opening in a couple of weeks, and mentioned to the other wives how much I’d like to go. They looked at me like I was crazy — or profane — and I changed the subject fast, holding my tongue until the drive home. “Can you believe them?” I said to Richard. “They act like a movie theater is a strip club or something.” From the back, Gordon said, “What’s a strip club?” “Something your mother shouldn’t be talking about.” “Christ,” I said. “You sound like a Moral Majority member too.” “Half the people in the factory either attend First Baptist or have family that do. There’s a lot of politics in small-town jobs. Harmony is a conservative place, Elaine.” “I hope the first movie the theater plays is Footloose. Maybe these people will get the hint and lighten up.” Richard grunted and that was the end of the conversation. At the church service two days later, the congregation was in an uproar over the Haliled. It turned out Mr. Dorenius reached out to Coop and the youth group pastors at other churches, as well as Boy and Girl Scout leaders, to invite the kids to a pre-opening lock-in with movies and pizza. What a brilliant move from Dorenius, I thought. He must have understood he was building his multiplex in somewhat hostile territory, but maybe he’d underestimated the community’s resistance. I certainly had as I listened to people murmur and mutter in the pews. So much uproar over going to a damn movie! There was a special church meeting the next day to discuss the youth group’s participation in the lock-in. Coop subjected himself to a barrage of inane questions and inferences that left many wondering if he was fit to guide adolescents in their spiritual journey. I sat there biting my tongue and shaking my head with Richard sometimes elbowing me to keep calm. But how could I? Coop was being persecuted and I wanted to defend him. I wanted to hold him. Guilt overcame me and I bowed my head, hearing little of the meeting until Pastor Tommy stood up and said it was time for the congregation to vote through a show of hands. Before the vote could be called though, a voice spoke from the back. “Might I address this lovely gathering?” We turned our heads and saw a man walking down the aisle. He was slim, his thinning hair swept back and pomaded like some silent movie era leading man. A pencil-thin moustache helped complete the look, finalized by a vest, coat and pants ensemble that must have belonged to a tuxedo popular ages ago. His appearance provoked mutters and a bit of snickering. Pastor Tommy said, “I don’t believe I know you, sir.” “Jacob Dorenius,” the man said. “Owner of the Haliled Multiplex and soon to be host — I hope — of a youth lock-in that will include the children of First Baptist.” “This meeting is for members of the church, Mr. Dorenius.” “Nevertheless I am here. Like Daniel into the lion’s den.” This won a slight but good-natured laugh. Pastor Tommy frowned a bit, but relented. “Very well. We are interested in hearing what you have to say.” “First, let me start with an apology. It was not my intent to provoke controversy when I extended my invitation to your youth group. I know films have become a cesspool of violence, a celebration of deviance and adultery. I decided to build the Haliled to combat these attitudes and show wholesome pictures. I want the youth of today to care less about the Return of the Jedi, and more about the return of Christ.” There was brief but spontaneous applause from a few people in the audience. Dorenius smiled to acknowledge them and spoke for a few more minutes. By the time he finished, every heart was softened, and those most inclined toward hostility instead peppered Mr. Dorenius with warm questions about his background, his faith and his calling. Dorenius witnessed about the power of cinema to further God’s word, describing his tearful group attend. The lock-in was held on Friday, September 13, a bit inauspicious date-wise but practical since school started the week before. Richard drove the boys to church, leaving them in Coop’s care, then came home and settled into his chair. Without saying a word, I turned off the television, sparking a bit of confused protest. Then I dropped down on my knees in front of him and caressed his upper thighs. “Elaine— ” “When’s the last time we had the house to ourselves?” “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m just not in the mood.” His apology was as flaccid as the rest of him. I got up to head to the bathroom. He called after me, saying he was sorry, but I didn’t acknowledge him. I locked the bathroom door, ran a hot bath and added some Calgon to the water. I soaked and, after a little resistance, enjoyed a feverish fantasy of Coop. The boys came home at 8 a.m. the next morning. Their early arrival surprised me and I put on my robe and went downstairs to find them sitting side-by-side on the couch. “How was the lock-in?” “It was okay,” Matthew said. “What did you see?” “Some movie,” Gordon said. The boys shrugged. I understood their lethargy. How much could they have slept? “Want breakfast?” “I’m not hungry,” Matthew said. “Me either, Mom.” “Stuffed from eating pizza all night?” There was something off-putting about the smile they gave, like they were reacting to a joke I didn’t know I’d made. But I was tired and distracted, so I headed back to bed, stopping only to ask if they’d made sure to thank Mr. Dorenius and Coop for a fun night. “Did you thank Coop for a fun night too?” Matthew said. “What?” I stared at them, thinking I must have misheard Matthew the first time, but nevertheless returned to bed with a cold weight in my stomach. It had just been a fantasy, I told myself. Innocent. Everyone has them. But I’d be more discreet even in my mind from now on. 29 reactions to The Ten Commandments and The Greatest Story Ever Told. The congregation voted — the tally wasn’t close — to let the youth
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