Sunday Night Special

By  Laura Rodley           

Claire wiped her sweat-rimmed bangs back with her forearm as she walked to their car. The sky had turned green and dark but the drenching thunderstorms had bypassed the drive-in so there was none of the storm’s cooling relief. Electricity still hung in the air, but there was the triple feature, with Spider-Man first. They were late, as usual, to the Hinsdale, New Hampshire drive-in, which made Dane angry. Previews weren’t important, right, but he insisted on being there for them, and they’d missed them. Red, black and white newspaper reel type drawing board images of superhero drawings flashed on the screen.

            She used to blame being late on taking their old dog—Maisie, a border collie cross—out before they left for anywhere. But she’d had to bring Maisie to the vet to be put to sleep on Friday. She and her son Ian had done most of the carrying of Maisie in and out for her to do her business while Dane worked every evening. Maisie sat in the doorway of the living room, keeping an eye on Claire as she cooked at the stove, washed dishes, served dinner, worked on her photography images. The vet said she had no muscle left, she was pure sinew, and didn’t know how she kept walking at all. Claire knew how: devotion, something that had gone missing from her marriage. The last two months, every evening she asked the great spirit that Maisie be taken in the night, so she wouldn’t have to hold her life in her hands, make the hard decision, the final trip to the vet. Then Maisie got a sore in her left hip that opened, and that was it. Her son held her as the vet inserted the needles, and her son carried Maisie out for her last ride in the car, and riding in the car was something Maisie had loved.

            Dane dug the hole in their yard, and they’d buried Maisie yesterday. Neither her son nor Dane cried, but she made up for the two of them. Seventeen years of solid friendship, devotion, fun.

           Dane said he hadn’t grown up with animals like she had, did not connect with animals.

          She handed the Milk Duds, Jujubes, and butter-drenched popcorn in through the window to Dane, who barely looked at her. That’s OK, she was used to it, he was so easily distracted. As Spider-Man scaled the wall, the screen flickered, and their car radio set on the station that transmitted the soundtrack discharged only static. She glanced round the well-mowed arena set against the woods, static everywhere, people sitting on tailgates of their cars in darkness, some in lawn chairs. Car lights were turned on, flashed repeatedly, horns honking.

          A silhouette of a couple kissing appeared on the dark screen, illuminated by the multitude of high beams. The man leaned into the woman, tightly embraced, blocking out sound, then they split apart, their hands spread apart in surprise, also highlighted. They quickly exited.

         Then Spider-Man appeared on the big screen again, at his aunt’s house, radio speakers resumed working, and lights were turned off to the sound of clapping and cheers.

         Claire eased into the car, leaned against the middle console to hold Dane’s hand. He jerked his hand away to lift popcorn to his mouth. 

         Maisie would have leaned into her hand, slid backwards on the hard polished boards of their kitchen boards as she pet her.

         Abruptly, lights out again, giant screen solid black, soundtrack gone, radios full of static. People started booing, flashing their lights, honking, some started up their cars to leave, get their money back.

        Then animals appeared on the screen, dogs and cats, all sizes, Saint Bernards, chihuahuas, rottweilers, Siamese, Persians, tabby, tortoise shell cats, illuminated from behind by a blindingly bright light blue sky. Even though Claire wasn’t wearing special glasses, they achieved 3-D status, and the animals jumped out of the screen onto the grass, scrambling, leaping and running to different cars. People stopped their exodus, their honking, swung open their car doors.

        “Robin,” exclaimed a tall woman with long blonde hair one row ahead of Claire and Dane, stooping to scoop up a white fur-ball. “How did you get here? You’re cremated.”

          People bumped into each other running to greet their animals, echoes of, “Angel, Stinky, Flower, Grace, Meatball, Stupid, Micky, Toby, Arianna,” dogs leaping up, cats rubbing against legs, arms full of multitudes of animals.

         Some people sat on the edge of their car’s seat with their doors open as dogs and cats leaped around them. “I never thought I’d see you again,” cried a heavy-set man with a shaven head, tattoos of dragons, snakes and skulls down his neck and arms, wiping his eyes, then laughing, holding tight onto a Golden Long-Haired Dachshund.

         Children leaped up and down, as two giant caramel-colored Belgian horses jumped off the screen and pranced over to an ancient blue Dodge Dart beside them, careful to place their hooves without stepping on anyone. “Diamond, Clover!”  A white-haired couple reached up to pat their long noses.      

         A tricolor collie jumped up on the car door beside Dane, who’d sat immobile. “Bandit,” he held his hands out his window, clasped the collie’s head in his hands.  

       “You told me you never had a dog.”

        Dane withdrew his hands from the open window, got out of the car, and started rocking Bandit’s head left to right, “I didn’t. Bandit was our neighbors’ dog. When I was sixteen, Bandit followed me to the subway on my way to Boston College, followed me down into the subway station, followed the train on the tracks and got hit. I couldn’t ever talk about it. Here he is!”      

       Four cats bumped Claire against her knees. “Mama Cat, Spotty! Whiskey, Kitten!”

       Then a beige dog, resembling a coyote, thin and wiry, her first dog, jumped up, putting her paws on her chest, smiling up at her with dark brown eyes, tongue lolling. “Puppy,” she buried her face in her fur. Against her back she felt warmth.

       Claire spun around. Maisie wagged her long black and white flume of a tail, eyes bright, tongue pink and healthy, looking up at her in delight. “You beautiful girl. Will you ever forgive me?  What a sweetheart you are. How am I going to feed all of you?”