Seeing me enter, my father was momentarily startled, then shifted over and pointed to a stool beside him, signaling for me to sit.

  From here, the screen was clearly visible, showing the climax of the movie—a fierce gunfight on speeding carriages. The surroundings were silent, save for the crackling sound of the projector.

  "When I was your age, I loved this movie. Your grandfather despised me going to the cinema; he looked down on it, thinking I was wasting my life," my father said, gazing at the screen as if talking to himself.

  "It was while watching this movie that I met your mother. She was a young, beautiful girl then, full of charm. We made a bet among friends that whoever could win her over would be treated to a celebration at the downtown tavern. And in the end, your mother chose me," my father reminisced, a smile spreading across his face.

  "Want to know how I won her over?" he turned to me.

  "How?"

  "Simple. Your mother loved movies. I took her to see movies for a whole week," my father chuckled, then added nostalgically, "Movies are wonderful. They're a completely different world where you can cry and laugh. They help you forget life's pains and remind you of your worth."

  I remained silent, watching my father intently, realizing that this usually stoic man had such a tender heart.

  "Later, I brought your mother to Burbank and opened a cinema here so she could watch movies whenever she wanted. Then came Carl, Boggie, and you. Do you know how much your mother loved watching movies as a child? This little cinema was our family's paradise," my father's eyes sparkled with warmth, then dimmed again. "But soon, this place won't be ours anymore. Andre, your mother and I are getting old, and you kids are growing up. Carl is gone, Boggie is not doing well, and you're our only hope now."

  I looked down at my feet. Though I couldn't remember much from my childhood, my father's words painted a picture of happy family moments in the cinema.

  "Dad, I want to do something meaningful. I don't want to drift aimlessly. Look, I've learned a lot in school. Berg and Gance might seem unreliable, but they have their talents. I want to achieve something, so when we make money, you and mom won't have to live like this anymore. You could drive around in a car like Wallace, and mom could wear fine Parisian perfume," I looked up at my father, my voice trembling.

  Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

  Tears welled up in my father's eyes. He quickly stood up to change the film reel, discreetly wiping away his tears.

  "Go to sleep, it's late," my father pointed to the door.

  I glanced at his trembling figure and descended the stairs.

  That night, I had many dreams. I dreamt of our movie being a huge success, of being welcomed with endless flowers, of building a grand cinema for my father, screening "The Great Train Robbery."

  I woke up near noon. Gance and I got out of bed to find the house empty.

  "Did your dad agree to give you the money?" Gance asked, munching on a piece of bread.

  I ignored him, hastily ate a bit, dressed, and went out.

  "Where are you going?" Gance called after me.

  "Just taking a walk," I replied without looking back.

  The busiest part of Burbank was just two blocks away—Burbank Street, lined with taverns, banks, and markets, bustling with activity.

  I aimlessly wandered along the street, stopping in front of a large pawnshop adorned with beautiful sculptures.

  As I admired the sculptures, someone bumped into me.

  "Sorry, sir," the person apologized.

  "It's okay... Mom! What are you doing here?!" I stared at the woman holding a small case—it was unmistakably my mother.

  "Andre, I was just browsing," my mother smiled awkwardly, but her forced smile betrayed her. No one comes to such a place just to browse. She must have pawned something.

  "Did you pawn something?" I asked loudly.

  My mother took my hand and walked a few steps. "We don't have much money at home, and you want to make a movie. I thought my jewelry could fetch some money. Guess how much I got? $3000! I didn't expect it to be so much!" she said, beaming.

  But I felt a lump in my throat, tears welling up.

  "Mom, that jewelry was from grandma and dad! How could you pawn it?!" No one knew what those pieces meant to her. Her mother had passed when she was ten, and those were the only things that connected her to her. Some were gifts from my father, symbols of their enduring love. And now, for my movie, they were in a pawnshop, exchanged for a stack of greasy bills.

  Seeing my mother's bare arms, ears, and neck, I couldn't hold back my sobs.

  "Silly child! There's nothing to cry about! Men of the Corleone family don't cry in the streets. I'm old and not much use anymore. If you're doing something meaningful, it's only right I contribute," my mother hugged me, gently patting my back, smiling.

  Back home, my father waved me over from his chair. I looked at my mother, who nodded encouragingly.

  "Andre, your mother and I talked last night. We think we should support you, whether you can make the movie or not. Not many young people want to make movies," my father smiled, pulling out a stack of money.

  "Here's $10,000. It's all I can offer. Your mother and I aren't crickets; we can't live on air," he pointed to the money, urging me to take it.

  Holding the $13,000 from my parents, it felt unbearably heavy, weighing down my hands. Tears streamed down again, and this time I didn't wipe them away. I vowed to myself: I must make a profitable movie! I must reclaim my mother's pawned jewelry! I must give them a better life!