Throughout his career, actor John Paravati has stuck with what he told the gossip rags -- he's been in like, in lust, even in respect once or twice, but never love. All he's ever cared about is performing. If he's stuck now doing commercials for cruise lines, at least it's better than shilling adult diapers.<br><br>But Hollywood pretends, and John is a master. Because once upon a time, he loved two things more than anything -- his best friend Frank and the movie palace he used as sanctuary.<br><br>Over fifty years ago, John ran away from his hometown. Now, someone has restored the theater he left behind, and they want John at its relaunch. The memories still sting, but he agrees to attend, even though it means dealing with heartache. At seventy-seven, he's too old to hold onto the hurt. The question is, however, is he too old to start over once it's gone?

The Hearts of Yesteryear

“You’ll think I’m a pathetic old man when I tell you what happened,” he said softly.


“Oh, Mr. P…” She sighed as she shut the drawer. “If you can possibly think I would ever think you’re pathetic after all the time you’ve known me, I’ve been doing my job all wrong.”


Again, she was taking it on herself when that hadn’t been his intention at all. The support shining through her words convinced him he was about to do the right thing.


“I was almost twenty when I walked away from Shakersville. Two days shy of my birthday. That very last night I spent in town, I spent in the balcony of The Crown with Frank Hanson…”


John was on his hands and knees, scraping fresh gum off the bottom of one of the first row seats, when the theater went pitch black. “Ellis!” He bolted upright, wincing when his elbow knocked against the armrest. “I’m still in here! If you want to lock up, say so!”


Chapter 18