21. Clarry

CLARRY

That night, I fell into the deepest, most blissful sleep I'd ever known.

River had kissed me, and I'd kissed him back.

He'd seen me naked and taken me into his arms.

He'd opened his heart to me.

He'd poured out its broken contents.

And he was mine to help piece back together.

That night I dreamt that I was in the ice cream parlor, concocting a new flavor that would be my most exciting, enticing creation yet. I poured choc chips and pecans and honeycomb and salted caramel pieces into a bowl of cream and sugar and set it spinning on my mixer.

With a wooden spoon I began to fold the ingredients together… lightly, delicately… creating air and body until—

The lights dimmed.

I saw nothing but the bowl spinning in front of me.

And somewhere in my dream, the Righteous Brothers began singing "Unchained Melody" from the movie Ghost .

From my right side, River's strong hand appeared, running its way down my forearm to grip the wooden spoon and take control .

From my left side, his other hand appeared, reaching down to my hand and taking it in his.

Over my shoulder, his face appeared.

His lips kissed my neck.

His chest pressed against my back.

His right hand took the spoon from mine, tossed it aside, and before I knew it he had plunged our fingers into the sugary, creamy, yumminess inside the bowl.

Together we molded it like clay, letting it spin and swirl and twirl in our hands.

He lifted one of my hands from the bowl and licked the cream off my slick, sweet finger.

He nibbled my earlobe.

He breathed into my ear—"I love you. I will always love you."

"Oh River!" I shuddered, ready to melt into his arms. "I love you too!"

"Clarry!" called his voice.

"River!" I cried back.

"Clarry!" called the voice again.

"River! I'm here!" I shrieked.

"Clarry! It's not River! It's me, Harry!"

The knock-knock-knock on the door downstairs yanked me out of my sleep.

The bright sunlight pouring in through the curtains blinded me.

The sound of the voice at the door downstairs brought me back down to reality. "Clarry! Are you in there? It's me, Harry."

I glanced over at the clock beside the bed. It was almost half past ten. I jumped up, wrapped my robe around me and scrambled down the stairs.

When I opened the door, Harry was standing outside with his fire hat on his head.

The moment I saw it I panicked. "Oh, my golly! Is there a fire? What should I bring? Water. Buckets of water. I'll start filling them now."

I turned to find some buckets, but Harry grabbed me by the back of the robe. "No, Clarry! There's no fire, and even if there was that's what the fire truck is for. Haven't you listened to anything in our meetings?"

"I try," I said, bowing my head a little guiltily. "But you know me, I'm always off dreaming about something else. Although I have managed to retain Aunt Bea's description on how to clean a fire pole with disturbing clarity. Oddly enough."

"Well, the good news is there's no fire to put out and the pole is still shiny as ever." He grimaced and added, "The bad news is, the fire audit on the Ritz has come back and it's not good."

My heart sank. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, we're going to need to give Mavis a notice to cease operating immediately."

I gasped.

"Worse still," Harry added. "The authorities have signed an order to have the entire building demolished."

"No! No, no, no, no, no! This can't happen."

Harry sighed regretfully. "I'm afraid it can happen. And it will happen. And I think I'm gonna need you there to help me deliver the blow to Mavis."

"Oh no."

And just like that, the wind that blew the door open for River to enter…

Slammed a window shut on my precious Mavis.

"What do you mean, not up to code?" asked Mavis, confused. "What code is this? Morse code? A dress code? I'm not following you, my dear Harry." She looked to me for further explanation. "Clarence, what's he talking about?"

We were standing in front of the theater. I reached for her hand, her normally dazzling rings less shiny in the dull light of the overcast morning. "Mavis, it's not good news. The authorities have issued an order to close down the Ritz. They say it's not safe."

"Not safe? Oh nonsense, she's practically as new as the day of her grand opening. I'll never forget Clark Gable visiting little old Mulligan's Mill, just so he could walk the red carpet and cut the ribbon. You remember that day, Clarence?"

"I think that was before my time."

"Well, it seems like yesterday to me. And the Ritz hasn't changed one bit. Admittedly there's a little wear and tear, but that's to be expected. We can fix her up in no time. We'll give her a lick of paint here and change a lightbulb there and violà , she'll be good as new."

"Mavis, I'm afraid there's no amount of repairs that will bring the Ritz back to her original state," said Harry. He indicated to the report in his hands.

"What's that, dear? Is it a screenplay you'd like me to look at? I believe I still have Alfred Hitchcock's number somewhere."

"Mavis, this is the report detailing all the building's defects and hazards," Harry said. "This isn't something we can fix with some paint and lightbulbs. This isn't something we can fix at all. Mavis, they're not simply ordering us to shut down the Ritz. They're going to schedule it for demolition."

Mavis gasped. "Demolition? Clarence, what does this mean?"

I tried to think of the gentlest way to explain it. "Well, remember those thirteen bridges from Brussels to Berlin?"

This time her hand clutched her necklace. "You mean, you're going to blow up my theater?"

"Actually, it'll probably be bulldozers and a wrecking ball that do the job," Harry said. He saw the horror on Mavis's face and realized how blunt that sounded. "Don't get me wrong, I'm sure they'll do a very delicate job of it."

"It doesn't exactly sound delicate. Knocking her down with a bulldozer sounds positively barbaric. If I'm honest, I'd prefer it if she went out with a bang."

"You don't have to be here to watch it happen," said Harry. "And you'll have plenty of time to remove any keepsakes, although we'll need to do it under strict supervision. Theoretically we're supposed to close the doors and not allow any unauthorized access effective immediately."

"Are you telling me that I can't even spend some quiet time in my own theater before the curtain comes down forever?"

"I'm afraid so," said Harry. "Now if you'll both excuse me, I need to countersign this report and get a timeline in place for the…"

Mavis held her hand out to stop him. "Please don't say the word ‘demolition' again."

"What would you like us to call it?" I asked, my heart swollen with sadness.

Mavis gazed fondly upon her beloved theater. "Let us call it, her final bow. I suppose everyone must take one someday. Even the Ritz."

As Harry headed off, I felt the need to give Mavis a hug. She was such a strong woman, so full of life, and yet she felt frail in my arms that morning. "Are you going to be okay?"

She pulled out of the embrace and placed a hand against my cheek. "Yes, my darling Clarence. Thank you, but you need not worry about me. I've had more comebacks than Sinatra, I'll come back from this too. And I fully intend to sneak inside my theater and spend some time strolling down memory lane before they take her from me. Promise you won't tell Harry. I know he means well, but some rules in life were meant to be broken. Time to face the music and dance. "

The spring returned to her step as Mavis turned and waltzed into the theater foyer.

Through the art deco glass panels in the entrance doors, I saw her put a record on the gramophone, and a moment later she was in a world of her own, prancing and pirouetting across the foyer as Frank Sinatra crooned "Let's Face the Music and Dance."

It may have been curtains for the Ritz, but something inside told me Mavis Morningstar might just live forever.