On Thursday night over dinner at DiGrassi & Elle with Levi, Kim, and Gemma, Jayne stopped eating and folded her hands.
“Sara.”
I looked up from my ravioli. “Yes?”
“I believe I have been…remiss in your English education.”
My eyebrows furrowed. “But I’ve read nearly all of your books.”
“Not English as in literature, but English as in not-Amish. You’ve been so busy with studies, I haven’t said anything…”
Levi lifted an eyebrow. “But now that she’s working, learning to drive, and applying to school, it seems like the perfect time?”
“Shush. Sara, we haven’t properly introduced you to movies, and I’m sorry.”
“But we watched Beauty and the Beast.”
“Yes, but—”
“And Anne of Green Gables.”
“True.”
“How many movies could there be?”
Jayne, Levi, Gemma, and Kim all exchanged glances. “A lot,” Jayne answered.
“I mean”—I cut a ravioli in half with my fork and lifted it to my mouth—“filming has to be pretty expensive. There can’t be that many, at least that many good ones, can there?”
“Casablanca, Singin’ in the Rain, La Jetée…” Kim ticked the titles off her fingers.
“A Night at the Opera, Amelie, Star Wars, Raiders of the Lost Ark…” Gemma continued.
Jayne slapped the table with her palms. “The Princess Bride? Hello?”
“I’ve read the book,” I pointed out. No one seemed to hear me though.
“She’s going to start school, and she will not have seen The Princess Bride? I mean, I know it’s a cliché, and every middle and high school in the country shows it because it’s something they can show in the classroom without a permission slip, but I can’t let her start without knowing about why the six-fingered man must prepare to die, alright?” Jayne folded her arms.
Kim leaned back in her chair. “You really should throw in a few early John Cusack films.”
I took a sip of my iced tea. “Fine. There are lots of movies I need to watch.”
“More than lots. Multitudes.”
I rolled my eyes at Jayne. “Fine. Multitudes. Just tell me what to watch after I get off of work. Give me a list.”
“You can’t just watch them, Sara. Movies are a group activity. They’re something people watch together, talk about together—it’s a shared experience. I’m thinking we need to have a weekly movie night.”
Gemma raised her hand. “I’m in. I’m single. I’ll bring snacks.”
“If I don’t have work to do, I’ll come—as long as Gemma’s bringing snacks,” Kim added as she snagged the last mozzarella stick. “Although I’ve never known Gemma to truly make snacks. They tend to be hors d’oeuvres or appetizers.”
“Hmm…Yes, and they also tend to taste good, so that’s enough out of you.” Gemma turned to me. “So, now that your film education is planned, how are driving lessons going?”
I lifted a shoulder. “They’re, um…slow.”
Jayne stifled a giggle. “Literally.”
Gemma patted my arm. “It’s okay. Driving can be tough. Driving a stick is extra tough.”
“The stick shift part is okay. I’m just…” I chewed on my lip. “Slow.”
Gemma frowned. “As in learning?”
Jayne couldn’t contain herself any longer. “As in, she can’t get over twenty miles an hour. That kind of slow.”
“In that case,” Kim said, “maybe we should start with The Fast and the Furious.”
Friday morning at the bookstore, William wore an expression of pained endurance.
“Are you ready to learn to maintain the Web catalog?” he asked, fidgeting with the edge of his sleeve as he did so.
I put down the books I was shelving. “Sure.”
“If you’re in the middle of something, it can wait.”
“The books aren’t going anywhere.”
He sighed audibly. I ignored it and followed him to the computer in the back room, where I’d seen the antique collection of Godey’s Lady’s Book magazines. Now the book lay open on the desk, and a camera sat next to it.
“First step is to have some pictures of it. Generally, one shot of it open, one shot closed is sufficient. Sometimes a picture of the back cover. Generally, if a customer wants more pictures, we’ll take more, but until then the two pictures are usually enough.”
“So I take the pictures?”
“You take the pictures. This camera is a Canon, pretty simple to operate.”
Easy enough for him to say.
“This top button opens the lens,” he continued. “In here, with the lamps, you probably won’t need the flash. I recommend putting it into macro mode, so you just move the camera to get the closeness you want.”
“Macro mode?” What on earth was a macro? And how did I find it?
“Here.” He thrust the camera under my nose. “Turn this, right to that symbol. Got it?”
“Okay.”
He handed me the camera. “Good. So here’s the book…go ahead and take some pictures.”
“How do I take the picture?”
“Press the large button on the top.”
“Oh.” That made sense. The large button that sat beneath my index finger.
When the camera was turned on, it showed the image on the back. I waved the camera back and forth, trying to get the book to show up properly. When at last I had it, I pressed the top button. The camera whirred and clicked. A still image showed up on the back of the camera briefly and then disappeared. “Where did it go?”
“Oh, it’s in there. You haven’t used a digital camera before, have you?”
“Were you, like, really sheltered?”
I only shrugged. William was the last person I wanted to know about my Amish upbringing.
After a few pictures of the cover, I reached for the front cover to open the book. Before my fingers could lift the cover, William’s hand reached out to stop me.
“What are you doing?”
I yanked my hand away. “Opening the book. You said we needed a picture of the interior.”
“Are your hands clean?”
I examined them. No dirt, no grime—they appeared clean to me. “Yes.”
“Oils from your fingers can damage books. It’s best to wash them just before handling a book, or to wear gloves.”
“Oh. Fine. Shall I wear gloves then?”
He hesitated. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll open it.”
I rested a hand on my hip. “I wasn’t going to flip the cover open and start tearing through. I do know how to be careful with things.”
William paused while retrieving gloves from the desk drawer. “Oh, all right. Put these on.” He gave me the gloves. “When turning the pages, always turn from the top right-hand corner—least amount of strain on the leaf that way.”
“Leaf?”
“The physical piece of paper. One leaf—two pages.”
“Oh. Why are there spots on the paper?”
“It’s called foxing. They show up on publications printed on paper milled in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. They’re caused by impurities in the water.”
“I see.” How exactly was paper milled? I decided to look it up on Wikipedia when I got home. I had been spending a lot of time on Wikipedia lately.
William stepped back, and I took the interior pictures. “Good,” he said when he looked at them on the tiny screen. Over the next few minutes, he showed me how to “upload” the pictures and enter his written description of the book into the online form. He crossed his arms when he finished. “So, do you have plans for the weekend?”
I nearly fell over from surprise. “Um, kind of. My roommate planned a movie night tonight with some friends.”
“Nice. I’ll let you get back to your work.” He left the workroom without another word.
Hmm. Maybe Cranky William was starting to thaw.
Jayne was practically buzzing when she picked me up from work. “So. We’ve got things all set. Kim and I agreed on a short list for movies tonight—”
“Movies? As in, more than one?”
“You’ve got a lot of catching up to do. Don’t worry—we’ve decided to start with a short film and two feature films.”
“And Gemma’s bringing food?”
“Yes. She said something about goat-cheese stuffed mushrooms and endive spears with lobster, avocado, and grapefruit. I think it was grapefruit. I may have heard wrong.”
I crossed my arms. “If we are sitting around, watching three films and eating Gemma’s cooking, we will all grow fat.”
The traffic light turned red, and Jayne stopped and turned to me. “Are you saying you don’t want to do this? Everyone’s all excited.”
“I’m glad they’re excited, but you never asked if I was interested in these films. Spending an entire evening watching the TV seems a little lazy and idle to me.”
“You may see it as lazy, but think of it as education. These are films everyone at your school will have seen.”
“I’m not in school.”
“You will be.”
I thought back to Zach and his quote from The Grandfather or The Godfather or whatever it was called. Maybe Jayne was right. Maybe movies, for all their silliness, were important in this English world.
“Fine, I will watch the movies if you say it’s that important.”
A smile stretched across Jayne’s face.
“Besides,” I added, “Gemma’s bringing food. How bad could it be?”
“I don’t show up for dinner, and y’all make decisions without me,” Joely groused.
Jayne flicked her on the arm. “Shut up and eat a stuffed mushroom.” She turned to me. “It really was grapefruit. Crazy, huh?”
“You say crazy, I say tasty. Never mind—I managed to get decent lobster in December,” Gemma countered smugly.
“I suppose it doesn’t hurt to have contacts with restaurant suppliers.”
“Probably not.” Gemma flicked her hair over her shoulder. “So—what’s on the playbill for tonight?”
“Steamboat Willie, The Princess Bride, and Casablanca.” Jayne snagged another mushroom. “Next week, I’m thinking West Side Story, West Bank Story, and Toy Story.”
“West Bank Story?” Kim asked. “What’s that?”
“Film short that places West Wide Story in the Middle East. Won an Oscar.”
“Good pick then,” Gemma nodded in appreciation.
We settled in for the evening, Jayne tucked under Levi’s arm on the couch and the rest of us spread out on the remaining living room floor and furniture. I appreciated the early animation of Steamboat Willie and laughed with everyone else during The Princess Bride. I had difficulty hearing the words on occasion because everyone said them with the movie, but I was pleased at the end when Buttercup and Wesley rode into the sunset.
“You know, in the book,” Kim said after the end credits, “Buttercup’s horse throws a shoe and everything goes kind of haywire.”
“True,” I said. “I kind of liked that ending.”
Everyone was quieter for Casablanca, especially since Jayne announced that there would be no breaks, no texting, and certainly no talking during the film.
I think Joely sneaked a text in anyway. For a cop, she certainly had a rebellious streak.
Of the three films, Casablanca was my favorite, although I felt a pang of guilt when Ingrid Bergman went back to her husband instead of staying with Humphrey Bogart. I certainly wanted her to be faithful to her husband, but a part of me felt a similarity between her situation and mine. Had I done the right thing by leaving my Amish past behind? I reminded myself that my family was in no way involved with the French Resistance, they were not an integral part of ending a war of any kind, and I had no husband.
When the TV silenced at last, the night hung heavy, and I could feel my mind and limbs grow sluggish. I said my goodbyes to everyone and headed for bed. I dreamed about my family and everyone I’d left behind.
Saturday morning I rose, showered, and dressed, knowing what I had to do that day. The whole point of working at the bookstore was that it would be easy to schedule around my classes. Classes I was not yet enrolled in.
It was time. I sat at my computer and opened the Art Institute’s website with its stylish designs and invitations to “chat” about the programs. This time, I clicked on the Request Info button and carefully entered my information.
I had to stop hiding.