Hearts Like Ours

The rain was letting up as Harry and Charlie stepped out onto the wet platform just outside the Space Needle. There was enough sunlight for Harry to shield his eyes as he lifted his head to examine the landmark, which was taller than he expected. He let out a low whistle and Charlie chuckled beside him, shoving her hands in her hoodie pocket.

He turned to her to ask her something about the height of it, but paused taking notice of the building behind her.

“What the hell is that?” he asked, gesturing to it. She glanced over her shoulder half-heartedly as if she really didn’t need to look to know what he was referring to.

“The EMP Museum. It’s a science fiction and pop culture museum,” she explained.

He tilted his head to one side, his eyes following the strange ebb and flow of the structure. The sides were made of a shiny metal, colored in different places and curved in unexpected intervals. It looked as if the Seattle wind had caught hold of it like a curtain and threatened to blow it all away.

“They have a really cool Jimi Hendrix exhibit. He’s from Seattle, if you didn’t know. We’re pretty proud of it,” she continued quietly from beside him, watching his face as he took it in.

“Well obviously we have to go, then.”

“What about the Space Needle?” she asked, biting her lip. Harry looked down to her where she stood just half a head shorter than him. Charlie was a girl who liked structure, enjoyed having a plan, and he was shaking it up on her. Maybe Cam was right. She seemed pretty uptight.

“The day is young. It’ll still be there when we’re finished. Come on.”

Without a second thought, he grabbed her hand, gently tugging her forward. She seemed thoroughly shocked by the action as she looked down at their connected hands, but even more surprised that her feet seemed to be moving, following him like he wanted. Harry kept his eyes transfixed on his destination, refusing to admit to himself how difficult it had been to reach forward for her in even the smallest of gestures. Had it been anyone else, he would have been playfully linking arms. Somehow, it felt different with Charlie and he wasn’t quite sure why it took so much courage to grab her hand for the smallest moment, even for a practical reason. He loosened his grip on her, letting his hand fall from hers. She immediately returned it to her pocket as they walked, her trying to catch up to him. Harry suddenly paused in his step and Charlie had to pivot to look at him.

“What?” she asked, her eyebrows furrowing with concern. He held back a smile. It was a good look on her.

“I’m not sure where I’m going...” he admitted, raising his hand to the back of his neck where he scratched it out of habit. “Your turn to lead the way.”

She rolled her eyes and turned on her heel, but Harry still caught the slight upturn of her lips. She led them around the curve of the building and he followed half a step behind, his fingers trailing along the ridges of the metal surface. Charlie glanced back at him over her shoulder, but he didn’t seem to take notice as he watched the faint glow of sunlight that was reflecting from the mirror-like surface of the sheet metal.

He was certainly something, she decided. He’d traveled the world, met hundreds of thousands of people, and yet he was fascinated by the architecture of the museum and the way it felt beneath his touch. Harry had seen so much, yet his child-like wonder couldn’t be stifled at the sight of a reflective surface. A giggle passed through her lips before she could stop it. His eyes flashed up to her, the cloudy haze in the sky reflecting in his eyes, which were radiating green. His arm fell to his side and he grinned lazily, slightly embarrassed she’d been watching him as he absently followed behind her.

They paused at the ticket booth long enough for Harry to buy their tickets. Charlie let out a slightly annoyed huff, but didn’t bother to protest this time. She’d caught the hang of it now and while it still made her uncomfortable, it was obvious Harry wasn’t going to allow her to pay her own way. Once finished, they made their way to the entrance where Harry held the door for her. She nodded in thanks, pausing long enough for him to step into the building behind her. A bored-looking middle-aged woman ripped their tickets, handing the stubs back before ushering them past. Charlie’s eyes landed on a romance novel she’d hastily shoved in a crevice of the podium upon their arrival.

“Where to?” she asked him. He scanned the area. Straight ahead was a fork, the path on the left leading to an exhibit on architecture and the one on the right leading into a much larger room and probably most of the museum. Directly adjacent on the left were double doors opened to reveal a staircase going down. A lit sign advertised an exhibit on horror films.

“Start here and make our way back?” he suggested. She shrugged in response before starting in the direction of the staircase.

The walls were lined with black and white photos of visitors to the exhibit screaming. Charlie’s eyes followed them as they moved, amusedly scanning the different faces as their footsteps echoed throughout the curving room leading to the exhibit. Ominous music floated softly from the room at the bottom of the stairs, getting louder as they approached.

Charlie paused at the bottom of the steps, waiting for Harry as he caught up to her, distracted by the array of options suddenly presented to them. He raised his brows at her, communicating it was her decision where to begin. She turned to her immediate left where a small group of people were huddled around a TV screen. Eli Roth’s name was written above it and she took in the face on the screen as he talked about one of his movies.

“I think I saw that one,” Harry commented as the screen changed to a scene from a movie. Charlie tilted her head to the side as she watched the snippet.

“I’m not a huge horror fan,” she admitted. “I’m okay with gore, like in the Saw movies or whatever, but I can’t watch anything that has ghosts or demons in it.”

“Why?” he asked, his eyes flickering over to her. She turned away from the screen to look at a rusty chair in a display case, apparently used in the Hostel movie.

“I find my imagination more frightening than reality,” she responded.

Harry made no response as they moved further into the room. Along the wall was a display of horror film posters. Charlie’s eyes examined them each in turn before she led them to the center of the room, partitioned off by metal frames and red lights. It was ominous and dark, but held tv screens much like the one they’d just seen. Various different stories were playing at once. Charlie headed straight for one, smiling softly to herself.

“I’ve actually seen this one,” she said.

It was a black and white film interspresed with commentary by famous horror directors. They were talking about how this movie had influenced their love of horror films. Harry squinted in through the dim lighting to read the title above the television screen. Diabolique. 1955.

“What is it about?” he asked.

“It’s a French film. The plot is kind of complicated, but the general idea is that this woman is in an abusive relationship with her husband, who has a mistress at the school they all work at. The women know about each other and plot to kill him, but there’s a huge twist at the end and I don’t want to ruin it for you if you ever watch it.”

“I must admit I don’t spend much time watching black and white French horror films from the 1950’s.”

She pulled away from the screen, taking a look at the rest of the room.

“I think there are some displays back there,” he said, pointing further back into the room. She made a gesture to signal him to lead the way, which he began to do, dodging various horror lovers as they read the in-depth descriptions of movie monsters on the walls. In a long row of cases were props from movies. Harry approached one.

“Sick,” he said beneath his breath as he leaned down. The gloves were from Nightmare on Elm Street. Charlie had never seen the movie but the words Freddy Kreuger popped into her mind immediately at the sight of them.

She began to wander from him, her eyes trailing the items until she stopped at anything she’d remotely heard of.

“Did you watch Buffy?” Harry asked from behind her. She’d paused at the sight of a stake which had been used in the show.

“I used to watch it with Emmett when I was a kid. He always made me promise not to tell,” came her answer with a small laugh.

“She was such a badass,” Harry said. She nodded in agreement.

“That she was.”

Her feet began to move again, but this time Harry moved with her. He seemed less interested in the props themselves, more engaged in what she had to say about them. She felt intensely aware of this fact and it made her self-conscious. Wasn’t today about getting to know him? Somehow she felt like she was still only revealing more of herself.

“Friday the 13th was a good one. Ever seen that one?” he asked as he stopped in front of Jason’s mask. She shook her head no. “I think you’d probably like it. It’s mild as far as horror movies go. Are you scared easily?”

She tilted her head to one side as she considered this, haulting for a moment before another group of displays. Frankenstein’s headpiece and boots were in this glass case and she examined them before she began to answer.

“I guess so. I tend to overanalyze things and turn them into monsters.”

Her voice trailed off for a moment as she read the descriptions of the items and their importance in the movie. When she looked over again, Harry had pulled his shoe off to compare it to the size of Frankenstein’s, which was noticably larger. She couldn’t help but let out a bark of laughter. His face brightened at her reaction.

“Well that’s disappointing,” he stated before letting his boot fall to the ground and pulling it back on. She shook her head at him, a smile still prominent on her lips as she moved past the case to the other side.

They were on opposing ends of the display, separated by panes of glass. He was still occupied with his shoe so she kept going, albeit slowly so he could catch up to her. Her eyes focused on a mask used for a monster when she realized he hadn’t attempted to join her but was instead on the other side of the display, making a face to mimick the one she had been looking at. She began laughing again and he did the same before rounding the corner.

“Scary how alike you are,” she told him when she’d caught her breath.

“It’s like looking into a mirror,” he responded, squinting his eyes at the headpiece. He looked over to her for approval at his lame joke and she rolled her eyes at him. She was loosening up, at least.

“What’s that?” Charlie asked, suddenly distracted by something behind him. He turned his head to look at what she was referring to. A man and his daughter were standing in front of a white screen. Behind them was a projector which made alterations to their shadows any time they moved.

Harry turned back to her, grinning. “Come on,” he said before practically sprinting for it. She stood there in his wake, startled by his enthusiasm. It was catching and she found herself jogging to catch up to him.

The man and his daughter were making strange movements, laughing as they watched what the projector did with them. The girl looked to be thirteen, fourteen maybe at the oldest. She was mid-guffaw when she caught sight of Harry watching them, an amused smile on his face. Her eyes widened in recognition and her movements ceased. Her father, confused, turned to find the source of the sudden change in his daughter’s demeanor.

“Oh my god, hi,” she said, the words rushing together into one word. She sounded winded as she spoke, almost on the edge of hysteria. Charlie watched from a few feet away as Harry interacted with the girl and her dad. He spoke easily to them, asking for their names and conversing about the exhibit and museum itself.

“What brings you to Seattle?” the dad asked. Harry glanced over at Charlie and she felt suddenly scrutinized as all heads turned in her direction.

“I’m visiting a friend,” he responded. The father nodded, taking a step back and laying a hand on his daughter’s shoulder.

“We don’t mean to bother you,” he said.

“No! Not at all. It was great chatting with you,” Harry told him.

“Wait, can I get a picture?” the girl asked. Harry bit his lip as he considered this and Charlie realized that virtually no one knew he was even in Seattle, let alone that the reason he’d come was to find a girl who wrote a diary he’d discovered on a street corner. Finally, he responded with an, “Absolutely” and lifted his arm for the girl to stand under. He grinned at the camera, leaning down to match the girl’s height as her dad snapped the photo on her iPhone. They thanked him before leaving and Harry returned his attention to Charlie, an apologetic look on his face. He looked like a misbehaving puppy, begging for forgiveness.

“I’m sorry about that,” he said. She shook her head, smiling at him to let him know it was okay.

“You shouldn’t apologize for that. You were really sweet to them.”

“Sweet?” He asked in mock anger. She raised an eyebrow, curious to see where he was taking this as he moved backward into the light of the projector. “I’m a monster,” he growled, bending into a crouch and making a claw of his hand.

She bit back laughter, watching as his shadow grew spikes and odd bumps, long nails sprouting from his fingers. She hopped into the light, making a weird pose of her own. Her back grew a fin and weird triangles sprouted from her head. They were both laughing as they moved, their shadows transforming every few seconds. Harry pulled out his phone and snapped a picture of their silhouettes side by side.

“What now?” Charlie asked as Harry shoved his phone in his pocket. He looked around, taking inventory of the room. To the right was the exit, to the left a photobooth that dared those who entered to give their best scream. She recalled the photos that had been posted on the walls of the stairwell and realized they’d been taken there. Charlie’s eyes returned to Harry’s face who was looking at her daringly. He gestured to the booth and she shrugged before walking toward it.

He held the curtain aside behind her as they read the instructions on the screen. Harry hit the button too quickly, Charlie was still mid-read through.

“Harry,” she sighed, exhasperated.

“What?” he asked. “They count down, you scream, the picture is taken. Self-explanatory.”

She shook her head as if he didn’t understand the sacredness of a good set of instructions. He only grinned lazily at her as the screen counted down. As the numbers on the screen hit one, they each sucked in a large breath before letting out a short, loud yell. A flash filled the small space and Charlie immediately relaxed on the small bench beside Harry.

The booth instructed them to wait a moment as it recalled the photo to show them. Neither moved, eyes on the screen. Charlie took the opportunity to continue an earlier discussion.

“So what scares you, Harry?” she asked.

He chewed on his lip but made no reply. She wasn’t entirely sure if he’d answer as the photo arrived on the screen, both their faces scrunched with their mouths open in mock terror. It asked if they’d like to buy prints and Harry pulled a few stray dollars from his pocket and fed it into the booth, purchasing two. They printed out and he handed her one before sliding out and holding the curtain aside for her to follow.

“Failure,” he finally admitted as they pushed through the exit and began ascending the stairs leading away from the exhibit. She looked up at him. He didn’t look at her as he continued. “I’m afraid of letting people down.”

She nodded to herself as they entered back into the sunlit lobby through a different door they’d left it from. “That makes sense with what you do,” she commented as they both walked forward. He paused at the architecture exhibit as if asking if she wanted to go in, but she shook her head no in response.

“Let’s go to the Sky Church.”

“What?”

Charlie was silent as she kept walking, ignoring Harry’s question as they passed a gift shop. The hall they were in suddenly led to a gigantic room and she stopped to gauge Harry’s reaction.

The room was lit purple, but it changed color depending on the lighting. At the front was the largest LED screen Harry had ever seen and the Thriller music video was playing on it. Many spectators had paused to watch, but Charlie began to lead them toward one of the many benches set up in the extensive space. She took a seat and he plopped down beside her, looking around in awe at the sheer size of it all. Above them, umbrellas hung upside down with spirals lights projected on them. The sound was booming, vibrating the bench and the floor beneath his feet, yet he could still hear Charlie when she spoke.

“It’s a Jimi Hendrix thing. He referred to a place where people of all cultures could gather to enjoy music as a ‘sky church’ and they named it after him. It’s mostly used for this, but I think they do weddings and concerts here, too. The museum is called EMP because it stands for the Experience Music Project.”

Harry nodded but made no other reply as he watched the video in silent amazement. They sat there beside each other, eyes on the screen as one video ended and another began. Charlie watched him from the corner of her eye, though she was careful not to reveal it. Music was a huge part of his life, perhaps took up the largest amount of space in his heart, and she let him take his time there as she realized truly how accurate Jimi Hendrix had been in naming the space. Yes, sitting beside Harry on that bench, Don’t Let Me Down by the Beatles playing throughout the room, his lips moving along to the lyrics as he lost himself in the video, it certainly did feel like an everlasting moment in a sacred place.