Chapter 005

Chapter 5

     “I knew there was a reason that I kept you,” Kat said, picking up her plate and Doug's from the coffee table.

     “So I guess I pass Leftover Meatloaf 101?”

     “You get an A+”

     “Thanks Teach,” he said, “are we going to church in the morning?” he asked while picking up the remote and surfing through the channels. She pondered his question while she finished clearing the coffee table and started to wash the dinner dishes.

     “I don't think so,” she finally yelled over the running water, “I don't have any autumn church clothes here. All my church clothes here are summer clothes.” The faucet was off and Kat was now in the doorway between the two rooms. “You'd have to drive me over to my place and wait for me to get changed and made up, then we'd have to drive back over to this side of town for church. Are you okay with missing service tomorrow?”

     “I think God'll forgive us this one time. But I do think it's time to think about us getting married. We need to combine our expenses our lives, and our stuff. It'll be so much more practical. Besides, people are going to start talking down at the school. The history teacher leaving the old man's house every Saturday morning.”

     “That's global studies teacher.”

     “Whatever, disregarding the semantics … when are you going to give in?”

     She used her dish washing task as an excuse to retreat to the kitchen, but her attempt to escape the discussion was futile. Doug got up from the sofa and moved into the same doorway that she just vacated. Now her only means of physical escape was out the back door, and she was barefoot. Perhaps a verbal extraction.

     “Oh God! Not this again.”

     “You know, I'm developing a complex. How long do we have to be together before you can trust us?”

     “We've been through this a thousand times Doug, you know I love you and I trust you. It's marriage that I don't trust. Marriage changes people.”

     “We've been together for fourteen years, I'm retired and you should be. If we haven't changed yet, I don't think we're going to change.”

     “Really? I get both barrels tonight, marry me and you ought to retire?”

     “Well you always say you want to travel, to see the country. Working sort of pushes against that. And ... if we were married, we could combine enough expenses to save up a bunch of cash for traveling.”

     She inhaled deeply and wiped her forehead with the back of her wrist.

     “Can we talk about this later? This dish water is getting cold. Why don't you find us something to watch on TV.”

     He shook his head in exasperation.

     “Okay, but we're going to talk about this. This isn't over.”

     “I know, I know. It's not over, it's never over,” she said, trying to suppress a smirk.

     Doug went back in the living room and picked up the remote control and started to sit down when it caught his eye. There, by the door where he'd put it down the night before, was the box containing the vintage movie equipment. When Kat finished the dishes and returned from the kitchen, she knew immediately that she had made a huge tactical error. When she came in earlier, she'd noticed that box and the little voice in the back of her head told her to get it out of Doug's sight. But she didn't. She was tired from working at her mother's house all day and told herself she'd move it later … before it got Doug's attention. She was now too late. He had the projector set up on the coffee table and aimed at an empty area of wall and was affixing the film to the take up reel. Escape seemed impossible. Within the next hour, she would be getting the full Conspiracy Presentation. She tried to slide along the wall and slip into the hallway, but she was spotted when she was about halfway to safety.

     “Come on,” he said, patting the sofa next to himself, “sit down. Let's see what you looked like as a little girl.”

     “I don't think I'm on that one.”

     “Well come on. Hurry up and let me see what is on here.”

     “Alright. Let me go get changed into some sweats first, okay?”

     While she changed, she thought about sneaking out a window, but curse her luck, she'd left her car at home and rode to Doug's house with him. She heard the whir of the projector as she pulled her Sweatshirt over her head.

     “Come on honey, it's starting,” Doug called from the living room, then came the pause, and then … “holy crap, are you kidding me? You mean you knew what was on here and you let me wait to see it?”

     “What are you so worked up about?” she asked, brushing her hair as she walked into the living room, “you've already seen every photo and every piece of film from the Kennedy assassination at least a half dozen times each.”

     “Not this! Do you know what you have here?”

     “Yes, the beginnings of a headache.”

     “Where did this come from?”

     “I'm pretty sure my father took it. He used to work at the Terminal Annex building, the U.S. Postal Center. It's the building across the plaza from the Book Depository. Now can we talk about something else? I hate talking about that.”

     “No really,” he said, patting the sofa again, “this could be huge. Come on, sit down and look at this. How much of this have you seen?”

     “Only a few seconds, I turned it off after the limo made the turn onto Elm St.. I didn't really want to watch any of this again,” she sat beside him, “okay, so what's so different about this one?”

     “Well, for starters, millions of people have seen all of those other films and photos. You and I may be the only two people alive who have seen an of this film. Now come on, we may have something that will change history here.”

He rewound the film and started it again. They sat and watched in silence. Just before the limousine passed the Stemmons Freeway sign, the President reached up and clutched at his neck with both hands. Then something extraordinary happened, something that had never happened in any film footage Doug had ever seen before.

     “There!” he blurted out and rewinded, “watch up in that top left hand corner.”

Then he restarted the film. Kat watched the film and Doug watched her. The limousine moved down Elm St., President Kennedy clutched at his throat and the car passed the Stemmons Freeway sign. Kat leaned forward, and a small smile spread across Doug's lips. For the first time since they began seeing each other, Kat looked interested in this thing that was such a burning passion to him. Kennedy, still clutching his throat, leaned forward. Kate leaned forward and then her expression changed to one of revulsion. He knew by her expression that she was looking at the wrong part of the scene.

     “No, no, no. You're looking in the wrong place,” he said as he stopped and rewound the film, “you were watching President Kennedy, weren't you?”

     “Yeah, so?”

     “I told you to watch the upper, left corner. Now concentrate on the top left corner.” Kat rolled her eyes and Doug rewound the projector a bit, and started it again. “Watch,” he insisted.

     She waved her hand at him dismissively.

     “I am. Hush up!”

     Kennedy's car turned, he grabbed at his throat again, Kat leaned in, the President leaned forward, the car passed the sign.

     “Remember, top left.”

     Another dismissive wave.

     The car passed the sign and seconds later it happened. Kat's eyes narrowed and her mouth fell agape.

     “Rewind it. Play it again,” she said as if she were giving one of her students the directive.

     Doug did as he was told and they watched once more, together. He had the same self satisfied look on his his face that Henny Penny might have had if the sky had actually fallen. There, on film, was irrefutable proof of what so called 'conspiracy nuts' had been loudly insisting since only days after the assassination. They watched through the sparse leaves of the trees, as a man in a sport jacket stood behind the back fender of a white and blue station wagon, drew a bead on the motorcade and fired twice. One of those shots seemed clearly to have been the shot that tore off the right side of the President's head.

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[Riding the Rainbow]

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