Saturdays with Hitchcock

  “I can’t believe you came up with this whole scheme without even talking to me about it,” Mom says. Her voice is shaky. “Do you really want to do this now, Hank? When my mother is so…compromised?”

  Grandma’s face tightens up. “Just because I can’t remember every silly little thing doesn’t mean my life is over,” she says. “I never forgot Hank, did I? For God’s sake, Cindy, the man moved back to New Aztec, Illinois, from New York City in the hopes that I was still available, and then I went and married somebody else. I think it’s time I finally made good on that kiss I gave him fifty years ago.”

  Mr. Schmitz moved back to New Aztec for Grandma! He gave up making movies for her. It blows my mind that he sacrificed one thing he loved for the possibility of another. And she married my grandpa instead! At least it’s working out in the end, but I wonder how long “the end” will last.

  Hank steps forward and lays a hand on Mom’s arm. “It’ll be good for all of us, Cindy. I love Evie. I love her with all my heart.”

  And then Mom starts to cry, and Grandma hugs her tight.

  Gary and I tiptoe back to our patio chairs, where our cereal has turned to milky mush.

  Cyrus comes running around the corner from his house, laptop in hand. “Did I miss anything?” he asks. I don’t even know where to start.

  We work on the script for the next week, either at my house or at Cy’s. It’s almost finished now, and we’re going through it to figure out how and where to shoot scenes. We’re sitting on the lawn in Gary’s backyard with Buffy, trying to figure out how to include her in the movie with the least amount of hassle, when Cyrus’s mom pulls up in her car.

  “Let’s go!” she yells out the window.

  “Oh, right. I have a dentist appointment,” Cy says. He gives Buffy’s belly a last scratch and heads for the car. “I’ll be back in an hour.”

  He’s gone so quickly, I feel dizzy. Gary and I glance at each other, and then we both start busily petting the dog as though we’re getting paid for it. Buffy is fast asleep and couldn’t care less.

  Gary clears his throat. “So, in that scene where we knock on the door of the girl we don’t like…what’s her name again?”

  “Kathy,” I say. I’ve been thinking I’ll ask Katherine to play this part—she’d be perfect.

  “Right, Kathy. We could film that at my house so it’s easy to have Buffy in it. She won’t be able to get out of the yard.”

  I nod. “That could work. But I think the scene where we’re running and chasing Buffy will have to be shot at my house because I have the biggest backyard.”

  “Okay,” he agrees.

  We both look down at Gary’s giant buffalo dog, who’s snoring and snuffling and whimpering all at the same time. I’m glad she’s so noisy—it fills in the silences when we can’t think of anything to say.

  “I don’t think we can count on Buffy to chase anything,” Gary says. “She’ll run if you don’t want her to, but I don’t think she’ll do it on command.”

  “She’ll run for treats,” I say.

  Gary laughs, but then there’s a silence that Buffy fills with a deep groan as she flops her gigantic body from one side to the other. I’m determined to keep talking because I know once there’s too much silence between us it will grow and spread like invisible kudzu until we’re strangled into complete speechlessness. “Um, the other thing we need to decide is what the ghosts look like. I’m thinking a little scary, but not like vampires or zombies.”

  “I guess we’ll wear white makeup,” Gary says.

  “With black around the eyes,” I add.

  “We should wear white clothes,” he says. “Not sheets, though—that’s stupid.”

  “Right,” I say. “No sheets. Maybe we can powder our hair white.”

  “And powder Buffy’s brown spots, so she’s all white too,” Gary adds.

  “Too bad she’s so big,” I say. “It would be easier to powder a Chihuahua.”

  He nods but has nothing more to add. As I’m stroking Buffy’s soft ears, I suddenly realize it’s happening. The swampy silence is beginning to seep in around us. At first I’m only a little panicked, because I’m sure Gary will come up with something else to say—he’s got to; it’s his turn. But he doesn’t. I’m a little sweaty now, and I search around for an obvious comment, something about the dog, about Katherine, about white faces…but nothing makes any sense. All the words in my brain have gone on strike.

  And then, just to make matters worse, Gary scoots over close to me on the grass so I can just barely feel the hairs on his arm brushing against the hairs on mine. I stare straight ahead, totally paralyzed. Not even a finger moves.

  “Maisie?” Gary says it so quietly I can hardly hear him, and still the word bounces off the walls of my skull. Why does my name sound so pretty when he says it?

  “Mmmm?” It’s not a word, but it’s the only noise I’m able to make.

  I can feel his hand cover my hand where it lies on the grass. “Would you be my girlfriend?” he whispers.

  How can your worst nightmare also be your wildest dream? I look down at our hands. His is a little bigger than mine and very warm. I like seeing them together like that, surrounded by a carpet of green grass and breezy dandelions. It would make a nice shot in a movie. Except it’s not a movie; it’s real life.

  “I can’t,” I say, my voice practically inaudible. “It’s not a good idea.”

  “Why not?” I can hear his disappointment. “I really like you, Maisie. I asked Cyrus, and he said the two of you were just friends, so he wouldn’t be jealous or anything.”

  Boy, is he wrong about that. I make a big mistake and look up into his eyes, which are dark and as deep as a river if you jumped into it from a high cliff.

  “Unless you don’t like me,” he says. “But I kind of think you do.”

  Of course I do, but that’s not the point. I don’t say that to him, though. What I do say is, “I like you as a friend, Gary. Can’t we just be that?”

  He doesn’t say anything for a long time, but our eyes are kind of stuck together, and I can’t stop myself from jumping off the cliff. Finally he says, “Is that really what you want?”

  And then he seems to be falling over, or I guess just leaning into me. I feel his hand brush up my arm until it grips my elbow and makes me quiver. He tilts his head to the side, and before I know it, his lips have fallen very softly against my lips. I just barely feel the thrill of it before he pulls away again. Wait…we kissed!

  “Was that okay?” Gary asks.

  I want to say, “It was great, but not quite long enough. Let’s try it again.” But of course I don’t say that. Imagine if Cyrus saw us kissing? Catastrophe. So instead I say, “I don’t think we should do that again.”

  I’m careful not to look at Gary while I tell this lie so I don’t get stuck in his eyes again. He takes his hand off my arm, but the ghost of his touch is still there.

  His mom bangs open the screen door, and we both jump. “Hey, you two. Aren’t you hot out there in the sun?” she says. “Come in and have something to drink.”

  I wonder if Gary is as glad as I am for the interruption. What can either of us say next? We trudge inside, and his mother pours us glasses of iced tea. “Why don’t you stay indoors for a while?” she says. “Watch a movie or something. Cool off.”

  Without a word I follow Gary into the TV room. His whole house is air-conditioned, and it’s so cool that I shiver.

  I try to scramble back to the time before the kiss, as if nothing has changed. “What should we watch? You know I’m not a Star Wars fan.” I give a weak smile in the general direction of his head, but I don’t see if he smiles back because I don’t want to focus on his face that much.

  “I know,” Gary says. “I checked out some movies from the library. Do you want to watch The Princess Bride?”

  “You checked out The Princess Bride?” I’m forced to look right at him to see if he’s kidding or not.

  He nods. “You
were right. It’s really good.”

  The fact that Gary not only got the DVD but watched it and liked it makes me wish even more that the kiss had been longer.

  He puts the movie on, and we take seats on opposite ends of the couch. Once again Inigo Montoya seeks revenge for his father’s death. Prince Humperdinck is still an evil liar. Miracle Max is as hilarious as ever. And Buttercup falls in love with Westley, as she must. I’ve seen it a dozen times, but this time, sitting on the couch with Gary Hackett, seems like the first time all over again.

  As much as I’m loving the movie, my brain is simultaneously repeating on a loop its own awesome film, entitled First Kiss. I can’t stop thinking about it. Kissing Gary was not at all like kissing my own hand and pretending it was someone’s lips, which I’ve only done once or twice, just to get an idea. Now I know what it really feels like. It’s hard to describe, even to myself. Weird. Nice. Scary. Grown-up.

  The movie is half over by the time Cy gets back. He looks a little surprised to see what we’re watching, but I can tell he’s glad we’re sitting far apart. He plops himself down between us, just where he’s supposed to be. I wonder if Gary will tell him what happened. I know I won’t.

  After the happy ending Cy says, “You know what this makes me think of? Your grandma and Mr. Schmitz. I mean, they’re obviously a lot older than Westley and Buttercup, but still. They were separated for all those years, and now they’re finally getting back together. It’s pretty cool.”

  I nod. “Mr. Schmitz acts different now too. I actually like him.”

  “I guess being in love changed him,” Gary says, his voice low and throaty. I can tell he’s looking at me, but I’m carefully memorizing the pattern on the carpet. I can’t believe he’s talking about love, as if it’s a normal topic of conversation. Even though I’ve watched people in movies fall in love a million times, to me love stories are as puzzling as murder mysteries. How does anybody have the guts to fall in love? Or to admit it to the other person?

  Cyrus is sitting forward and bouncing his knee up and down as if he’s nervous. I’m hoping he’ll say something to change the subject, but then I get a glimpse of the look on his face—pure fear—and I’m pretty sure I know what subject he’s about to bring up. I didn’t see it coming, and I panic. “Maybe we should—” I begin, but it’s too late. Cyrus has geared himself up, and he can’t stop now.

  “I have to tell you something, Gary,” he blurts out. “Maisie knows already, but if we’re friends, you should know too, so I’m just going to say it.”

  Why did I encourage him to do this? If Gary has a bad reaction, Cy could be really hurt!

  “Cy,” I say, “maybe this isn’t the best time to—”

  “Yeah, it is, Maze,” Cyrus says. “I’m tired of keeping it a secret.”

  Gary looks a little scared, and I don’t blame him. It sounds as if Cy’s about to tell him something terrifying. I kind of wish now that I’d told Gary myself, so he was prepared, and so he wouldn’t say anything awful to Cyrus. Because if he does, I won’t be able to like him anymore either.

  “What?” Gary says. “Just tell me.”

  I hold my breath as Cyrus stands up and paces from one side of the room to the other. Finally he stops and stares right at Gary. “I’m pretty sure…I’m gay,” he says.

  Gary doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, and then he shrugs. “Okay. I didn’t know. Thanks for telling me.”

  I breathe again. Pretty good so far.

  “You’re only the second person I’ve told,” Cy says.

  Gary nods. “You told Maisie.”

  “Yeah,” Cy says. “I mean, I just figured it out myself.”

  “Right,” Gary says. “I won’t say anything if you don’t want me to. I know people can be mean sometimes. I told you about my cousin Max, right? Some kids at his school were pretty awful to him when Max first came out, but his real friends were okay with it—most of them, anyway.”

  Cy seems to be breathing again too. “Yeah? I’m glad to hear that. And you still like him? Your cousin?”

  Gary gives a sharp laugh. “Of course I still like him.”

  “Cool. That’s really cool.”

  “It would be pretty crappy to stop liking somebody just because he was gay,” Gary says. “Did you think I wouldn’t want to be your friend anymore, Cy?”

  Cyrus doesn’t look at Gary. “I…I wasn’t sure.”

  “Well, you can be sure. It doesn’t matter to me. Okay?”

  “Okay,” Cy says, sneaking a quick peek at Gary’s face.

  I’m so happy about Gary’s response, I can’t stop smiling. He’s as nice a person as I thought he was. (Now if I could just ignore the part of my brain that’s screaming, And he wants me to be his girlfriend!)

  “Great,” I say, hoping Cy has revealed all he’s going to. “Now that the big secret’s out and we’re all cool with it, let’s get back to working on the script.”

  “Um, one more thing,” Cy says.

  He looks at me for encouragement, but after what happened this afternoon, I’m pretty sure the whole truth will only make all three of us feel terrible. I stare at Cy and hope he can read my face. Don’t do it. An hour and a half ago, I kissed Gary. I don’t think he’s going to fulfill Cy’s dreams and mine.

  But Gary’s looking at him, waiting for the one more thing.

  Cyrus turns from me to Gary, and for a minute I’m afraid he’s falling into those dark eyes just like I did. But finally Cy pulls his gaze away and flops into a chair as if he’s a stuffed toy, as if his muscles have turned to oatmeal and he can’t hold himself up anymore. Did he get my message? Or did he just get scared?

  “Um, maybe if your cousin comes to visit sometime, I could meet him,” Cy says quietly. “I don’t really know any other gay people. Kids, I mean.”

  “Good idea,” Gary says. “Max and his family usually come for a weekend during the summer. I’ll make sure you meet him.”

  Cy looks so small in that big chair, I want to go over and squash in beside him like we did when we were little kids. I want to tell him I love him, no matter what, but I know it’s not the same, and it won’t take away the ache he’s feeling.

  Cyrus forces the corners of his mouth to curl up slightly. “Is there any more of that iced tea in the fridge?” he asks.

  “Oh, sure,” Gary says. “I’ll get you some.”

  But Cy jumps up first and gallops out of the room. “Never mind. I can get it,” he calls back over his shoulder. I’m guessing there’s a tear he wants to let slide down his cheek unnoticed.

  After a few seconds Gary turns and looks down the couch to where I’m huddled in the opposite corner. He gives me a minuscule smile and says softly, “It’s me, isn’t it? That’s the other thing Cy was going to say.”

  I can’t tell him, of course, but I return his smile, and he nods.

  “Okay,” he says. “I get it now. Why you can’t be my girlfriend.”

  I clear my throat. “You know what? Sometime we should watch Blade Runner. I’d probably like it more the second time.”

  “Have you got the bone ready?” I yell.

  Cy is standing on the far side of my backyard. “Got it!” He waves the marrow-stuffed dog treat in the air.

  “Remember,” Gary says, “as soon as she gets to you, snap the leash back on her.”

  “I will,” Cy says.

  I get the camera positioned correctly on the tripod so it will catch Gary and me and Buffy (called Hildegarde in the movie) as we streak across the yard toward Cyrus. Later, I can edit out the part where Buffy gets her treat, so it looks like she’s just running loose. The late afternoon light is just as I imagined it—our shadows will race ahead of us like they’re ghosts too. I turn the camera on and run back to stand beside Gary, who’s holding on to Buffy/Hildegarde by the ruff of her neck.

  Cy and Gary and I have pretty much figured out how to be friends without feeling too weird about who likes who. After Cy told Gary he’s gay, Cy got me alone an
d thanked me for not becoming Gary’s girlfriend.

  “I know you like him a lot,” he said, “and I feel bad about that. But really, Maze, I don’t think I could be around the two of you if…”

  “If he was my boyfriend?”

  He nodded. “It would hurt too much.”

  “I know,” I said. “It’s okay. I don’t need a boyfriend. I’m twelve.”

  “I keep thinking maybe someday…I mean, you never know what might happen in the future, do you?” Cyrus looked hopeful.

  “That’s for sure,” I agreed. I guess Cy meant that maybe someday Gary would like him as more than a friend, but I was thinking that when we get older, Cyrus might find a different boy who’d love him back.

  Once in a while when the three of us are hanging out together, Cy gets a sorrowful look on his face, especially if Gary smiles at me. And sometimes when Gary and I look at each other, I wish I could have a second kiss, but then I remember that Mr. Schmitz eventually got his second dance with Grandma. I can wait. I just hope I don’t have to wait fifty years.

  “Action!” I yell.

  Cyrus waves Buffy’s bone in the air, and Gary lets her go. She takes off loping across the yard as planned, and Gary and I run after her, laughing madly because we’ve just scared the daylights out of someone (in a scene we haven’t shot yet, with an actor we still need to cast).

  “Who knew being a ghost would be so much fun!” I yell to Gary/Vincent.

  “Aren’t you glad Hildegarde was in the car when we died, Adeline?” Gary/Vincent says. “She’s the scariest one of us all!”

  I give my most evil laugh, and we run out of the frame. “Cut! We got it!” I yell, then turn to see Buffy leap for the bone in Cyrus’s hand and knock him over in her reckless rush to get it in her mouth.

  “Hey!” Cy yells. He grabs the white buffalo around the neck, but I can tell he’s having trouble getting the leash hooked on.

  “I can’t—” he says, and then Hildegarde is suddenly free. She dances around for a minute with the bone in her mouth and takes off running.