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The night had started like this: Declan coming home from his mindless day job as a political intern after a ridiculous two hour commute. A newly licensed teen had caused a four lane traffic jam out of sheer idiocy, judging by the damage that had been done to the drivers side door. It was either that or an ill advised street race on a prominent road with a Honda Civic, of all choices. Declan felt approximately four hundred years old driving by the wreck, and possibly he felt like the smashed car door. By the time he arrived at the townhouse he could only think of Ronan somewhere, blasting off into the wind as this teen lost control, causing every 9 to 5 jobber in the nearest vicinity to have an insufferable commute home. Ronan and his miraculous dream car he inherited from his father, with an impossible serial number and an undying legacy of infinite speeding tickets. Ronan and his inability to think about the consequences before acting. Always living in the moment, effortlessly reaching out and grabbing whatever he wanted with his hands.
Declan parked his car, an undamaged -aside from Ronan's size 10 boot prints- inconspicuous and utterly indistinguishable Volvo. He loved his car. It was dependable, it was grey, and it had good mileage. It contained instruction manuals, insurance, and a disposable cell phone in the glove compartment. The cell phone rested on top of assorted brand stamped napkins Matthew had left behind from various takeout restaurants over the years. It was completely unremarkable to anyone but him.
He unlocked the front door and stepped inside his apartment, someone had hastily shoved a slip of paper under the door. He stilled immediately, stomach lurching in a fit of anxiety for a moment while he his eyes scanned for any sort of forced entry. He then frantically glanced around, locating the nearest weapon or blunt object he had hidden - the hall closet- before realizing it was simply a parking ticket. The ticket was made out to a name he didn’t recognize, but the scrawl on it was distinctly Jordans. Or at least, it appeared to be her writing. Declan had a hunch Jordan was a master forger in more ways then she had demonstrated for him. Maybe it was another person’s handwriting that she had been borrowing the entire time he’d known her. What was real anymore.
He turned the parking ticket over and on the back, drawn in sharpie, was a simple logo. The thick black lines formed a hand grasping a marionette firmly, strings attached to the word “midnight”, and underneath, an address he recognized as a Denny’s parking lot. He put the ticket in his wallet, forcing himself not to smile, although, no one was around to see it anyway. It's fine, he lied to himself, I can be casual, he tried, missing any sort of believability by a mile. What could possibly happen in a Denny’s parking lot at midnight, anyway. His night had improved.
Declan had a few hours to pass so he showered, reheated his meticulously planned meal prepared at the beginning of the week, and went to sit in the attic. Matthew had soccer practice after school and stopped in to briefly wash up before being picked up by his friends. They were all large, rowdy, and yelled things like It's yeet or be yeeted. Declan felt approximately four hundred years old for the second time in three hours.
It was a Friday, Matthew assured him they were only going to get pizza and then hangout. But he could only think about Matthew wandering off to the Great Falls again, this time where people would notice his abrupt absence both physically and mentally. His stomach immediately threatened to betray him as punishment for his worry. Declan furrowed his brow trying to take his mind off his brothers imminent and constant danger. He never managed to successfully do so, just placing the worry in a box in the back of his mind ready to be taken out at a moments notice. Between Matthew and Ronans track record, it was there constantly waiting, ready to present itself to torment Declan.
He ended up remembering the last time he had been up here. It was with Jordan. Declan had told himself not to think about that either, but his mind had only so many boxes apparently. He pulled out the parking ticket to look over it again, fingers tracing the drawn marionette. For a moment he understood Matthew being uncontrollably drawn to the rushing river all too well. Matthew never had an explanation for how he wound up there, his episodes were short lived, but frequent, his feet controlling his body without seemingly any input from his brain.
That was what it was like everytime Jordan had asked to meet up. Before he knew it, he was running to her side, eager to plunge face first into whatever she had planned for them. Every time they were together it felt like the dam he was trapped in cracked a little more, and any moment he would burst into the raging sea where he would be surrounded by her every movement. Everytime she tossed her head back in laughter she was a wave that he became trapped under. Everytime her eyes crinkled and her face lit up with interest at his boring art monologues, she was pulling him effortlessly in like the morning tide. He desperately wanted to be swept away by the undertow. To disappear into the depths of the deep dark ocean, becoming someone unknown, even to himself.
Declan made his way to the Denny’s at a quarter to twelve as it wasn’t far from the townhouse. When he arrived he didn’t see any sign of Jordan. He exited the Volvo and leaned against the hood, waiting. He caught his reflection in the diner window and wondered if she was going to paint him again. Unremarkable Liar in a Denny’s Parking Lot, he thought.
The lot was full of rowdy teens blasting different, yet equally whiny music from their cars. The cacophony of sounds overlapping each other made it hard to decipher any of the songs being played, instead they melded into one irritable melody. He wondered how many of them had caused four lane pile ups recently. Jordan pulled up right next to the Volvo after ten minutes had passed and rolled down the passenger door window. The teens audibly gawked at her arrival, clearly impressed with the Supra. He leaned on the door, peering in the window. It was dark inside, but her smile lit up the car. His night had once again improved.
“Really, Denny’s?” He said, gesturing with one arm to the restaurant, and then to the rowdy teens.
“Hey, I don’t judge your midnight meet up spots. Petrol stations are the best and worst place in the world to kill someone after it gets dark.” Jordan responded, grinning wickedly. He felt like he had just been set on fire with her expression alone.
“And should I address you as Godfather? I look forward to finding a horse in my bed tomorrow morning.”
“You should be so lucky. The Dark Lady isn’t third wheeling this time. Get in.”
He got in. Declan caught sight of her briefly from the interior lights before they dimmed. Jordan was wearing a black studded leather jacket, leather pants, and the million dollar smile she seemed to always bring out when he was around. Her eyes were sharp and steady and he could feel her looking into the empty parts of him. Declan wondered how Jordan was always so incredibly present, only drifting off to some uncharted territory during her short lived dream episodes. Idly, he wondered if he was experiencing an episode himself, or was it a long standing episode since the first time they had met. He was painfully aware that his desire for her was slowly spilling out of his firmly sealed box, and threatening to take over his every thought. He was going to drown in it soon, stuck in the middle of an ocean with no one around for miles. Maybe he liked it that way. Don't, he chided himself.
Declan still did not know their destination, but it was irrelevant. She could lead him down the River Styx, and he would be all too willing to hand over his gold coin. A soul eager to join the fires of Hell if it meant she was the one shepherding him there. She asked him about the last interesting thing he’d seen and he prattled on about how he saw a Dali at the Fairy Market when they had met. It lead to him rewatching a short called Destino that Dali had been involved with before his passing. It was a seven minute animated short film about Chronos and his tragic romance with a mortal woman. The story was told through interpretive dancing of the lovers through landscapes in Dali’s notable dreamlike surrealist style. Declan loved it, hated it, was entranced by it. He’d watched it countless times. He wished his dreams looked like a Dali painting. The only time he had experienced anything remotely similar was when the Dark Lady drowned him in her turquoise ocean.
“The film is pretty well known even though it was released in 2003, I’m sure you’ve heard about it. Do you find my endless chattering boring?” He questioned lamely.
“Despite what you might think, you’re only boring when you think I believe any of your lies. Has anyone told you you’re a bad liar?" She laughed.
“And despite what you think you’re only uninteresting when you're pretending to be someone else. Has anyone told you you’re a bad liar?" He responded by pulling the parking ticket out of his wallet, which was addressed to someone named “June”.
“Not even once,” She laughed.
Jordan pulled into a dusty lot with a few other cars. The neon sign outside the lot lit up the words “Midnight Drive-In”, and it was flickering pathetically. Declan had never been to this particular drive in, but he had been to one with Aurora and his brothers near Singers Falls once. Matthew had begged them to go to one, seeing a commercial or ad somewhere, only to promptly fall asleep three minutes into the film. The film itself was Pygmalion, which they had all already seen on multiple occasions, back when they still didn’t understand Aurora’s fascination with it. Ronan watched rapt with attention for a couple of minutes before becoming bored and pulling out one of Niall’s dream gifts, a complicated diamond shaped Rubix Cube with strange symbols instead of colors. Declan had sat there watching Ronan out of the corner of his eye, longing to touch the dream object himself, to figure it out, but pretended to pay attention to the movie. It had been one of the few good memories he still had, despite Ronan spilling Sprite all over his pants moments later in what he claimed was an accident.
The lot had an entry fee which was paid by the wave of Jordan's hand to a presumably familiar face in an old booth. The worker wordlessly lifted the car bar with the press of a button and let them through. There was a sign just past the booth that advertised new film releases, and then listed The Godfather Marathon at the very bottom with the screen number beside it. He had seen the Godfather movies once, mainly just to keep up with older bosses and employers unamusing references to the series. Declan felt he’d had enough of his own familial endorsed criminal activity for a lifetime, and as such had never particularly enjoyed watching it play out on screen to someone else. He had a strong disdain for the Godfather, Don Corleone himself, but then again, he’d sometimes felt he had lived with an equivalent.
They pulled into screen three, the lot was empty besides them, customers choosing to watch the latest superhero flick or action movie instead. Jordan parked, and exited the car, moving to sit on the front hood. She leaned back slightly on her hands, crossed her legs and looked over her shoulder towards Declan who started to follow suit.
“Wait, grab the candy I stashed in the glove box before you come up would you,” She told him lazily.
Declan had already stepped out of the car but the window was still rolled down. He leaned through it to rifle through the glove compartment which was jam packed. He spotted yellow packaging stuffed between a bunch of loose papers, a deck of cards, three mismatched lighters, a crumpled package of off brand cigarettes, a cracked Fleetwood Mac CD, and 4 drivers licenses, none of which bore faces that belonged even remotely to Jordan. Pencils and markers of various sizes were sticking between the contents and threatened to come tumbling out at the removal of any object. He carefully extracted the candy and in doing so unwittingly caused a novelty keychain with the name Jordan printed on it to fall into his hand. He carefully placed it back into the box, lest the rest of the contents spill out. The candy in question was a bag of M&Ms, specifically the ones with peanuts encased in the center. He shut the box, and handed them over as he sat on the hood beside her.
“They’re not original M&M’s, but they’re the best ones,” She mused as she opened the bag and ate a few before offering him some. He politely declined.
The parking lot lights around them went out and they sat in silence and complete darkness for a moment before the screen lit up and the movie began. Whoever was setting up the film stood in the way of the projector for several moments while the intro played, to give them the full drive-in experience, he thought.
Declan remembered the intro to the movie well, being one of the most often referenced parts of the entire movie, it was hard to forget. Suddenly, Jordan promptly impersonated the Godfather, looking directly at Declan while doing so. “You come into my house on the day my daughter is to be married, and you ask me to do murder, for money.” She recited, trying her best not to laugh through it.
Declan smiled into his fist to mask his laugh, but it was clear she had won him over. It was also clear that she had seen this film more than once to recite it word for word. For a moment he considered her intentions if that were the case, but then again, Jordan was a master forger, she could have just come prepared. He was dying to figure her out. It seemed she had already known how to make him tick without even trying, he didn’t think that was fair. He was an impenetrable fortress, and she just waltzed right in like the door was simply unlocked, taking classified information without even having to ask. How many times had he genuinely laughed in her presence without realizing. He forgot what it was like to enjoy himself with someone who wasn’t his brothers, and even then, those moments were usually accompanied by antacids. Happiness was an increasingly uneventful subject for him as the years passed, but now he found it was hitting him like a train.
They fell into silence after the scene passed and watched the people on the screen celebrate a wedding. Family members of the bride were dancing around merrily, and perhaps, naively, celebrating without knowing someone had just hired the father of the bride to carry out a hit. Blissfully and intentionally unaware of the lies, crimes, and murder the father orchestrated within the vicinity of his children.
Declan remembered the wedding portrait of Aurora and Niall, which was still in their bedroom at the Barns where Ronan had not taken it down. He wondered what their wedding day had been like. Aurora of course described it when asked, “Quaint, but magical, and completely romantic.” Niall had never been around when the question was posed but they wore matching wedding rings, and there were photos, though none including other people. What memories of the day were real or were a dream, were getting harder and harder to differentiate with every passing day. Declan thought of the memories Aurora had told them in passing now as beautiful, but impossible truths that you couldn’t look away from. The only remaining witnesses to the occasion were long gone anyhow. He turned his head to the left and looked at Jordan, relaxed, and mindlessly chewing on the M&M’s he had retrieved earlier. He stared for sometime without her noticing, before reluctantly turning back to the screen, but not before casually slipping his fingers through hers, which were resting between them. He committed her touch and profile to his memory.
She squeezed his hand in return a moment later and said “It’s a good thing your hand is not as sweaty as Mr. Brasi over there.” Declan turned his head slightly to laugh gently into his shoulder at her frankness. He knew she would see it and did it anyway, he couldn’t get away with anything around her. He was starting to realize it was pointless to try.
Sometime later in the movie a wedding singer had shown up and started serenading the crowd and bride with lines like, “You are the one dream I pray comes true”. Still holding her hand, Declan felt Jordan twitch. It was the briefest of moments, he wasn’t sure she was even aware she was doing it, before she relaxed back into indifference.
Declan glanced at her out of the side of his eye while pretending to watch the movie. The light reflected off her, and she was electric in the night, where she always seemed to come alive. Where they were joined at the hand, Declan felt her pulse, a current passing through her to him. When a tree is hit by lightning, the inside liquids turn to gas and the tree will either explode or burn from the inside out. In this moment, Declan felt he was the latter. On the outside he was a tree struck by a destructive force of nature. He appeared completely normal aside from the giant crack in his mask, revealing a blazing fire with flames licking every part of his insides, threatening to devour him whole. He was being held together by sheer willpower, and his exterior was deteriorating at an alarming rate. He did not know how long he could keep his walls up before disintegrating entirely. Some of the trees affected by this natural phenomenon could be saved, but he fanned the flames and let himself be consumed. He could not remember the last time someone had been genuinely interested in the parts of him he usually kept hidden from the world.
“Hey, what are you thinking so hard about when we’ve still got 2 and a half hours of movie left, the party hasn’t even started yet.”
He snapped back to reality at her words and noticed he’d been caught staring at her, for how long, he was not sure. In the elapsed time, Jordan had turned her body completely to the side so she was facing him cross legged . Declan thought about lying to her, reciting some thinly veiled factoid about the movie, making an art reference or anecdote to perhaps distract her from the truth. Instead he just reached over with his free hand and softly touched her neck before leaning in slowly towards her. He couldn’t remember the last time he kissed someone for more than just a need to fulfill physical desire. He’d thought about kissing her for days now, wondering how her smile tasted every time she lit up the room with it. It tasted like a miracle.
The moment lasted for a minute before Declan could feel her smile into it, dissolving the kiss into laughter. Faces still pressed together he returned the smile and asked, “What’s so funny?” before gently kissing her again.
He then moved his lips to the corner of her mouth, his right hand had casually reached for her waist. She leaned back onto the windshield as he pressed forward. He crawled over her, positioning his body so they were chest to chest, his hands now on her waist and stroking her cheek respectively. It wasn’t the best position but he didn’t relent his kissing, now at her jaw, slowly moving down to her neck where her tattoos sat.
Jordan laughed gently again, before finally replying, “Nothing, I just think you’re cute.”
Mouth at her throat, Declan paused his descent respond, “I was actually thinking about how your candy tasted.”
“What’s your verdict?” She threaded one of her hands through his neatly curled hair, making a mess of it. Her other hand snaked under his shirt to touch his chest. The motion had become a recurring theme with her, one that he hoped would happen more often.
“Better than I expected for being locked up in a Supra’s glove compartment.”
She laughed again before pulling him towards her and capturing his lips.
Don Corleone went ignored in the background, Declan owed him nothing, least of all, his attention.