Wow! I loved the positive reactions to the first installment of JUST ACROSS THE STREET IN NEW YORK CITY. The re-release of the entire novel will be on 2 February. Until then, I’ll keep posting.

Here’s the second installment. I hope you enjoy it.

§§

“Mamie,” Toulousa called out, slamming the bathroom door shut with her foot, “I have to head to the train in 15 minutes.”

Mamie rubbed her hands on a dishtowel and asked, “Anything good playing now?” She’d been hearing Toulousa’s tales about the Triplex films for three weeks. In her lifetime, Mamie had been to a movie theater two times, once to see Gone With The Wind, and the other time for 2001: A Space Odyssey.

“Same old, same old,” Toulousa answered. “You have to come to the Triplex and see for yourself one of these days. You’ll love the ladies bathroom, Mamie. It’s big. Five stalls big.”

The grey-haired woman picked up a knife to chop kale. “I don’t need to visit your Triplex. I’ve got you telling me everything I need to know.”

Toulousa transferred Coco into Mamie’s arms, kissed the baby’s cheek, and said, “I know. It’ll take Fred Astaire rising from the dead to get you into Manhattan to see a movie.”

She slid into her purple coat, wrapped her green scarf around her dreadlocks, put two apples, a lump of cheddar cheese, The Accidental Tourist and The Postman in her bag, and headed to the Jamaica-Van Wyck station.

The 45-minute ride to and from the Triplex let her read without distraction. It was one of her favorite times of day. Work was a favorite time of day too. Time with her family was a favorite, and she also loved sleeping. Shopping wasn’t a favorite, but she didn’t shop much. She was lucky that way.

She was on the last chapter of Anne Tyler’s book when she walked into the 23rd Street Triplex fifteen minutes early for her shift.

The theater had history on its side. Its three screening rooms had been on the north side of the street between 8th and 9th Avenues for 15 years before Lowe’s invaded the neighborhood with its modern four-story theater on the south side of 23rd Street. Toulousa checked in with her boss Max Gambardella in the office behind the concession area. Max sat on the brown couch bought from a discount store on 14th Street, reading the New York Post. He sat behind the desk only when he ordered movies. Toulousa had figured out that Max did the same mix every week: one blood-and-guts picture, one kid’s film that showed in the afternoons, replaced by a chick-flick at night, and one big box office picture. Sometimes the big box office film was only medium-sized.

§§

MIKE LEVINE

The digital clock said it was 3:47. Mike Levine commanded himself to fall asleep, immediately, now, without delay, promising himself the nightmare wouldn’t come back. The command didn’t work.

He refused to close his eyes because behind the eyelids, Nicky was screaming. Mike had his hands on his friend’s his neck, and blood gushed out from between his fingers.

He knew when he woke up, it wouldn’t be Nicky screaming, but himself, and Joanie would be shaking him, ordering him to move to the living room couch so she could get some sleep.

But Joanie wasn’t in bed with him. She had delivered the divorce papers to him at work at Liberty Tax ten months ago. “Don’t bother coming home,” she had said. “I changed the locks on the apartment door, and the doormen know you’re not to enter the building.”

Nicky had lived in Mike’s dreams for 30 years, eclipsing all other people and events including his divorce, so he stayed awake as usual.

§§

CAROLYN DUFFY

Pete Turnbull smiled as he tore a customer’s ticket at the theater entrance. He stood up straight and felt important in his Triplex uniform.

When the lobby was clear, Pete swaggered to the concession counter and held out his plastic bag to be refilled with popcorn. He made minimum wage, like Toulousa, and he liked the free food.

Toulousa took the bag and said, “You need Black Luster. It covers pimples better than whatever you’re using.”

He pretended to ignore what she said, but he filed the brand name in his memory. “Have you seen Hunt for Red October yet?” he asked.

Toulousa held up the cover of Jumanji for him to see and said, “I read. You should too.”

“I read textbooks,” he said, cramming a handful of popcorn in his mouth.

“They don’t count as books.”

“What do you mean? They’ve got words,” Pete said, grinning.

“Okay, you convinced me,” Toulousa joked back, showing her big teeth. “And you read the credits at the end of movies too, right?”

“Movies are better than books,” Pete answered.

Twirling around on her highchair to face the lobby from the ticket booth, Carolyn asked, “How many times have you seen Pet Sematary?”

The kid scratched his head, thinking. “Three or four times. ‘Course I’ve never seen the start or end.” It was true. He always left films in time to tear tickets for the next showing. “I gotta do my job if I wanna keep it.”

Toulousa shook her head and went back to her book. Pete carried his popcorn to the ticket booth curtain to share his guess about the end of Born on the 4th of July with Carolyn. “I bet everybody forgives Tom Cruise and he becomes famous, maybe even he gets elected to Congress. I mean, after all, it’s Tom Cruise. He’s a star, so it’ll end happy.” He liked how Carolyn listened to his opinions.

Carolyn liked listening. She’d sold tickets at the Triplex for almost ten years. Two years ago, Max put her in charge of the nightly, weekly, and monthly financial tallies for the theater. She’d been listening to Pete since Max hired him ten months back.

Pete took off the jacket of his uniform and went to theater #2 to open the doors around the time the credits were rolling for Pet Sematary.

Carolyn said in a stage whisper, “Pete’s nice.”

Toulousa held her place on the page with a finger and repeated, “Nice. What do you mean ‘nice’?”

Carolyn shrugged and looked over her shoulder to make sure no one was waiting for a ticket.

Toulousa turned down the page of Jumanji. “He’s a boy, Carolyn. You know that, right?”

Carolyn was not a girl. She was a few years past 30, and she lived with her mother. She was not experienced in the romantic world, but she wasn’t a virgin. Nine years back, on a rainy November night, she’d been walking home after her shift at the Triplex, when a soldier in a fatigue uniform wandered up to her, stinking of whiskey, and slugged her jaw with his fist. He held her up, half-conscious against him, and banged her fast and hard. It didn’t matter that her coat hid her pants pushed down below her knees because nobody walked by.

After he dropped her to the cold cement of the sidewalk and disappeared, Carolyn stumbled to the door of her apartment building on 22nd Street and leaned against the bell. Her mother buzzed her in, and when Carolyn collapsed inside the apartment, Lydia said, “Serves you right,” then disappeared into the kitchen.

After that night, Carolyn’s gentle character continued unchanged. She dressed like a big Easter Egg, wearing a different color of elastic-waistband slacks every day, with a white cotton blouse under her Triplex vest. Under the blouse were big soft breasts, like two award-winning bunnies, hanging down, big and comfortable.

Toulousa gave the ticket seller a once-over. Even from across the lobby, it was evident that Carolyn’s blond hair was clean and her pale blue eyes were bright. Her fingernails were clean too.

“You and me, we’re the same height,” Toulousa said.

A smile played at Carolyn’s mouth, and she nodded. “I’m 5’ 10”.”

Toulousa went on, “Pete’s about 5’7”. He probably weighs 130. He’s a dwarf compared to us.”

Carolyn’s eyes fluttered down to her lap, and her face muscles fell into a frown.

“But you’re right. Pete’s nice. He’s a nice guy.”

Something shifted in Carolyn when Toulousa agreed that Pete was nice.

After the final feature of the evening started, Toulousa counted the candy, cups, hotdogs, and money. Carolyn finished with her ticket count and went to the office for Max to check the tallies.

Toulousa was shining the glass counter tops when Carolyn passed by on her way out of the office, carrying her purse and coat. Pete leaned on the wall next to the men’s bathroom. He always stayed late till the three films ended and the theaters were clear, so he could lock up for Max.

“Have you watched this one?” he asked, pointing to theater # 2 where Pet Sematary was playing. He was holding a full bag of popcorn, and he wasn’t talking to Toulousa.

Carolyn shook her head No.

Pete said, “It’s good. I’m going in until Born on the 4th of July lets out at 11:45. You want to come sit next to me on the back row?” His eyes were sparkling and his eyebrows danced up and down.

Carolyn nodded. She was tired, and she didn’t want to watch a horror movie, but she wasn’t in the mood to go home either.

Toulousa recognized the signals of young seduction, but she kept her smile hidden while Carolyn followed the boy into the theater. She’d have a story to tell Mamie Bell when she got home.

§§

Carolyn sat down on the back row next to Pete and took off her shoes, leaning her head against the concrete wall behind them, hoping cockroaches didn’t crawl down her shirt collar.

The movie was full of blood and creatures. Teenagers filled the seats in the afternoon, but for the late-night show, only eight people sat in the dark theater.

Pete whispered, “We haven’t missed too much.” Without taking his eyes off the screen, he put a handful of popcorn in his mouth.

Carolyn closed her eyes, grateful to be in a cushioned chair with arms.

“I saw it again Tuesday night, right up to the end, so I can fill you in later about the first part,” Pete continued, leaning over to talk in her ear.

She liked the warm air she felt on her cheek from his mouth. She leaned toward the voice, her eyes still closed.

Pete flinched. “Jeez, Louis going in the woods gets me every time. You okay?” he asked, putting his hand on Carolyn’s knee.

Carolyn hadn’t seen a thing and wasn’t scared, but it seemed nice that he was concerned about her. Nice. Like Toulousa said. Nice. She rolled her head from the wall toward Pete’s shoulder and took a deep breath. He smelled like something familiar, like mint maybe. It was his hair grease, she decided. She put her nose behind his ear to get a better sniff.

“Scared, huh?” he asked, feeling Carolyn close. “Remember, Gage is just an actor. He doesn’t really die, and he doesn’t really come back.” He didn’t take his eyes away from the screen, but to protect her, he stretched his hand across both of Carolyn’s legs, holding her thighs close to his seat, to make her feel safe. “But he’s telling the truth about Jud’s wife.”

Carolyn’s eyes fluttered open for a split second, and she caught a glimpse of a kid munching on a corpse and decided to return to relaxing, with Pete’s hand rubbing her leg in an automatic motion while he watched the movie.

Pete’s attention shifted. He realized his hand was getting warm making bigger and bigger circles on Carolyn’s lap. He heard Carolyn’s breathing transform into a pant, quiet and moist, at his ear.

While Louis was carrying Rachel’s body to the burial ground, Pete and Carolyn both had their eyes closed. They weren’t listening to the on-screen screams in the dark theater.

Carolyn’s bottom lip held the edge of Pete’s ear against her top teeth. Pete shifted to pull her tongue into his mouth, and he shifted again. There, on the back row of the theater, Carolyn twitched and swayed in rhythm with the young man’s body until she felt electricity shoot from her legs to her abdomen. Pete collapsed.

They wheezed for a few minutes. Then Pete said, “Oh my god, is that the scene with Louis playing solitaire?” He twisted half-off Carolyn to see. “I’ve only got two minutes until the other show lets out.” He rolled into the seat next to Carolyn. Pete took hold of her hand, “That was great. I never knew it could be so great.”

He tucked his clothes back together, kissed her cheek, and left.

Carolyn told herself she should move, but before she could do anything, Pete came back with a roll of paper towels. Then he went to open the doors of theater #3, leaving her alone to clean herself up during the end of Pet Sematary.

She was ready when the lights came up after the credits rolled. Leaving the theater wearing her coat and carrying her bag, Carolyn took Pete’s hand for a half-minute. “I liked the movie,” she told him.

He winked at her and answered, “Maybe you wanna see it again sometime?”

By the end of the next week, they stopped using the back row. The couch in the office worked better, after Max left with the bank deposit. Pete winked at Carolyn before she went home every Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday, and Sunday.