I tried to switch gears on my ride to the university. I was pretty sure that I had just ruined everything a few minutes ago, and all I really wanted to do was sit in the dark watching horror movies all day. Invade me. Zombify me. Snatch my body. Instead I was getting an audience with the president. He didn’t have much power in the wider world, but he ruled the kingdom of campus, and maybe he would be willing to hear me out about the theater and his ruthless employee.
I didn’t know much about him except that he came from a business background and not an academic one. Also, he liked people to call him President Dan. The only beacon of hope I had came from the fact that he was a self-described “movie buff,” and he had even visited the Green Street years ago for a March Madness showing of Hoosiers. In the one photo I had seen of him he was making finger quotes in the air and wearing a bolo tie.
His office waiting room was, unsurprisingly, very presidential. Lots of dark wood and gilded framed pictures of old whitey-haired deans from bygone eras. Alumni magazines were fanned out across a coffee table and the faces of successful recent graduates smiled up at me with airbrushed teeth. The administrative assistant took one look at me and said:
“You must be Ethan.”
How she knew this, I did not know. I’ve been told I look like an Ethan, but probably I was just the only thing on the calendar that morning.
“Go ahead in,” she added. “They’re waiting for you.”
“They?” I asked.
She looked at her computer where she was scrolling through photos of someone else’s vacation, smiling and clicking away. Like. Like. Like.
“Okay,” I said. “Thanks.”
I walked down the hallway past more portraits. Finally, I approached an open door, and it felt like I was finally seeing the Wizard of Oz. But instead of smoke and fire and holograms, the man behind the curtain was already in plain sight. President Dan sat behind a desk in a maroon suit and tie. His glasses were as round as his pink cheeks. He was somehow smiling and frowning at the same time. And when I stepped all the way inside the office, I saw why.
On one side of the room was Ron Marsh, sitting in a leather chair, one foot resting on his knee. And on the other side was Griffin, slouching in a wooden folding chair with a member of campus security standing behind him. Griffin saw me come in, but he refused to make eye contact with me. The security officer looked a little bored. A walkie-talkie crackled from his enormous belt.
“Good morning, Ethan,” said President Dan. “Thank you for joining us.”
I was still standing about ten feet past the doorway.
“You’re welcome,” I said.
Everyone waited to see if I had anything else to say. I did not.
The unexpected gathering in the room had stifled any initial pleas I had hoped to make. It seemed I had walked into some kind of intervention. President Dan looked around the room then folded his hands amiably on his desk and said: “Ethan, can I tell you something I read recently?”
At first I thought this was a rhetorical question. When I saw that it wasn’t, I said:
“Sure.”
“Did you know nostalgia comes from the Greek ‘nostos,’ meaning return and ‘algos’ which is suffering?”
“No,” I said.
I looked around the room. I wondered if he’d already shared this with everyone else. No one spoke.
“Interesting, right?”
“Uh-huh,” I said.
“I think so too,” said President Dan. “And I was thinking about this in regard to the situation we have here, where on the one hand we love this old theater and on the other hand we have the present, which we cannot stop. The present is always coming no matter how much we might want to put the brakes on and . . . nostos.”
“Can I ask a quick question?” I asked.
“You just did!” said President Dan, grinning.
I pointed to the right.
“Why is Griffin here?”
Ron, silent so far, suddenly spoke up from the corner.
“I caught him in my office, going through my garbage like a raccoon,” he said. “I’m having him expelled.”
I looked to President Dan.
“I’m afraid breaking and entering is against the student code of conduct,” he said. “So that’s a likely possibility. Also, we have received some security footage that shows him riding on the elderly mobility device that crashed into the Applebee’s on Washington recently.”
“I’m innocent!” yelled Griffin. “If you want a real story, ask your employee what he was doing at the karaoke joint! Go ahead, ask him!”
I looked at Ron. He looked back at me. Then at President Dan.
“The kid thinks I’m involved in some kind of scheme,” he said.
“You’re a grifter! A con man! A fakealoo! I know one when I see one!”
Griffin wasn’t even trying to make sense anymore. So, I tried to pull myself together. I looked at Ron.
“What were you doing there?” I asked.
The room went quiet for a moment. Then Ron sighed and rubbed his eyes. It was the first time I had ever seen his face turn red without being accompanied by a burst of anger.
“I was meeting my ex-wife,” he said. “Okay? I like to sing with her. Is that such a crime? No one said divorce was going to be easy. I’m still figuring it out. We both are.”
“Your ex-wife?” I said.
“What was in the envelopes?” asked Griffin.
“What envelopes?” asked President Dan.
Griffin stood up and pointed at Ron.
“Kickbacks! I’ve got it all on tape!”
“Griffin, stop yelling,” I said.
“The papers,” said Ron.
“What papers?” asked President Dan.
“Divorce papers,” he said. “The divorce papers! I . . . uh . . . keep mailing them back. She wants them finalized. But I’m just not ready! We all have our own timelines for these things.”
Ron looked on the verge of tears.
“This is all getting very strange,” said the president.
“We used to be business partners. I thought maybe if I showed her my vision for this project . . .”
“I thought this rebuild was in the best interest of the college,” said President Dan.
“How could that possibly be?” I said.
I was in the middle of the room now, shifting my gaze from person to person. I walked over to a table near the president’s desk and picked up a college brochure.
“This is supposed to be a place to encounter new ideas. Look at the world from new angles, right? That’s what my dad told me. To go to college so I can be exposed to things I’d never see or learn about anywhere else. Well, that doesn’t seem to be happening with this.”
I was gesticulating wildly with my arms now.
“My dad was the first person in his family to go to college and he came to this theater and saw a double feature of Casablanca and Citizen Kane. After that, he started coming at least three times a week. He saw all the great directors here. Bergman. Hitchcock. Spike Lee. Claire Denis. Tarkovsky. Kubrick and Wong Kar-wai. It was where he got his real education. And where he could be with his people, all sharing an experience. It’s not for everybody. Nothing is. But the people who love this place need it. They need a place to be. They need a community.”
When I was done speaking, Griffin was applauding. But he was the only one. Ron was still rubbing his eyes.Who knows if he had even heard me. President Dan just blinked at me for a moment from behind his round glasses. He cleared his throat.
“Thank you for that, Ethan. That was very . . . genuine.”
He unfolded and folded his hands.
“There is one problem, however,” he said.
“A problem.”
“Yes, we sent in some inspectors after the rat situation, and in addition to that, there were a few other hiccups.”
“I know,” I said. “It needs some repairs . . .”
“It has extensive structural damage.”
“But nothing that can’t be fixed, right?”
“We thought it was just from some ruptured pipes but there are also termites. A lot of them.”
“Okay.”
“And black mold.”
“Sure, but . . .”
“And asbestos. And the ventilation system itself is an extreme fire hazard. It’s a miracle the place hasn’t burned down yet.”
I was no longer interrupting.
“There’s also a misplaced sewage line. Some of the support beams are apparently made of Styrofoam. Don’t get me started on the joists. The foundation is cracked. There’s bat guano in the attic, and . . .”
“I get it,” I said. “It’s not doing so hot. It’s an old building. Just tell me what we can do about it? Where do we start?”
President Dan blinked.
“We’re going to start, right?” I asked.
“I have recommended it for demolition,” said President Dan.