Page 23 of True North

“Movies.”

One word. Great. Not the best start to a date. But I’ve had worse. California isn’t exactly known for its chivalrous men. This one might take a while to thaw. This rates about a three on the shitty date scale. And I’ve been on least four “ones” before. I can salvage this. I think...

The last time I was at the Lewistown drive-in was with Harry. So many great films failed to hold our attention there, the moments always stolen by the both of us not being able to keep our hands off each other.

Nonetheless, we got our dose of movie culture there, and some must have sucked us in. I still remember the one-liners. Those nights were some of my favorites with Harry.

“Did you eat before you came?” I ask.

“No, you hungry?”

Starving.

After smelling Mama’s cooking while getting ready and then being immersed in it before he came, my stomach is tight with hunger.

“Yep, but whatever you want to do is fine.”

No way am I going to be known as the whining date. Lewistown is small. People talk. My reputation here is stellar. I intend on keeping it that way. My mind drifts back to the cooking I did with Mrs. Rawlins—Rosie. I wonder if she’s tried any of the other combinations we talked about.

She was so happy there in her kitchen, stirring, chopping, talking, laughing. I know she doesn’t have the best life. Harry always tried his best to take care of her, with his father being out of action and all.

“...seen it before?”

I snap my head to Brad. His eyebrow is raised. That was a question? He must have asked me something.

“Seen what before, sorry?”

“Empire Strikes Back? It’s the movie we’re seein’.”

Oh brilliant, nothing like a sci-fi movie to put a girl to sleep. “No, I haven’t. Is that what’s showing?”

“Yup, for the whole month. Awesome, hey?”

“Sure.” I stare out the window. So now, I’ll be bored and starving. I have half a mind to ditch and walk back home. But I need to move on, start making a life for myself. And dating is a part of that.

We pull into the drive-in, and Brad parks by the small box to connect his red rocket to the movie system. Moving about like a rabbit in the fox’s den, he constantly glances back to where I sit, as if I will poof out of existence like one of the characters in those films. The huge white screen above the fence oscillates with hazy static. They must be starting soon.

The speakers of his car crackle with the connection and I wind my seat back. If I can’t eat or enjoy the movie, I can at least have a nap. It’s sweet Brad is making an effort. He chats to some guys as they walk past with snacks, then disappears.

Okay...

Ten minutes later, he returns. His arms are loaded with snacks, hands gripping two drinks with straws.

Brilliant work, Brad.

My stomach grumbles.

I lean over and relieve him of the drinks as he sinks into the driver’s seat.

“Thanks, Louisa.”

He doesn’t look at me, handing me two packets out of the four he’s carrying. So, I watch the screen burst to life with the opening scene, some sort of probe coming from a spaceship.

Anything would be better than a sci-fi movie. Documentary. Thriller. Adventure. For a date, if Brad was smart—which apparently, he is not—a romance would put him in good standing to progress this here occasion.

“Have you seen this one before?” I ask.

“Yes, please don’t talk during the showing.”

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