The Remaking by Clay McLeod Chapman

Author:Clay McLeod Chapman
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Quirk Books
Published: 2019-10-07T16:00:00+00:00

FIVE

Sergio’s story is like any other fan’s story. It’s a story I’ve heard so many times before, from so many different film buffs exactly like him. It doesn’t change the fact that he’s very passionate about what he’s talking about. Not one bit. It’s just that his story is no different from the legion of fans who’ve shared similar tales of stumbling upon Jessica for the first time.

His story isn’t his own.

It’s hers.

I can’t help but take pity on these kids, these boys, when they tell me their story. Always so heartfelt. So impassioned. They have this burning desire, this innate need to express how much this movie meant to them as kids. How it changed their lives. Haunted their dreams.

I haunted their dreams, they all say.

But it’s not true.

Whenever I hear them say this, I always want to respond—No, no, it wasn’t me. It wasn’t me at all. It was Jessica…

Always Jessica.

She is the one on-screen. She’s the one in the movie. I was just her conduit. A ripe vessel for possession. But instead of saying this, instead of saying a goddamn thing, I simply nod and smile and listen to them. I’m all ears, boys…Listen over and over again to the same story.

The name of the video store might change…

Video Kingdom.

Hollywood Video.

Video Emporium.

The town might be different…

Minneapolis.

Winnipeg.

Richmond.

It doesn’t matter which state…

Arkansas.

North Carolina.

Nevada.

The song remains the same, as they say, no matter where I hear it. No matter who sings it. Like a cover version. A broken record.

I could tell Sergio’s story for him, if I wanted. I could tell the story, all their stories, for these boys, if I chose. I know their story by heart now.

By heart.

Sergio was seven when he first saw the VHS cover for Don’t Tread on Jessica’s Grave. Every day after school, he would ride his bike to the local video store. Video World was tucked into a topiary-bordered alcove of the Stony Point Shopping Centre, just a swift five-minute Schwinn sojourn from his front door. No bigger than a boutique, this early-’80s video store was tiny in comparison to the cancerous sprawl of the Blockbuster Video chain that would begin to metastasize its way through suburban strip malls. It would eventually put all the mom-and-pop operations like Video World out of business, but not yet.

Sergio was one of the lucky boys. He pushed through his preadolescence just before the big blue-and-yellow Blockbuster awnings started cropping up across his quiet hometown.

He had found his home away from home.

Walking into Video World after locking up his bike, he lost himself in a Shangri-La of Betamax and VHS. Every inch of wall space was lined, floor-to-ceiling, with videocassettes. Each four-by-seven-and-a-half-inch VHS cassette contained a different story, just waiting to be told, and Sergio made it his mission to watch them all. Or as many as his allowance would bear.

Hidden at the very back of the store, buried behind comedy, family, and drama sections—but before he reached the “private room” of adult films at the very, very back—there was a single row of videos that were off-limits to children such as himself.

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