Read Online Only in the Movies by William Bell - Free Book Online Page B

there you are,” she said. “Hi.”
    I stole a glance at Vanni, streaks of river clay in her hair, on her face and dress, one shoe off and the other gripped in her mucky hand. I swore I could see steam coming out of her ears, feel the sharp darts shooting from her eyes as she spat more mud from her mouth.
    “What’s that noise?” Alba asked.
    “Er, nothing,” I said. “Just the river. I’ve been waiting for you. But seeing you at last makes the wait worthwhile.”
    Vanni shot me a look of approval.
    “Thank you for meeting me,” I added.
    “Well, this
is
on my way home.”
    Meaning she hadn’t intended to see me at all? I wondered. I squared my shoulders and told myself to be positive. I tilted my head in Vanni’s direction, silently asking, What now?
    “Alba, I’ve never met a girl like you,” Vanni whispered.
    “Alba, I’ve never met a girl like you,” I parroted, putting my heart into it, speaking the words with all the emotion I could summon up.
    “What?” she asked.
    I raised my voice. “I said I’ve never met a girl like you.”
    “Eh? I can’t hear you. That stupid river is making too much noise.”
    “I’VE NEVER MET A GIRL LIKE YOU!”
    “Oh.”
    Vanni began to speak again and I echoed her, adjusting my volume. “Ever since that first day, when we sat together in drama class, I’ve felt drawn to you, the way a wave is pulled to the shore, as if we were meant to be together.”
    “Really? Me? You mean like Fate?”
    I made the mistake of looking at Vanni, who was dramatically rolling her eyes. I gazed up at Alba again, at her long golden braid, her beautiful grey eyes waiting for my next line. It came right away.
    “Yes, exactly like Fate. And if Fate is a goddess, I’ll pray to her tonight to thank her for bringing you into my life.”
    “Play with who?”
    “NOT PLAY.
PRAY
.”
    “You don’t have to yell.”
    “Sorry.”
    I modulated my voice again, wondering if words of love sound as sweet when you’re almost bellowing. I repeated the line.
    Alba asked, “Do you believe in Fate?”
    “If she brought you to me, then I believe in her.”
    There was a pause, then Alba spoke again. “Is
Casablanca
still your favourite movie?”
    Keeping my face toward Alba, I flicked my eyes to the shadow under the bridge, thrown off by her question. Vanni extended her hand as if offering me her open palm. Over to you, Jake.
    “Er, yes,” I replied. “The greatest, most romantic movie ever. Someday,” I added, back on track and making it up myself, “I’d like to write a screenplay, updating
Casablanca
. And I’ll picture you in my mind when I write the new Ingrid Bergman part.”
    “She’s much better looking than me,” Alba demurred from the bridge.
    I recognized a cue when I heard one. “No, you’re lovelier by far,” I said, and Vanni joined in smoothly, so I kept going without a hitch. “When I see you up there now, your face framed by the sky and the trees of autumn, I can think of a dozen movies I’d like to write for you.”
    “Really?”
    “But you’re not like other actresses,” I said, conscious that Vanni was whispering with a lot more passion than before. “You’ve got depth, a soul. That’s what I sensed in you the first time we met. My soul—”
    “Mine’s gone with the wind,” Alba said.
    “Huh?” I exclaimed before I could stop myself. Baffled, I glanced at Vanni. She shrugged, held her hands out to her sides as if to say, I don’t get it either.
    “My favourite movie,” Alba continued, as though explaining it to a child. “
Gone with the Wind
. You know, Leslie Howard, the Civil War?”
    I caught on. “Ah, I see. ‘
Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn
.’”
    “Well, that’s not a very nice thing to say!” Alba shot back heatedly. “I didn’t criticize
your
—”
    “No, no! You don’t understand! I’m quoting from the movie. Remember? Rhett says to Scarlett, ‘
Frankly, my
—’”
    “Oh,” Alba said doubtfully. “I forgot