McFly July Day 3: Saw it in a Rerun
If there was one thing Marty knew for sure, it was that rainy days guaranteed there’d be nothing on TV. He’d debated even bothering to check, but anything other than planting himself on the couch had sounded too daunting. So, he threw on a sweatshirt, sank into the cushions, and made peace with becoming one with the furniture. His thumb hit the button on the remote in a steady rhythm—flipping through channels without really processing—catching snippets of shows, movies, and commercials.
Until one flash of black and white made him stop.
And there he sat, eyes transfixed on the glowing screen.
He’d seen this one a hundred times. Enough that he could recite most of the lines, enough that he could close his eyes and picture the scenes playing out in his head. Enough that he knew all the places his father’s laugh belonged.
Enough that if he squinted, blurred the rest of the room, and narrowed his focus down to just the show, it made the house feel just like home.
Footsteps interrupted the illusion.
“The Honeymooners?” Linda asked, packing a surprising amount of judgment into the two words.
Marty didn’t move his gaze from the television. “Yeah.”
He almost smiled. That had always been Linda’s opinion of the show.
“I’m going to the mall,” she told him. “Enjoy your ancient show.”
Then he was alone again, thumb hovering above the channel button for a moment before he made himself press it, the show blinking out and being replaced by another. Then another. And another.
In no time at all, Marty had channel-surfed his way full circle—back to where he’d started when he’d first sat down. And in a few more clicks of the button, Ralph Kramden was back on the screen. This time, he closed his eyes fully, attempting to mentally place himself and everyone else where they were supposed to be. Himself in his usual chair at the table. Dad to his left, Dave and Linda across, and Mom on his right. The smell of meatloaf and cigarette smoke mixing in the air.
“Oh, this is a great one!”
Marty jumped, eyes snapping open and finding his father.
“One of my favorites,” George continued, a giddiness to him that was so familiar it made Marty ache.