It Only Happens in the Movies

by Holly Bourne

  He never used to play with us this much…

  It was a bitter thought, one that arrived already tasting sour. But it was true. Movie Night was the only real time we spent with him. He’d always been so busy with work, leaving Mum to do all the child-raising stuff. I guess now he was older he could get away with taking time out for his family. His brand-new family. His blank slate. His second chance. At what? I still didn’t know.

  “Audrees, audrees,” Albert demanded, and I put my cup down and sat back on the floor.

  Jessie left us to it – cooking the lunch I wasn’t invited to.

  “So, how’s it going, Audrey?” Dad picked Lola up and swung her. She screeched and giggled in delight.

  “Good…good.”

  “How’s school?”

  “It’s okay.”

  “And your new job is working out okay?”

  I was surprised he’d remembered. I’d only mentioned getting the job in passing when we took the twins to the park last month. “Yes. I’ve done two shifts now. I’m getting used to it. Hey, did you know they serve cinnamon dust there? On the popcorn?”

  But just then, Lola got upset that Albert had snatched a toy and started crying, and Dad’s attention wavered. “Hey hey, play nice, guys. Remember to SHARE.” He wrestled the toy out of Albert’s grip, and Albert started wailing. I bent down and picked him up, bouncing him on my knee. Meanwhile Dad crouched over Lola, whispering to calm her down, turning his back so Albert wouldn’t see the toy that had caused so much drama. And, because toddlers have the memories of fish with dementia, Albert soon forgot why he was crying and started giggling as I waved a Mr Potato Head at him.

  Jessie appeared at the door again. “Lunch in twenty minutes,” she said brightly. Then she looked at me and realized it was impossible not to invite me. “Oh, Audrey, you’re welcome to join us. Isn’t she, Paul?”

  Dad picked Lola up with an oomph and sat back up on the armchair. “Of course, Audrey. You must stay!” He sounded genuine but I couldn’t. I’d feel like the universe’s biggest traitor. Plus I wasn’t sure I could swallow the whole family meal thing. Literally.

  I shook my head. “I can’t. I’ve got coursework to do. My new job is eating up a lot of time.”

  “Oh, that’s a shame,” Jessie said, though she smiled as she said it, and dashed back into the kitchen. I didn’t have much time. I didn’t know how I was even supposed to start this conversation, especially with the twins hanging off our necks.

  “It’s a shame you can’t stay, Auds.” Dad leaned over and picked a picture book up off the floor, flipping the pages to show Lola. “Jessie makes the best roast lamb. I swear that woman could turn vegetarians.” My whole face flinched. He used to say the exact same thing about Mum… Did he not remember? “But it’s good you’re taking coursework seriously. How’s Drama going?”

  “I quit, remember?”

  “Oh yes, oh yes…” He pointed to an apple. “See, Lola? Ap-ple.”

  No concern that Drama was all I’d ever wanted to do. No comment on why I might’ve given it up. No, not when Lola might be on the verge of saying apple. So I just came out with it.

  “Dad, why are you telling Mum to sell the house?”

  He looked up straight away, and I thought, Aha, that got your attention.

  “What’s she been telling you?”

  “Just that your lawyers are saying that you want her to sell the house. Our home,” I added. Because if you can’t use emotional manipulation against the father who left you and doesn’t realize you quit the one thing that made you happy, then when can you?

  Dad bit angrily on his lower lip, not answering. The book lay open on A is for Apple and Lola clawed at it. Albert shifted on my knee.

  “This isn’t a great time to talk about it.”

  “It’s just a simple question, Dad.”

  “Did she send you?”

  “No,” I lied. “I overheard her talking to the lawyers on the phone and I just wanted to hear it from you.”

  Is it madness that I still wanted Dad to find Mum attractive? That I protected him from the worst of her just in case it put him off her even more? Even though I was holding his new child? With another woman? I just didn’t want him to see Mum as a bitter, angry, terrified, pathetic, spurned mess…even though she was.

  He raised an eyebrow, not believing me. Much as I was well-rehearsed in making Mum seem sorted, Mum wasn’t so good at keeping up appearances. Dad had to get her phone number blocked. “You shouldn’t have heard that,” he said.

  The twins were losing patience. He picked up the TV remote, switching it onto CBeebies. The twins’ heads swung towards the screen like it was a hypnotist and fell instantly quiet – lost totally in the fluffy yellow blob floating around cooing “Ba-boo ba-boo”. Albert slid off my lap like he was in a trance and Dad smiled sheepishly. “It’s only for ten minutes… Jessie says we’re not supposed to show them TV until they’re at least three or something but…well…look…” He gestured to his two lobotomized children.

  “So, is it true?”

  Dad tilted his head back, running his hands through his new beard and the tiny part of me that wasn’t dead inside gasped its final breath.

  “I don’t believe it.” My voice shook. “Dad, it’s our home!” The pain in my voice was so raw that Albert looked away from the TV. “Dad?” My throat closed up, I couldn’t say any more.

  He didn’t even come over to hug me. He just sat in the chair, shaking his head. “It’s not for a while, Audrey. Don’t you worry yourself. Legally, your mum can keep the house until you’ve been raised. Until you leave. But we’re just looking at the future.”

  “What does that even mean?”

  “Audrey, honey!” He stood up and came and sat next to me on the sofa. I rigidly let him stroke my long hair. “Look, when you go to uni, you won’t need that house any more. Will you? And it’s awfully big just for your mum to be rattling around in.”

  “But it’s our home…”

  “Audrey, let’s not be selfish here. Look at this place. It’s too small! The twins are only going to get bigger, and you and Dougie won’t be there any more. I’m just being practical.”

  Practical… The word that covers a multitude of worse words. Cold. Calculating. Unfeeling.

  “Don’t you want Albert and Lola to have their own bedrooms?”

  Here’s another word: manipulative.

  “We need an extension, and we can’t afford one unless I get money from the sale of the house.”

  “But…but…” Oh God, there were so many things I wanted to say. Like, well you should have thought of that. Or, what about where I spend the holidays? Or, what about the memories? Or, what about Mum and how she knows all our neighbours and has lived there for over twenty-five years? Or how it shouldn’t be our problem. How this was HIS mess.

  He was babbling now, trying to win me around. “Audrey, this is adult stuff. Don’t worry about it. It’s a while before you even go away anyway. And, hey, an extension here means there’ll be room for you to come and stay… Maybe talk to your mum? See if you can get her to see things like this? I mean, Albert and Lola are innocent in this whole thing, aren’t they? We can’t punish them for your mum’s and my mistakes.”

  Mum’s and his mistakes? MUM’S MISTAKES? Red descended. I had to get up. I had to leave. I had to not be here before I said something un-take-backable. I was the only person holding the bonds of our old family together and I couldn’t fold.

  I stood up. “I’m off.”

  “Audrey? Come on. Don’t be like this.”

  I bent down and kissed my brother and sister on the cheek. They hardly noticed. The yellow fluffy blob had found a blue fluffy blob and they were jumping onto each other’s stomachs, shouting “Moo-mah, moo-mah”. Then I was up, out of the door. I didn’t call goodbye to Jessie. I just grabbed my coat and stormed out. Dad called my name behind me, but not proper shouting. Not a shout that would rock his happy little boat. Not a shout that would
make Jessie ask questions. Not at a volume that would upset his new batch of offspring. Not a shout that would alter his cosy little Sunday in any way. Whereas, back home, at the home he wanted to rip out from under us, Mum’s coffee cup still lay smashed on the table, her feet sticking out from under the blanket on the sofa where she was probably lying, with her eyes half open, staring blankly at the TV until I came home with news that would throw her several rungs further down a ladder. I slammed the front door, feeling better as it shook the house.

  I do exist. I am here. I am part of this life, whether you like it or not. I will have reactions. I will be a human. I won’t go away quietly. I deserve to be here.

  I was standing at the end of the drive, trying to pull myself together, when Dad appeared – holding up his arm, asking me to wait. He tiptoed over the gravel driveway in his socks, wincing with each step.

  “Audrey, come on.” I tried to read his face but I couldn’t. Because I couldn’t trust one thing this man, this man who made me, said.

  “I’m too upset to talk right now, Dad.”

  “I didn’t mean to upset you, I’m sorry if I did. You took me by surprise, that’s all.”

  “So it’s my fault now?”

  “No, no, I’m not saying that. It’s just a very complicated process, Audrey. I wasn’t expecting you to bring it up.”

  “Well, sorry if I ruined your perfect Sunday.” It came out so childishly…

  Dad gave a small smile, like he felt sorry for me. “Look, Audrey. This stuff is for the lawyers. If your mum is trying to get you involved at all…”

  “She’s not. I said! I overheard her in the kitchen.”

  “I know your mother, Audrey. I was married to her for a long time…”

  And you’re not any more.

  “…and I think we both know that she sent you today. That’s not fair of her, Audrey. None of this is fair on you and Dougie, and I’m sorry it happened, I really am.” He didn’t sound very sorry. He didn’t look it. “But I couldn’t help falling in love. It’s not something you have any control over. One day you’ll understand.”

  I could never understand.

  “As I said, this is all still a while away. It’s not worth worrying about yet. Just focus on your studies, on work. On your Drama.”

  “I told you, I quit Drama.”

  “Oh yes, well, you know what I mean.”

  The click of the door. We both turned towards it. Jessie stood on the threshold, her arms crossed. “Lunch is ready,” she cooed. Knowing she was interrupting something. Not caring. Asserting her dominance. She may as well have run down the driveway, cocked her leg and pissed on him.

  “Heel,” I said to Dad, raising my eyebrows. He lost his temper. He leaned into me, his voice suddenly gruff. “Don’t you DARE talk about Jessie like that. Don’t you dare.” It was quieter the second time, more violent. His eyes glinted with…something. He jerked his chin up. Then, all he said was, “It was lovely to see you, Audrey,” before he turned and waddled back over the gravel, back into the arms of the woman he had chosen over us.

  People always say the world is so small. It isn’t. There’s over seven BILLION humans on this planet. Your chance of bumping into someone you know, somewhere you aren’t usually? Minuscule. Your chances of bumping into someone who is also a love interest? Not a hope in hell. But in romance films, everyone is bumping into EVERYONE. Forget statistical probabilities. Nope. Their love beats mathematics. Even though they inevitably live in big cities like LA, or New York or London, the two lovers are just ALWAYS what-a-coincidence crossing paths in coffee shops and park benches and cutesy bookstores.

  Harry was sitting on my goddamned wall.

  I spotted him before he spotted me. His long legs spread out to prop up his gangly body. His whole body jiggled as he tapped his foot. I crunched on a frozen leaf and he looked up, more teeth than anything else as he smiled.

  “What the hell are you doing on my wall?”

  “Audrey! I need you.”

  I closed my eyes for a second. Now really wasn’t a good time for Harry to be on my garden wall. I needed to go inside and tell Mum that Dad was going to evict us the moment I got a UCAS offer. “Why are you on my wall?”

  “I didn’t have your phone number. Ma wouldn’t give it to me. She said it was privacy or something.”

  “So you turn up at my house?”

  His teeth grew bigger as his smile grew wider. “I told you. I need you!”

  He jumped down and opened his arms for a hug.

  “I’m not hugging you.”

  “Don’t fight your urges, Audrey.”

  I kept shaking my head in disbelief. “Why do you need me, Harry?”

  “It’s this script. Your zombie bride has changed everything! I need to rewrite loads and I need your insight into her. I’ve been up all night trying to get it right.”

  I tilted my head and peered at him. He did look wrecked. There were circles under his eyes, his face paler than normal.

  “Don’t you have to be at Flicker?”

  “Nah, Sunday Sam works on a Sunday.”

  “Who’s Sunday Sam?”

  “He’s been there since, like, 1972. Anyway, we’re getting off point. Will you help me?”

  I moved my body weight from one foot to the other. “I don’t know anything about script writing.”

  “You don’t need to. I just need to ask you some questions about how you see the bride. Most of the time you can just lie on your bed and read a magazine or something.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Oh, so you’re coming inside? Into my bedroom?”

  He patted my shoulder and sighed. “Audrey, it would save us time if you just accept the inevitable that I will end up in your bedroom.”

  “You’re actually shameless, aren’t you?”

  “So, can I come up?”

  I hardly had space in my head to think about it, but I was able to make the following conclusions. If I brought Harry in with me, Mum wouldn’t be able to react as nutso as I expected her to. Plus, annoying and flirtatious as he was, he was a rather welcome distraction from my planned freefall into emotional oblivion. Finally, I’d LOVED being the bride last night. I had so many ideas for her, for what drove her, for where she came from…

  “Okay, you can come up to WORK. Not to flirt.”

  He beamed at me so hugely I thought I might be blinded. “Perfect! Brilliant. And I promise I’ll stop flirting with you as long as you stop flirting with me.”

  “Hang on, I’m not flirting…” But he was already bounding up the path and rapping on the door. Mum didn’t know what to do with Harry. She flung the door open, still in her dressing gown, obviously expecting me with news. Instead she got, “Hi, you must be Ms Winters, I’m Harry. I work with Audrey at the cinema. How are you?”

  “Oh, hello. I didn’t know Audrey was having a friend around.”

  “My fault entirely. I invited myself round. I need her help with a project. Wow, what a kitchen you have here.” He stepped past her. “It’s gorgeous. Did you decorate this yourself?”

  Mum pulled her dressing gown around herself and followed him into our kitchen. “Umm, yes, I did. Some time ago now though.”

  “You’ve got great taste. Duck egg blue?”

  I raised an eyebrow. How the hell did Harry know what “duck egg blue” was?

  Within five minutes, he was sitting at our breakfast bar, sipping tea, making Mum laugh with talk of what Dougie was like in school. Like the rest of the world, she was dazzled by Harry’s compliments and seemed to have forgotten I was in charge of saving our home. After tea – “Wow, you really know how to make a good cuppa, Ms Winters” – Harry and I decamped to my bedroom. I mentally ran through the possible mess as we climbed the stairs. Had I left last night’s bra on my chair? Or worse? My period-stained knickers from where yesterday’s tampon had seeped through on my uber-long shift? I was SURE I’d put them in my laundry basket, but I still pushed through the door first, frantically scanning for gr
oss bits. Luckily, apart from a pile of clothes (sans period knickers) on the floor, it was relatively okay. Just as well, as Harry flopped straight onto my bed, belly first, and said, “Come on then. Seeing as you dragged me here. We may as well.”

  I leaned against my wall and crossed my arms. “May as well what?”

  He raised his eyebrows multiple times.

  “Harry!”

  He just laughed and rolled onto his side, flipping his legs over to sit up straight again. “Okay, Audrey, we’ll play your game. Now, help me with this script.”

  And, just like that, Director Harry took over. He cleared a space on my desk, pulled up a chair and started poring over the script, talking all serious, like this was a UN conference to decide the future of humanity or something. “You see? In this scene? When she meets my character? I need them to fall in love, but she hates men so much, I don’t know what can happen to buy him some time, you know? I mean, how do you win over a feminist zombie? Especially as he’s not even a zombie yet and she wants to eat his brain.”

  I smiled, and pulled over my bedside table to perch on. “Well, don’t label her as a feminist zombie. That’s what she’s so mad about. The fact she’s spent her whole life being labelled and she doesn’t get to decide what the label is.”

  “You’re right! You’re so right. You see! I told you I needed you.”

  We worked for an hour or two, him showing me the script and me adding my input where I could. He never once lost energy, which seemed mad as he looked like he hadn’t slept at all. In fact, the more tired I got, the more energetic he was. The flirting stopped and he just started taking everything I said really seriously. “Yes, that’s so true!” and, “Argh, of course,” before scribbling over his script. I didn’t know him very well, but I was seeing a whole different side to him. He even sensed my waning attention, and said, “Hey, don’t you need to do coursework or something? Is it okay if I stay here? Just in case I need you? But you can get on with some other stuff.”