Midnight Showing
Roxanne Evanston was in the process of taking her Halloween decorations down from the attic when her eyes fell on the suitcase sandwiched between a carton of Christmas ornaments and the electric fan that she placed in her bedroom window on hot summer nights. Seeing the pink, hard shell spinner bedecked with images of the Eiffel Tower saddened her. In March, she had brought it down to the bedroom and packed it in anticipation of a trip to Egypt.
She and Felix, her husband of forty-three years, were enjoying their retirement by seeing the world via a travel agency that offered economical group tours. Back in August of 2019, they booked a Nile River cruise that was scheduled to depart in March 2020. The day before they were to leave for Cairo, their flight was cancelled due to the COVID-19 pandemic.
Felix, as always, chose to look at the bright side.
"Just imagine how bad it would have been if we got to Egypt and then couldn't get a flight home. Or worse, what if we were out of the country and we caught the virus?"
"I suppose you're right," she said, still struggling with the disappointment of having to cancel her vacation plans. "If I'm going to get sick and possibly die, I want to do so in my own bed."
"Who said anything about dying? Despite being in our sixties, we're both pretty healthy."
In the following months, the Evanstons followed the guidelines set by the CDC. They remained at home, socially distancing themselves from the community. Every Tuesday morning, the former English teacher and her husband, a retired electrician, donned their masks and drove to town, marveling at the lack of traffic on the streets and the shortages at the grocery store.
"I've never seen anything like this!" Felix exclaimed. "There's not a single roll of toilet paper or paper towels on the shelf. And they're out of bleach and disinfectant, too."
"You should see the produce aisle," Roxanne added. "It's practically empty."
"I suppose until this is all over, we'll just have to improvise," he said, putting several boxes of facial tissues into the shopping cart.
"What are they for?"
"We may need them if we run out of toilet paper."
Over the next few months, as the confirmed cases rose to alarming numbers, the couple grew accustomed to their "new reality." With the exception of food, they ordered whatever they needed to buy online. And, like many other people across America, they binge-watched programs and movies on Netflix, Prime Video and other streaming services.
"You know what I miss most about life before COVID?" Roxanne asked as she sat down on the couch next to her husband so that they could share a bowl of microwaved popcorn as they began watching a ten-part Harlan Coben mystery.
"Our Nile River cruise?" her husband replied.
"Definitely that, but I was thinking of something else."
"Bingo night at the fire station?"
"No. I miss going out to eat and to the movies afterward. I read that several of the movie theaters might close permanently, and a few of the local restaurants have already gone out of business. Even the big chain places are being hit hard. The Ruby Tuesday across from the mall is gone and so is the Pizza Hut."
"Damn! What's the world going to be like when this is all over and done with?"
Despite the ongoing threat from COVID-19, the Evanstons made it through the summer of 2020. It was unlike any summer the aging couple had ever known. Even after the more severe restrictions were lifted and businesses began reopening, there were still rules about wearing masks and keeping six feet away from other people. Stores limited the number of shoppers allowed on the premises. Restaurants, most of which had been serving food via drive-in windows, curbside pickups and food delivery services, put picnic benches and tents outside their establishments, thus supplementing their indoor seating, which was reduced to twenty-five percent capacity.
Once September arrived, the upcoming elections dominated the news as the candidates battled for the swing states, one of which was Pennsylvania where the Evanstons lived. But now that October was upon them, there was a resurgence of the virus.
"I'm beginning to think this will never go away," Roxanne declared pessimistically.
"It will. Until then, we'll just have to take it day by day and hope for the best."
"That's what I've been doing for the past seven months."
"Try to take your mind off both the election and the virus. Think about the cruise we booked for the autumn of 2021. Aruba. The Cayman Islands. Curaçao."
"It will be just my luck that that trip gets cancelled, too."
"I doubt it. It's an entire year away. By that time, they'll have found a vaccine."
Don't be so sure of that, the former English teacher thought as she placed a ceramic haunted house on her fireplace mantel.
* * *
Autumn was always Roxanne's favorite time of year, and Halloween was her favorite holiday, just inching out Christmas in the rankings. This year, however, the pandemic, not content with taking away their Nile River cruise, day trips and evenings out, also put an end to most of the long-held October traditions she cherished.
"The hayride has been cancelled!" she exclaimed and tossed the local newspaper aside. "First the harvest festival and the corn maze, then the parade and costume contest, now this! What will they take away next, trick-or-treating?"
"I know how much you look forward to Halloween," Felix said, speaking as though he were the voice of reason, "but try to keep things in perspective. This is a horrible disease that's killed over a million people, and cases are on the rise again."
"I realize that, and I know how lucky we are that we've managed to avoid coming down with it. I'm just venting my frustrations."
"Maybe you're getting tired of being cooped up in the house with me every day."
Roxanne laughed at her husband's suggestion. He had always had the knack for cheering her up, even at the worst of times.
"Uh-oh! Do I detect a little fear in your voice?" she teased. "Are you afraid I'll suffer from cabin fever, turn into one of those killer women on the ID channel and murder you in your sleep?"
"The thought has crossed my mind."
"Have no fear of that! Without you, I'd go completely insane here by myself!"
As the days grew shorter with the season, Roxanne felt herself falling into a state of depression. She attributed her despondent mood to staying indoors and watching too much television.
I'm not getting enough fresh air and exercise, she concluded. I need to get those endorphins going in my brain.
It was time for an adjustment in her routine. Twice a day, after lunch and then again after dinner, she took a mile-long walk up the hill and back down. Thankfully, she lived in a rural area where social distancing was the norm and she did not have to wear a mask.
"We've got a new dog in the neighborhood," she announced when she came back from her afternoon constitutional. "It's a beagle named Zeus."
"Who are Zeus's owners?"
"A nice young couple. I see them out walking sometimes. I think they live on the next street."
Felix chuckled with amusement. His wife knew the name of nearly every dog within a mile radius of their home, yet knew little about their owners. It was not that she was unfriendly. She always waved and greeted neighbors with a smile and sometimes exchanged small talk with them, but she rarely formed close friendships with anyone. Other than a sister who lived in Florida, she was close to no one but her husband. That was why the two of them were inseparable, even before the pandemic forced them to remain in their home.
"We're out of popcorn," Felix called from the kitchen as his wife surfed the channels looking for something to watch.
"There are Wise potato chips in the pantry."
"Mmm! My favorite."
"After forty-three years of marriage, I know what you like."
"If that's so, why didn't you get any onion dip while you were at it?"
"Because there are too many calories in sour cream. You have to watch your weight if you want to remain healthy. At our age, we have to be careful. And while you're at it, go easy on those chips. Don't eat the whole bag. You have to watch your cholesterol."
"Nag, nag, nag," he teased, and took a sip of Diet Coke.
Moments later he began to cough.
"Are you all right?"
"Yeah," he managed to reply in the midst of the sudden coughing spell. "The soda ... went down ... the wrong way."
"Be careful. You don't want to choke to death. I'm not sure if I could successfully perform the Heimlich Maneuver on you. It's been quite a while since I had a first aid class."
"I'm fine."
After a few more coughs, he was able to breathe without difficulty.
"Why don't we watch something on Netflix?" Roxanne asked once she knew her husband was all right. "I'm sick and tired of all the mudslinging in these political commercials. Honestly! I can't wait for the election to be over."
As his wife perused the movies being offered for viewing, Felix picked up the local newspaper and thumbed through the community life section that appeared in the Sunday edition along with the circulars and coupons. In previous years, there would have been listings for rummage sales, craft fairs, fundraising dinners and bus trips to New York City.
"See anything good?"
"There's not much here. Ah, there's a virtual baking and cake decorating class being sponsored by Peggy's Bakery. That's about it—wait a minute! Here's something you might enjoy: a drive-in movie."
"You're kidding. I haven't been to a drive-in since we drove all the way to Matamoras to see The Sixth Sense. I thought they tore down all the drive-ins or converted them into flea markets."
"Apparently, the owners of the Mountainview Drive-in decided to repair the screen and show movies again—at least for now."
"What's playing?"
"A double feature. Halloween and Friday the 13th."
"Great! They finally reopen the drive-in, and they show forty-year-old movies that we've seen dozens of times already."
"But we've never seen them in a drive-in. That would be a different experience," Felix suggested.
"That's true. And we haven't done anything else this Halloween season," his wife said, warming up to the idea. "And since we'll be sitting in our own car, we won't need to wear masks. Let's go."
"Tickets are limited, so I'll order them online."
After a mini-marathon of an updated series of Unsolved Mysteries, Roxanne went into the kitchen to make dinner.
"Meatloaf or roast?" she called out to her husband.
"Neither. I'm not that hungry. Why don't you reheat that chicken and rice we had the other night?"
"You not hungry? That's a first. It must be that bag of chips you ate."
Felix ate only a quarter of what was on his plate before pushing it away.
"Is it cold?" his wife asked. "It's the microwave. Let me heat it up some more."
"No, it's fine. I'm full."
"No dessert? There are still a few of my homemade brownies."
"Maybe I'll have one tomorrow."
He went back to the living room after dinner, but Roxanne cleaned up the kitchen and then went for a walk. When she returned, her husband was dozing on the sofa.
He looks pale, she thought and put her hand on his forehead. But he doesn't seem to have a fever.
Felix woke nearly an hour later only to announce that he was going up to bed.
"Are you feeling okay?"
"I'm just tired. Besides, we're going to the drive-in tomorrow for a double feature, and I wouldn't want to fall asleep halfway through Friday the 13th."
"It's not as though you don't know the ending," she laughed and then gave him a goodnight kiss. "You go to bed. I'll see you in the morning."
* * *
Roxanne woke up on the couch after having fallen asleep watching television the night before. Her neck was stiff, and her lower back ached. She stumbled out to the kitchen and took two Tylenol with her cup of coffee. She looked at the clock above the kitchen table and was surprised that Felix was still asleep.
I hope he's okay, she thought.
She went to the hall and saw him at the top of the stairs.
"I was just coming up to check on you."
Never much of a morning person, he grunted an incomprehensible reply as he headed toward the bathroom.
"Want some eggs for breakfast?"
Another grunt that she interpreted as "no." She had his coffee waiting for him when he came downstairs. Next to his cup were the remaining brownies. His appetite still gone, he pushed them away. Roxanne noticed the move but did not comment on it. It being Saturday, she had a day of housework ahead of her.
Although Felix sometimes helped her by running the vacuum over the bedroom carpets or the mop over the hardwood floors in the living room, that morning he did neither. After leaving the kitchen, he sat in his recliner and closed his eyes.
"Are you feeling well enough to go to the movies tonight?" his wife asked. "We can stay home, if you want."
"No. I'm all right."
"Well, you take it easy today."
Even though there were only two of them in the house, it took several hours to do the laundry, wash the floors, clean the bathrooms, change the bed and dust all the furniture. By noon, she was finally done.
"Would you like a sandwich for lunch?" she asked her husband.
"Have we got any tuna?" he replied.
"I can make some."
As the two sat in the kitchen eating tomato soup and tuna sandwiches, Roxanne was relieved that her husband's appetite had returned.
"It looks like you're feeling better," she noted.
"I never felt ill to begin with. I was just tired. Maybe I should be like you and get some more fresh air and exercise."
Putting his words into action, Felix accompanied his wife on her after-lunch walk. The weather was warm for October, with temperatures in the low-sixties.
"Just think," Roxanne said as the couple lumbered up the hill, "next year this time, we'll be on a cruise ship in the Caribbean."
"And maybe the following year, there'll be another good deal on that trip to Egypt."
When they returned home, rather than spend another afternoon in front of the television, they played cards on the dining room table.
Even after forty-three years, the retired teacher thought, watching her husband discard a two of diamonds, he's still my best friend.
The sixty-seven-year-old woman decided to dress up for their first night out in more than seven months.
"How do I look?" she asked, modeling a new pink sweater over a pair of gray slacks.
"Every bit as beautiful as you did when I first met you."
"Since seating in the pub is limited, I made reservations."
"Good idea. They do get crowded on Saturday nights—at least they did before the pandemic."
They walked into the restaurant, wearing masks, and were shown to one of the tables that was not marked off with yellow tape. After they were seated, Roxanne gingerly removed her mask.
"I feel naked without it," she joked.
The people at the next table—the requisite six-foot distance away—looked at her and smiled nervously.
"Maybe they're afraid we're infected," she whispered to her husband.
When the server came to take their order, she kept her eyes on Roxanne.
"Two patty melts, one with French fries and the other with a tossed salad, and to drink, two waters with lemon."
"Did you want one of those patty melts to go?"
"No. We'll eat them here."
Although the lower part of the server's face was covered by her mask, Roxanne sensed the girl was not comfortable waiting on her.
Maybe I'm being overly sensitive, she thought. Or perhaps this pandemic is getting to everyone.
When the server placed the check on the table at the end of the meal, she asked if the customer wanted take-out boxes for the leftovers. It was only then that Roxanne noticed her husband had not touched his food.
"Are you feeling all right?" she asked.
"Who? Me?" the server inquired.
"No. I was talking to my husband. And, yes, we'd like a box to take his food home with us."
After paying the bill, the former teacher gathered her uneaten food and walked out to the parking lot.
"That was the rudest waitress I've ever seen. She seemed to make a point of ignoring you. I felt like walking out without leaving a tip, but I didn't."
"Don't let her behavior get to you," Felix said, dismissing the matter. "You know how teenagers are. Maybe she had a fight with her boyfriend."
The drive-in theater was only a short distance from the restaurant, and when Roxanne parked her Subaru Forester in the first row, near the speakers, she noticed they were the first to arrive.
"It's still light out," Felix said. "As it gets darker, no doubt more people will show up."
No sooner did the words leave his mouth than a Honda Accord pulled into a parking spot several rows behind them, followed shortly thereafter by a Toyota Matrix and a Ford Focus.
"I hope those speakers are loud enough so that we can hear the movies," Roxanne said, opening her window several inches. "I don't want to turn on the radio and risk draining the car battery."
To counteract the cold air blowing through the window, the couple put on winter hats and gloves and wrapped warm blankets around themselves. They had even brought hot cocoa in a large thermos.
"I feel like a kid again," Felix announced nostalgically. "My parents used to take us to the movies all the time when I was young. We would go early because the theater had a playground right beneath the screen. When it started to get dark, my mother would put my sister and me in our pajamas, and we'd sit in the third seat of my father's old station wagon. Nine times out of ten we'd be asleep by the end of the second movie."
"Maybe drive-ins will become popular again. If so, it will be one of the few good things to come out of this godawful pandemic."
By the time the sun set, there were more than three dozen cars scattered throughout the grounds of the drive-in. Just before the first movie was to begin, Roxanne made a quick trip to the restroom and stopped by the concession stand to buy Raisinets and Twizzlers for her and Felix. She had just opened her box of chocolate-covered raisins when the eerie theme song from Halloween came from the drive-in's speakers. The box was finished by the time Michael Myers strangled Annie in her car.
I'll keep the Twizzlers for the second feature, she thought and poured herself a cup of hot cocoa from the thermos.
After the first movie came to an end, there was an intermission. Roxanne, who drank two cups of hot cocoa, took the opportunity to run to the restroom again. As she made her way through the rows of parked cars, she was surprised to see that in an area that was normally rife with SUVs and pickups, there were few to be seen. Most of the vehicles were discontinued American-made models from the past.
There's a Ford Maverick. I haven't seen one of them in years.
She recognized the car immediately since she had learned how to drive on one. It belonged to her mother and was eventually passed down to her.
It's hard to tell in the dark, but it looks like the same shade of blue as mine was.
Several cars to the right of the Maverick was a Mustang II, the same year as the first car she ever bought. It was the second and last American car she ever owned. Her next car, and every one thereafter, had all been Subarus.
And there's an old Ford County Squire station wagon just like my father's! I never saw so many vintage vehicles in one place except at the auto show. These people must belong to a classic car club or something.
When she returned to her Forester, she was eager to tell Felix what she had seen. However, he was dozing off in the front passenger seat, and she did not want to wake him up.
I'll tell him later, she decided as she wrapped the blanket around her legs and reached for the bag of Twizzlers.
With her husband slept peacefully beside her, she watched the young counsellors at Camp Crystal Lake get slaughtered by the vengeful Mrs. Voorhees. By the time young Jason emerged from the water at the end of the movie, many of the other patrons had already gone. Roxanne's Forester was one of fewer than ten vehicles left. As the credits rolled on the screen, she looked over at her husband, who was still sound asleep.
I'm glad you enjoyed the movie, she thought with a smile.
Just as she was about to roll up the windows and start the engine, an announcement was made over the speakers.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the owners of the Mountainview Drive-in invite you to stay for our special midnight showing of Memories, a short film, shot right here in our town."
"Did you hear that?" Roxanne called to her husband. "It's a movie made right here."
The only reply from Felix was a grunt. Clearly, she was going to have difficulty waking him up when they got home.
"Well, you go ahead and sleep. I'm going to stay and watch it."
There were no actors and no dialogue. The movie consisted of a series of video clips, dating back to the mid-50s, spliced together to show the changes that had taken place in the community over the past sixty-five years. For Roxanne, it was like reliving much of her past.
The first scene was of her old grammar school, which had been torn down in the '80s when the town built the current elementary education center. The school was not the only structure to be trampled over by the march of progress. There were several mom-and-pop businesses that went under when the big-box stores arrived. Images of the old Lakeside Amusement Park, most of which had been destroyed by a devastating fire forty years earlier, brought tears to her eyes. It was where she and Felix had gone on their first date.
"You really should see this," she told him, but his soft snoring continued unabated.
The decades passed before her eyes: from the '50s, through the start of the new millennium, right up to the momentous year 2020.
"Oh, my god!" she exclaimed. "Look, Felix! That's our house!"
Before her startled eyes, the camera zoomed up to the front door and right into their home.
"How did they ...?"
The question died on Roxanne's lips as she watched herself walk into the kitchen from the living room. What she was seeing was a replay of the events that had occurred earlier that morning. She watched, fascinated, as the on-screen Roxanne Evanston took the bottle of Tylenol out of the cabinet, poured herself a cup of coffee and sat at the table, alone. Then there was a sudden chronological shift, and the setting switched from the Evanston home to the pub where the couple had eaten dinner just hours before.
"That's me, but where are you?" she asked and turned to find the Subaru's passenger seat empty.
Assuming her husband had quietly woken up and gone to the restroom without her knowledge, she returned her attention to the screen. The movie version of the retired English teacher was sitting alone at the restaurant's table with two orders of patty melts and two glasses of water in front of her.
"But that's not how it happened!"
Another shift in time and place. Roxanne was back in the kitchen that morning, wondering why her husband had overslept. She watched herself climb up the stairs to the second-floor master bedroom to check on him. As the on-screen doppelgänger reached for the doorknob, a sense of dread came over the woman sitting in the driver's seat of the Forester.
"No!" she cried as she lowered her head and frantically turned the key in the ignition. "I want to go home. I don't want to see this part!"
The engine refused to start.
"None of this is true. I must be dreaming."
Despite the fear that overwhelmed her, Roxanne was compelled to raise her head and watch the events unravel on the screen. She opened the door to the bedroom and found her husband lying on the bed.
"Felix, are you feeling all right? Do you want me to take you to the emergency room?"
There was no response. Her husband of forty-three years had died during the night, not of COVID-19 but of a heart attack.
* * *
Lois Grinley, who lived next door to the Evanstons, became worried when she noticed Roxanne had not taken her customary afternoon and evening walks for the past three days. Worried that one or both of her neighbors were sick, she telephoned the police.
"Something must be wrong," she insisted.
"There's probably nothing to worry about," the dispatcher said, "but I'll send someone over to check on them."
When the responding officer knocked on the front door, it opened.
"Do they normally leave the place unlocked when they go out, Mrs. Grinley?" he asked Lois.
"No. Never."
The policeman stepped inside and called out to the homeowners. When he received no reply, he began to search the house. Although he did not like to enter a private residence without permission, under the circumstances, he felt it was necessary. If one of the Evanstons was sick or injured, they might need immediate medical assistance."
"Mr. and Mrs. Evanston?" he called, as he went from room to room. "Is anyone home?"
"Did you find anything?" Lois asked from the doorway.
"No. Nothing out of order down here. I'll go check upstairs."
The police officer found Felix's body, but there was no sign of his wife.
"That poor woman!" the neighbor exclaimed. "She must be out of her mind with grief."
As the policeman waited for an ambulance to pick up the deceased, he radioed the dispatcher to advise his fellow officers to be on the lookout for the white Subaru Forester.
It was not until the following morning that Officer Audrey Bonnart reported the news.
"I found that Subaru," she told the dispatcher. "It's parked at the old drive-in movie theater. I don't know what it's doing here. The flea market is closed for the season."
The patrolwoman parked her vehicle near what had once been the theater's projection room before the drive-in closed in the late '90s. She got out of the car and proceeded toward the Subaru with caution.
"Is anyone inside the vehicle?" the dispatcher inquired.
"Negative. It appears as though some kids found the car and took it joyriding. There are candy wrappers and an empty thermos bottle on the front seat."
"No sign of the owner?"
"None."
"I'll send a tow truck to pick it up and take it to the impound lot."
"Roger."
As Officer Bonnart returned to her patrol car, she paid no attention to the few rotted, graffiti-covered boards that were all that remained of the Mountainview Drive-in's screen. Even if she had stopped to examine those ruins, the daylight sun would have prevented her from seeing the images projected on the jagged fragments of wood. Had she witnessed what appeared to be an 8mm home movie of two teenagers walking hand-in-hand at the Lakeside Amusement Park, she might have had some clue as to the whereabouts of Roxanne Evanston. But she didn't.
Thus, despite the exhaustive efforts of local and state police, the missing woman was never found. Unable to live without her husband of forty-three years, the retired English teacher disappeared into a world that had vanished long ago where she was able to relive her happiest memories for all eternity.
Like my main character, I missed all the Halloween activites this year. I did have the opportunity to go to a double feature at a drive-in movie though. It brought back a lot of memories. Also, I was to go on a Nile Cruise starting on March 13, 2020. I learned the evening before I was to leave that the trip was cancelled due to COVID.
Salem never appeared in John Carpenter's Halloween, but you might have seen him in Nightmare on Essex Street.
