CHAPTER TWO — THE ROOM ABOVE THE SCREEN

The manager at Larkin’s Grill was named June Navarro, and she could tell from Emily’s face that the envelope contained trouble.
She covered the rest of the shift without demanding a story.
“Come back tomorrow with your head where your feet are,” June said.
Emily promised she would and followed Adrian outside into the autumn rain.
She did not enter his car.
She asked him to meet her at a coffee shop two streets away, where the windows were bright and the tables crowded.
Adrian arrived carrying his father’s medical discharge instructions and a photograph of Thomas from twenty years earlier.
Emily recognized the younger man with the dark beard and heavy glasses.
In her memory, Thomas had always smelled of machine oil and peppermint gum.


He had let children watch film thread through a projector, provided they kept their hands away from its moving parts.
“You said your father was there yesterday,” Emily began.
“Yes.”
“The city doesn’t let people wander through condemned buildings.”
“He had permission to enter the lobby with a facilities officer.”
“But he went upstairs.”
“Yes.”
“And fell.”
Adrian shook his head.
“A step gave way under him.”
Emily watched a bus slide through a puddle outside.
“You should tell him the building isn’t worth another fall.”
“I have.”
“Then why bring me into it?”
Adrian drew a deep breath.
“Because the film he remembers isn’t what you think it is.”
Emily had believed for years that the lost reel showed neighbors raising money to save the Beacon.
According to Adrian,

the footage was a documentary made by young volunteers about the city’s plan to close three community spaces and move their programs into a private development.
The Beacon’s preservation fund was supposed to challenge that plan by demonstrating how much work ordinary people had put into the building.
Emily’s mother, Nora Carter, had managed cash donations during a neighborhood screening that doubled as a fundraiser.
By midnight, several envelopes of cash and checks had vanished.
The theater’s board president, Victor Madsen, had accused Nora of leaving with them.
Emily remembered Victor’s voice better than she remembered his face.
He had stood in the lobby under the red EXIT sign and told a roomful of donors that there was no honest explanation for the missing money.
Nora had offered to empty her bag in front of everyone.
Victor had ordered her to leave instead.
Two weeks later, the Beacon locked its doors.
“My father worked the booth,” Adrian said.
“He should have been able to say whether your mother went upstairs.”
“She didn’t,” Emily answered.
“I know that now.”
“How?”
“The original documentary had an ending that Victor never wanted people to watch.”
Emily leaned forward.
“What ending?”
“The volunteers had interviewed the people who actually controlled the preservation fund.”
“That’s not proof of theft.”
“No, but it explains why the film disappeared.”
Emily studied the photograph of the projection booth.
“You’re asking me to believe that seventeen years of silence can be fixed with a movie.”
“I’m asking you to see whether it exists.”
She pushed the photo back.
“Then why did your father carry my ticket?”
“He found it in the booth the night they cleared the audience.”
“And my note?”
“You taped it beside the second projector.”
Emily remembered being allowed to help mark the reel sequence after a volunteer editor changed the order.
The final reel was supposed to play first, followed by interviews from the neighborhood.
She had drawn six circles because there were six cans on the shelf.
“I wrote that because the first reel jammed,” she said.
“Exactly.”
“Then there’s nothing secret about it.”
Adrian nodded.
“That’s why my father says your memory matters more than his.”
Emily disliked the way he made her responsible for a memory she had spent years trying to leave behind.
She asked whether Victor Madsen was alive.
Adrian said Victor had retired from real estate and was now chairing the committee responsible for disposing of the Beacon building.
The name came with a new unpleasant weight.
“He gets to close it again?”
“The city appointed him because he was the last board president.”
Emily laughed once, without humor.
“That’s convenient.”
“He’s scheduled a private preview of the contents on Saturday.”
“A preview for whom?”
“Collectors and potential buyers.”
“Then someone might buy the reels before we even know what they show.”
Adrian nodded.
“My father asked me to warn you.”
Emily looked at the cardboard note and felt the old temptation to find a simple villain inside every terrible memory.
But Nora had always been careful with easy explanations.
Her mother had told her that accusations became dangerous when people repeated them without checking who benefited.
Emily put the ticket back into the yellow envelope.
“I want to speak to Thomas.”
“He asked for that too.”
“And I want to see the city notice myself.”
“Of course.”
“One more thing.”
Adrian looked up.
“I don’t want a public apology arranged for a camera.”
“Neither does he.”
“Good, because I want the truth before anybody starts congratulating themselves for telling it.”