Where Old Cars Are Parked
Where Old Cars are Parked and the Wind Keeps Whispering Your Name.
It was the last of a dying breed. Many would say the last of its kind. Yeah man, Litman’s Drive-In at the east end of town was finally, after all these years, closing down next month. Fifty years of 50 foot romance, knee slapping comedy; bad popcorn and worse back seat sex was finally coming to an end. Nobody really knew why, well except of course Charlie Litman, the place still packed it in every Saturday. Kids mostly with a few young couples fulfilling their once a month date night sprinkled in and tonight, on the last night the massive screen would ever beam back the faces of film fantasy, Marty and Tess sat in the back seat of their 68 Chevy, the one Marty had spent over 5 years restoring back to perfect condition, and on the eve of their fiftieth wedding anniversary, made out like two teenagers.
Well, maybe two very old teenagers anyway.
“Marty, Marty, lets watch the movie for a bit dear, my back is killing me, damn arthritis.” Tess said.
“That’s fine my peach, I think this Polident is loosing it’s grip, my chompers are sliding round in there like a size 8 foot in a size 12 shoe. Charlie laughed when he said it, he was always laughing at his own jokes.
He sat up stiffly and reached over to the silver speaker resting on the open windowed back seat door and turned the volume up full as the actors voices came into the car muffled and crackling.
“What’s the name of this thing?” Marty asked his bride of forty-nine years and three hundred sixty one days.
“Good grief, Blood Bat something or other.” She replied and leaned over into her husband’s flannel shirted chest, putting her hand into his without thought.
“Christ!” Charlie shook his head laughing and said, “Blood Bat, nice.. nice, I see the golden statues lining up already.”
“I don’t know honey; I think the writing’s very good, very… multi-layed.”
They eased into each other with the easy love of ages and stroked each others hair, hands and arms. Lightly, with the true affection of one heart shared, both remembering in different ways, the same things.
Marty whispered coyly into her ear, “Remember that first time we…”
“Of course I do my loving man.” Tess softly said with a smile deeper than oceans.
“And remember; remember my peach when we came here with Albert and Lois and…” Marty said with all the happy memories projecting off his eyes.
“Oh Marty, oh my- oh my,” Tess giggled back, “that was so much fun, I miss them so.”
“Yeah, wish they could be there tomorrow, Al said poor Lois just can’t make a trip right now.” Marty said sadly.
They sat in silence then, holding each other, staring at a movie they couldn’t hear and didn’t even want to. They didn’t need to, they were too busy watching fifty years of movies and that was good and right. After a time Marty looked at his bride, it was always the same look and it still always made Tess feel like she was floating; floating on clouds of soft petals with him and him alone.
“You’re my hero.” She said as a small tear dropped from her eye.
“You’re my everything.” He said and took her face in his hands, kissed her softly for a good lone time and then pulled away just far enough to speak.
“Fifty more years my beautiful garden.” Marty said with pride.
Tess was crying now and with wet cheeks and full heart took her husbands face in her hands,
“Fifty more years my love.”
