I Am the Messenger

"Well..." He trips about as he drives, and I see he deserves at least some form of an answer.

"She doesn't want to love you," I tell him. "She doesn't want to love anyone. She's had a rough life, Audrey. The only people she ever loved she hated." I get some flashbacks of when we were growing up. She was hurt a lot, and she vowed it wouldn't continue that way. She wouldn't let it.

The boyfriend says nothing. He's handsome, I decide. More handsome than me. He has soft eyes and a solid jaw. The whiskers on his face give him that male-model look.

We're silent till we pull up back at my place, and the boyfriend speaks again. He says, "She loves you, Ed...."

I look at him. "But she wants you."

And that's the problem.

"Here."

I pass him the money but he waves it away.

"On the house," he says, but I try again, and this time he takes it.

"Don't put it in the till," I suggest. "I think you've earned it for your own pocket today." We

share a moment before I get out.

"Nice talking to you," I say, and we shake hands. "Merry Christmas to you, Simon."

I guess he's Simon now, not the boyfriend.

Once inside, I sleep on the couch in my casual black suit and the ocean blue shirt.

Merry Christmas, Ed.

I work on Boxing Day and visit Bernie at the Bell Street Cinema the next day.

"Ed Kennedy!" he cries out when I get there. "Back for more, ay?"

"No," I tell him. "I need your help, Bernie."

Immediately he comes closer and asks, "What can I do for you?"

"Well, you know your movies, right?"

"Of course. You can watch anything you--"

"Shh--just tell me, Bernie. Tell me everything you know about these titles." I pull out the Ace of Hearts although I could easily recite them without it. "The Suitcase, Cat Ballou, and Roman Holiday."

Bernie clicks into business straightaway. "Roman Holiday I have, but the other two I don't." He inundates me with facts. "Roman Holiday is widely considered one of the best movies starring Gregory Peck, made in 1953 and directed by William Wyler, of Ben-Hur fame. It was filmed with breathtaking beauty in Rome and was famous for the glorious performance of Audrey Hepburn, who Peck insisted have equal billing. He claimed that if she didn't, he would be a laughingstock--such was the strength of her performance. This was backed up when she pocketed an Oscar for her troubles...."

He talks on at a very fast pace, but I rewind to one word that Bernie has spoken.

Audrey, I think.

"Audrey," I say.

"Yes." He looks at me, disoriented by my ignorance. "Yes, Audrey Hepburn. And she was absolutely marv--"

No, don't say marvelous, I beg. That word belongs to Milla.

"Audrey Hepburn!" I almost shout. "What can you tell me about the other two?"

"Well, I've got a catalog," Bernie explains. "It's even bigger than the one I showed you last time. It contains just about every movie ever released. Actors, directors, cinematographers, sound tracks, musical scores, the lot."