Read Online Last Night at the Circle Cinema by Emily Franklin - Free Book Online Page A

table and chairs.
    From then on, the flamingo showed up from time to time. As a sponsor in the school play program, for example. But the real fun began when I received a postcard—not an e-mail or text but a real, hold-in-your-hand piece of mail—from the Bahamas.
Having a great time here! Seeing old friends and some family who migrated to warmer waters. Hope you’re doing well. —Bob
    â€œBob?” I’d asked Bertucci at the counter of Lady Foot Locker. He rang up a sale and addressed the customer even though he was talking to me.
    â€œDon’t you think it’s just plain rude not to ask someone their name? I mean, sure, all this time you think you know someone—even if they aren’t your species, say—but you don’t!” The customer nodded and slid her receipt into her wallet, collected her shoebox, and left.
    â€œSo you’re telling me my flamingo’s name is Bob?” I asked, a grin playing at my mouth, especially when I realized other customers were listening.
    â€œYes,” Bertucci said, serious in his faux referee employee uniform.
    I sighed with defeat and frustration. “Fine.”
    â€¢â€¢â€¢â€¢
    Outside on the fire escape, my phone had better reception and I answered right when I saw Olivia’s number come up. I wanted to tell her where I was, that I was freaked out, relieved by the rain, that I didn’t like being away from her, but instead I said, “You know I have this total fear that Bob’s going to get his diploma, right? Tomorrow?”
    Olivia laughed, her voice muffled maybe by the lack of decent reception inside or by fear or by the weird feeling I had in the theater that we somehow needed to be quiet, reverent. “That would be awesome.” She coughed, considering something. “But—what’s his last name? It’s alphabetical so ...”
    â€œShit,” I said, and I meant it. How was I supposed to know Bob’s last name? “I never asked the right things.” I paused. There was more to ask her, more to say, but I felt pressed for time—which was ridiculous—and worried I’d screw up with her—which I had and wasn’t ridiculous at all.
    I could hear Olivia’s sweater—Bertucci’s, actually—rustling against her phone. I wondered if she regretted coming to meet me at the Circle, if she thought about leaving, or if she wouldn’t because she was too devoted for that.
    â€œBob wrote to me sometimes,” Olivia said. “Just so you know.”
    I heard water running—maybe she’d found the restroom too, but I didn’t ask about a skull or anything else she’d found. I didn’t know if she’d had spotty reception the whole time like I did, or if she had been chatting with people or texting, and I felt left out. Like I’d missed out because I’d chosen to leave her.
    It was like we were trapped in our own mazes. Olivia took a deep breath and said, “From crazy places—a resort in Thailand. Wearing snowboots in Minnesota, with his little skinny legs.” Her voice sounded far away and sad. “I just thought ... you should know. That sounds so weird but I—all this time I sort of felt like I was doing something illicit.”
    â€œBetraying my exclusive relationship with Bob?” I stared out at the wet streets. The wavering lights looked like the moon on the ocean at Olivia’s beach house where we’d been a few weeks before. “Bob was cheating on me?”
    I could hear her as she licked her lips and breathed hard. She was scared too.
    â€œNo, more like I was cheating on you. Or, really, like I was being included in something that I wasn’t supposed to be,” she said.
    I felt my wet toes in my soggy shoes on the fire escape’s metal slats and wished I could go hug her. She had that appeal—too strong to need you but you wanted to go to her anyway. “It’s not