she’d have to talk about all of that stuff. So instead
him. Not as nervous about asking him if they were dating, but certainly there
was something there. It hummed just below the surface of her more casual
thoughts, just lying in wait for the right moment. Then once they got to the
basement door, the moment sprung itself on her.
She knew there was a reason not to show him, and there it
was suddenly in a blinding flash of oh my fucking God . It nearly
paralyzed her. She came close to just stopping with her hand up to the
doorknob, and even after she’d managed to open it she couldn’t quite go
through. She just stood at the top of the rickety stairs as he trotted
trustingly down into the darkness.
What on earth was he going to think when he saw it?
She had every single one of his films down there. She
had them all, from his early bloody bit parts in several slasher franchises,
right the way through to Captain Amazing . And he couldn’t possibly fail
to notice them either. If she’d scattered them around the place she might have
gotten away with it, but she knew she hadn’t. She stored all her films by actor
or actress, so somewhere down there he had a shelf all to himself.
Like a great and terrible testament to some obsessive
insanity.
“Bernie, wait a second,” she called out, but it was too
late.
He had already been sucked in by her movie collection.
“Holy Mother of God,” he said, and she understood why. Even
she sometimes came down here and took a step back, the way he did when he first
saw it. All you could see from the stairs were row upon row of bookshelves,
each one so close to the next you could hardly see between. They seemed to
gather together in the darkness, almost to the ceiling and studded with colors
you could just about make out.
There was the red of 28 Days Later and the brilliant
blue of Superman , just waiting in the patient darkness for him to
discover them. And though she knew what else he would discover while he was in
there, the thought still gave her a thrill. It made her go all warm with pride—as
did the thing he then said.
“How in God’s name did you amass all of this?” he asked, in
a way that suggested it was some staggering achievement. Other people gained
promotions or climbed mountains. She created a film library so extensive he
didn’t even wait for an answer. He was too busy disappearing between shelves
that stood taller than his head, one hand trailing over the boxes as though he
just couldn’t help himself.
He had to revel in them just a little bit.
Or maybe revel in them a lot.
She could hear him making sounds as he wandered farther down—small
notes of surprise or awe, culminating in the kind of exclamation she adored him
for.
“I cannot fully believe you have every episode of Star
Trek . You have a bookcase of Star Treks , Alice, yet we have been
watching the food channel. We must rectify this immediately with a marathon,”
he said, and her sad little heart fluttered.
Did he really want to watch Star Trek with her? And a
whole marathon too—that would take so much time. He’d have to be here
for an entire month to get it done, and oh that month sounded like heaven.
There would be huddling under blankets, popcorn and party food, falling asleep
halfway through episodes of Voyager —all the things she’d been promised
by people talking about TV watching on Tumblr.
But best to play it cool.
“Sure, if you want.”
“Seriously? You’re amazing.”
“Well, I do my best.”
“You succeed—look at all these great fucking movies. Fright
Night , Starman , The Adventures of Baron Munchausen, Terminator …you
love all of these?”
He sounded incredulous, she thought. And she knew why. They
were such old movies for someone like her to love. They were weird, she was
sure, for someone like her. But she couldn’t tell him why she loved these weird
old things. She couldn’t tell him about watching with her mother, because then
she’d have to talk about all of that stuff. So instead
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