Rooftop Cinema – Part 2: The Front Row

The next Saturday, Julio came up the stairs with a box of projector spares under one arm and a paper cup of horchata in the other. He stopped at the top step and looked at the rows of chairs, the blankets, the faces turned towards the white sheet.

"You're early," said Renata, from the front row, where she had been sitting for an hour.

"I'm keeping my promise," said Julio. "The first reel. I'm sitting in the front."

He walked down the aisle slowly, sat in the chair beside hers, and set the horchata on the armrest between them.

"That's very brave," said Renata.

"It's very uncomfortable," said Julio. "Your neighbour's dog is watching me."

"That's Lupita. She's a critic."

"She doesn't like me."

"She likes everyone who sits still," said Renata, and the lights dimmed. The sheet lit up with a black-and-white comedy from the fifties, and the whole rooftop began to laugh.

Julio didn't laugh. He watched Renata instead, the light from the screen moving over her face, her hand resting on the armrest an inch from his.

Halfway through the film, the sound dipped. Julio's head snapped up, and he was out of his chair before she could say anything, climbing the ladder to fix it. He came back a minute later, breathless, grinning.

"It's fine," he said. "The cable was loose. I'm very good at cables."

"You're very good at a lot of things," said Renata, quietly.

"Can I ask you something?" he said, sitting down again, closer this time.

"Yes."

"What do you want from these Saturdays? Not the cinema. The rest."

Renata thought about it, watching the screen flicker with the comedy's final scene.

"I want to make something that lasts longer than one summer," she said. "I want people to come back every year, and bring their children, and remember which film they saw here. And I want to not be alone when I do it."

Julio was quiet. Then he took her hand, slowly, the way he might steady a wire.

"Then let me help you make it last," he said. "And I'll learn to talk to the neighbours. Starting with Lupita."

Renata laughed, and turned her hand over so their fingers laced together.

"Can I ask you something back?" she said.

"Yes."

"Would you kiss me, here, in the front row, with the whole rooftop laughing at a film about a sheep?"

Julio's grin was slow and warm. "Yes," he said. "And if you say stop, I'll go back to the projector and sulk."

"Good," said Renata, and leaned in.

He kissed her gently, the taste of horchata and cinnamon sweet between them, his free hand coming up to rest against her cheek. The sheep on the screen bleated, and the rooftop roared with laughter, and neither of them looked up until the reel had finished.

When they parted, both of them were smiling.

"Green?" he asked.

"Green," said Renata. "Very green. Now let's go and find Lupita, and you can tell her you're sorry about the sound."

"She'll never forgive me," said Julio, and took her hand, and they went up to the projector together, towards the last reel of the summer.