Movieland

Chapter 16

My mind was dusk on a marine pier with approaching fog. The clip of the portal replayed on a loop until it became a constant gust of wind in my ears that made my head throb.

Dinner was a burger and fries and Mom and Dad taking turns playing Solitaire and bantering over who was better at a game I figured mostly had to do with luck.

The phone rang until the answering machine clicked.

"Hello. This is not a joke. Due to your past participation, you are due a significant amount of money. We require important personal information in order to process the payment. Please call back immediately so you do not miss out on this money. We look forward to hearing back from you."

Dad barked, "Take the damn phone off the hook."

"Okay, grump," Mom said. "Just because I'm better than you."

I grabbed a plastic bag from the kitchen, wrapped my cast, and took a shower without the need to imagine my dream girl. She was watching Back to the Future and drawing up plans to find Frankie.

I sprawled in bed and listened to Harry Belafonte's "Jump in the Line", or as Mom called it, "Shake, shake, shake, Senora".

The pain in my head dulled when I closed my eyes. I squeezed them tight, trying to massage the ache away, and hummed along with the music:

"Shake, Shake, Shake, Senora, Shake it all the time. Work, work, Work, Senora, Work your body line."

The black veil behind my eyes displayed a grid of small squares, all coursing with electricity, all wrapping their current around my brain. The pain intensified. My head swelled. The squares throbbed. I concentrated on one to slow the pain. The grid went 3D and flattened on a plane. The square elevated and gleamed the elusive gold of a snitch. Daft Punk's Tron: Legacy soundtrack played. I selected the golden square. A sliver of ice stabbed into the back of my head, igniting my essence. The square grew larger and closer until the light swallowed me.

I woke up in an attic. It was dusty but nicely decorated. Neat, with a long table set up with a miniature model of a town. It had houses and a church and roads and trees, and even a local store.

I had seen this table 57 times before, albeit from the comfort of my couch. Upon closer inspection, it was even more impressive. Gulliver's Travels made me expect things to be uglier when magnified. The Maitland town model was the opposite. I didn't see imperfections. I saw the splinters and cracks that signified a life best lived.

I knew I was in a sort of dream. That I could tell myself made it different than all the other times before.

Footsteps approached from behind the attic door. I hid behind a chair. Alec Baldwin and Geena Davis entered. He was in his black and white checkered button up shirt tucked into khaki pants. She wore a flower print blouse. They were both so young.

"Adam, we need to help her," Geena said. Her hair was a big brown perm.

Alec Baldwin was Adam, and this was before he was ALEC BALDWIN. He was just Adam Maitland, picking up a copy of "The Handbook for the Recently Deceased" and sitting on a couch covered in a sheet. Barbara sat next to him and laid her head to the side in frustration. He rifled through the pages.

It was happening. They were going to call Beetlejuice. I needed to say hello before they did.

I stood up and dusted myself off. I was nervous. Not because they were ghosts, but because I was a fan.

"Excuse me, um, ahem, sorry to interrupt. This won't make sense and I don't know why I'm telling you. It's a dream. But I'm your biggest fan. Yikes. That came out wrong. Or I don't know, it came out right, it just never sounds right, 'I'm your #1 fan,' like I'm Annie Wilkes or something. You two— I grew up watching Beetlejuice and Michael Keaton was what hooked me, but you two— you're so kind and naive and you haven't contorted your faces yet, but that scene gave me genuine nightmares. Sorry, it's dumb probably but I wanted to say thank you. Thank you."