I arrived at the Fred Wood Funeral Home right before eleven in the morning. Eric Clapton’s “Tears of Heaven” was playing over the speakers. I could overhear an older woman in the row in front of me whisper, “I’m sick of hearing this song at memorial services,” to the gentleman sitting to her left. I couldn’t disagree with her. Out of the last ten funerals I attended, at least seven of them featured this song. For a brief moment, I started thinking about which songs I would like to have played at mine. The playlist would undoubtedly include the following five songs:
The Beatles - “In My Life”
New Order - “Ceremony”
Monty Python - “Always Look on the Brighter Side of Life”
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds - “Into My Arms”
Joey Ramone - “What a Wonderful World”
A voice I hadn't heard since graduation interrupted me before I could mentally jot down more songs for my funeral playlist. After she said, “Hi Tommy,” I turned around and saw the beautiful Nina Koteras. It looked like she hadn’t really changed since the last time I saw her. She was still 5’9 and had long black hair. Although she gained weight and increased her breast size from 34B to 34D, she maintained her looks. We made some small talk for a few minutes, and she introduced me to her husband. I guess he felt uncomfortable with her talking to me because he kept on hurrying her to end our conversation so they could go find a seat in another aisle. As I watched her walk away, all I could think about was how she helped me find the light during some dark times.
In January 1986, my life took a turn for the worse when my father “accidentally” killed eleven people in a drunk driving accident in the early morning of New Year’s Day. For weeks, his crime made the headlines on the nightly local news. Family members of the victims were constantly speaking out and holding up photos while telling stories of the lives my dad’s actions destroyed. Even his long-term drinking buddy, Bill Bonds from Channel Seven News, made scathing commentaries that made sure the people found him guilty in the court of public opinion.
Some people also thought his children were guilty by association. Several weeks after the tragedy, one of the victim’s fathers came into my K-Mart and started taking his anger toward my dad out on me by trying to punch me. Store security ran and subdued him until the police arrived. Later that night, the store manager called me into his office and convinced me to take a leave of absence until the anger blew over. He said the time off would do me good, and by that, he meant it would do the store good. The TV stations and newspaper reporters wouldn't be encamped in the parking lot if I wasn't present. Instead, they would set up shop at my school or in front of my house.
When my father eventually got out on bail, he should have gone into seclusion and prepared for his upcoming trial instead of desperately trying to save his reputation. He was constantly on TV, blaming everyone but himself. He blamed Porsche by saying his car had a faulty braking system. He said that his girlfriend’s death was her own fault for not wearing a seatbelt. And he tried to blame the entire catastrophic event on the woman who was driving the car he smashed into. As hard as he tried, nobody believed him. People demanded the removal of his commercials from all stations. Mothers Against Drunk Driving protested in front of his office as his attempts at damage control continually failed.
My dad became a pariah in the Detroit legal community. The attorneys he once called friends refused to represent him. The majority of his clients, even his shadier ones, thought that doing business with him was a terrible idea. The only person who would stand by my dad was his older brother, Jason Mitchell. He was a hotshot Assistant District Attorney in the city of Los Angeles with higher political aspirations. While he wasn't able to practice law in Michigan, he was building a team of lawyers that my father could afford.
To keep whatever money he had left in his possession, he cried to my mom that he was broke and could no longer pay child support and alimony. She didn’t buy any of it; she knew he had money hidden. She hired a lawyer to subpoena his financial records. When they finally went to appear before the judge at the end of January, the court-appointed accountants told him that my dad had $2,000 in his name and that his mom and brother were currently paying for his living expenses.
Since my dad was no longer giving my mom the extra $2,500 a month, things got extra tight in the Mitchell household. We had to significantly reduce expenses, such as Annie's private school tuition. So for the first time in her life, she was going to join me at Livonia Stevenson High School. We started buying generic foods instead of name brands. While my mom got a slight raise at her work, she also started working a part-time job at Perry Drugs at Twelve Mile and Farmington Road. To help pay for expenses, Laurie, my older sister, started giving my mom money from turning tricks, which my mom had no idea she was doing.
I tried to keep a brave face through this whole ordeal, but I was slowly dying on the inside. I had become withdrawn and started keeping to myself at school. I continued having sex with Jane and Kimberly, but it became less and less frequent. They both gave me space, but I was worried that the more withdrawn I became, the less they would be there if or when this depression went away. But I couldn’t fathom that would ever happen. Every night, when I closed my eyes, the victims of my father’s dumb decision haunted me, screaming that it was all my fault.
It really sucked that my mom couldn’t afford to get me therapy. I was bottling up too much inside. I worried the pain would get too much and I would hurt myself. I was concerned that if I opened up to a teacher or guidance counselor, they would call my mom and give her another thing to deal with. She was already stressed out enough about money, her kids’ futures, and the fact that her relationship with Frank was on a rocky road due to her inability to provide financial support.
The last time he was over, I overheard the two of them talking about him finally moving in with us. Now that Frank had secured a full-time job at the Ford Assembly Plant in Wayne, MI, and was earning a respectable income, my mom believed that if he lived in our house, it would help alleviate some of the expenses. When she mentioned that, they started arguing. It got so bad that Annie, my little sister, joined me in the basement, and we turned the volume up on the TV to drown out their argument.
I didn’t want him to move into our house. You see, Frank wasn’t a kind guy. After my dad’s arrest, he would tell me that I was the son of a murderer and that I was going to grow up and be like him. Every time he belittled me, he made me feel worthless. Whenever I confided in my mom about the things Frank had said, she would apologize on his behalf. But with money so tight, she really needed him to trade his bedroom at his mom’s for hers. For that reason, I couldn’t blame my mom for ignoring the things he said to me, no matter how withdrawn I was from my once-active social life.
On Friday, March 14th, after the final school bell of the day rang, I was walking toward the exit. I heard a female voice behind me quietly say, “I miss your smile.”
I quickly turned around and saw Nina Koteras, who was wearing a long black skirt and a tight gray sweater, standing behind me, smiling. I didn’t really know Nina all that well. All I knew about Nina was that she was sixteen years old, played on the girls' basketball team, and was distinguished by her slim body, perky 34B breasts, long black hair, and tan skin. While I thought she was beautiful, I haven’t said more than two words to her since she transferred to our school in January.
Since I didn’t respond right away, she said, “You have a really nice smile, and I would love to see it.”
“I’m sorry,” I replied. “But I have nothing to smile about.”
“Bullshit,” she said. “It’s a beautiful day, and you’re alive to embrace it and live life to the fullest.”
“I never realized you were a motivational poster come to life,” I said sarcastically.
She then looked at me as if she was about to start crying as she said, “I know what you’re going through.”
"No, you don’t,” I replied.
“I do,” she said. “You look depressed all the time. I don’t see you out and about. And I can hear you constantly listening to The Smiths on your Walkman, which is the most cliche thing a depressed person can do.”
That actually made me laugh, which made her start singing, “Show me that smile again,” the theme from “Growing Pains.”
As a smile beamed across my face, she said, “I’ve missed seeing that.”
I then looked her in the eyes and asked, “Why do you care so much?”
She then rolled up the right side of her white sweater to reveal scars on her wrist. I had no idea that she attempted something like that. At that moment, I realized that I knew next to nothing about Nina. All I knew was that she previously went to Southfield Lathrup, and that her dad was Denny's district manager. As I continued staring at her scars, I asked, “Why?”
“Because I missed my mom,” she solemnly said. “Last July 2nd was the first anniversary of her death, and because my dad threw himself into work, I felt all alone. I desperately wanted to be with my mom again, so I did something stupid. Thankfully, my brother found me and called an ambulance. I stayed in a hospital for the summer. When school started, the other students were pointing fingers and whispering rumors about why I did what I did. Because of that, I got even more depressed, and my dad decided that it was in my best interest to move so I could go to a different school.
So we now live here, and I’m talking to you. And since anyone can plainly see that you’re hurting, I want to do something for you that no one did for me when I was hurting. I want to show you how beautiful life is.”
“How do we do that?” I asked.
“Do you have to work tonight?” she asked.
“Nope,” I replied. “I’m on a temporary leave of absence.
“Nice,” she said. “Did you drive here today?”
“Nope,” I once again replied. ”My mom’s car is in the shop, so she borrowed mine.”
“Goody,” she said. “Now follow me to my car, and let’s start our adventure.”
Five minutes later, we were sitting in the front seat of her blue Chrysler K car. As we waited for the car to heat up, I asked, “Where are we going?”
“Do you like movies?” she asked.
“I love them,” I said with excitement in my voice. “Due to everything that’s going on, I haven’t been to the theater in awhile. Feel like seeing “Pretty in Pink” or “Highlander?”
“How about I surprise you?” she asked..
“That’s cool,” I replied.
As we drove away from the school, I learned more about Nina. She’s the youngest of three kids and the only girl in the bunch. Her favorite TV shows of all time are “The Brady Bunch'' and “Dynasty.” Her favorite pop star of all time is Madonna, which explains why she started singing along to “Lucky Star” when it began playing on WHYT. I have to admit that she had a beautiful voice. Heck, everything about her was beautiful, especially her eyes. When you looked directly into them, it felt like they were casting a love spell on you.
Fifteen minutes later, we arrived at the Cabaret movie theater, located in a strip mall at Eight Mile and Beech Daly in Southfield. A K-Mart anchored one end of the mall, while a cinema occupied the other. The Cabaret started out as the Jerry Lewis Theatre in the 1960s; after it shut down, it started showing pornographic films. The police padlocked the doors in the early seventies during a showing of “Deep Throat.” It eventually reopened as a cult and classic movie house, showing films from Charlie Chaplin and the Marx Brothers. It was the first to show "The Rocky Horror Picture Show" in Metro Detroit.
After “Star Wars” came out, they started showing movies that ripped off George Lucas’s masterpiece, like “Starcrash” and “Battle Beyond the Stars.” I remember begging my mom to take me to see “Message from Space,” which was playing there for one weekend only back in 1979. She refused. From that point on, I started cutting out ads from the "Detroit Free Press" for the Cabaret every day. They played David Lynch’s first film, horror movies from Dario Argento and Lucio Fulci, and screwball comedies from the sixties and seventies. I couldn’t wait to start driving, so I go there and watch cool movies every weekend. By 1981, they had once again become a porno palace. If you were eighteen years old or older, you could watch dirty movies from ten in the morning until midnight.
“Earth to Tommy, are you ready to go see a movie?” "Earth to Tommy, are you ready to go see a movie?" Nina asked as I stared at the marquee, which read, "Now playing: Amber Lynn in "Amber Aroused."
“Yes,” I replied as we both got out of her car and started walking towards the ticket booth. While I had seen pornographic films before, I had never seen one in a movie theater. On occasion, I would rent one or two from the local video store and jerk off in the basement as I watched them. However, watching them in front of an audience seemed weird to me. I couldn’t help but wonder if men went to the bathroom to masturbate or if they did it in their seats. I really hoped it was the former.
As we approached the ticket booth, I asked, “Have you ever been here before?”
“No,” she said, laughing. “I thought seeing a movie here would make you happy.”
“Do you have a fake ID?” I asked. “They’re not going to let us in.”
“Don’t worry about it; I have a plan,” she said as she continued laughing.
There was no line for tickets, just a guy behind the glass looking bored as he read the latest issue of “Hustler.” It took a couple of minutes for him to realize there were two customers waiting to buy tickets. He smiled as he creepily stared at Nina before asking, “How many tickets?”
“Two,” I replied.
“Are you eighteen? He asked.
Nina and I both said, “Yes,” with confidence.
I then pulled out a five-dollar bill from my wallet and handed it to him. Immediately he gave me two tickets and one dollar as he said, laughing to himself, “Enjoy the movie, kids.”
As we walked inside, Nina said in a hushed tone, “Before you say anything, yes, he knows we aren’t eighteen, and no, he doesn’t care.”
Nina then gently kissed my lips before asserting, "I appreciate your purchase of the tickets; however, the remainder of the day and evening are on me, okay?"
“Okay,” I replied as I grabbed her hand and walked toward the concession stand.
“Do you really want to get snacks?” she asked as I stared at the painting of Groucho Marx on the wall behind the popcorn machine.
It’s not that I wanted snacks; it was a movie ritual. Before any show, I would get a medium popcorn and a root beer. I’ve done this at every movie since I was seven, and it would seem weird not to do it. But this wasn’t a normal movie, so I looked at Nina and said, “Not really.”
As we walked into the auditorium, she smiled as she tightly held my hand. The Cabaret had about three hundred and fifty seats. Only twenty of the seats were in use on this particular day. These men were scattered across the room and not making eye contact as they were in various states of pleasuring themselves. The floors were sticky, and if I had to guess, it wasn’t just from spilled soft drinks. The smell of jizz, mixed with sweat, was also present. When they finally noticed that an attractive female was walking down the aisle looking for a seat, they started staring at her.
We sat down in the middle of the fourth row. The film “Amber Aroused” started playing on the screen. This film is most famous for Amber Lynn fucking a robot with a dildo attached to it. The film was directed by Mark Davis, a former gay porn actor turned straight porn director. With a cast featuring Amber Lynn, Shone Taylor, Crystal Breeze, Sasha Gabor, Ron Jeremy, and Mindy Rae, this was his best film. When I first worked with Amber Lynn a year and seven months later, I asked her about this film, and all she could say was, "I fucked a robot?" Cool.”
The movie opened with Amber getting a ride from Sasha Gabor. He bore a striking resemblance to Burt Reynolds and frequently landed roles that accentuated this similarity. He dressed like the Bandit from the classic film "Smokey and the Bandit" and fucked Amber in his Trans-Am. By the time we reached the sixth sex scene, Nina was able to sense my arousal as I caressed my hard dick over my pants. Without...
