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“You say that like you’re an old, wizened man, and nottwenty-four,” she says, reaching out and poking me between the ribs with her thumb and forefinger.

“Ouch!” I drop the bag of popcorn as I reflexively moved to cover myself. She steals it, opens it up, laughing like a little troll.

“I told you I was Gollum,” she says, tearing into the bag and stealing a handful.

“You suck,” I say, taking the remote and pushing play on the movie.

“I know,” she says.

I regret making a joke about that, because I fear on some level she thinks that’s true.

I’m not all that interested in this movie, and I’ve seen it too many times, which leaves my mind to wander over to her. I look at her profile, watch as she watches the movie like she’s never seen it before, her eyes wide with fear when Frodo is nearly captured, smiling when the Fellowship of the Ring is formed.

“There’s just something about the story,” she says wistfully. “That if we all just try to do what’s right when it’s really hard, we could change the world. Defeat the bad guys. Make friends and boil potatoes.”

I swallow hard, and for the first time I really understand what she gets out of the story. Because for a little while, it’s possible to look at very real problems through this lens of fantasy. See a world where good does triumph over evil simply because it’s good, and it has to.

She wants a date.

That creates an uncomfortable shift in my chest.

She doesn’t let anyone touch her.

Except me.

She touched me herself, reached right out and jabbedme in the middle of the discussion, and she doesn’t seem afraid of me at all.

Maybe I could…

No. No. I pushed that thought to the side. It’s a complete betrayal of her. Of everything she is for me to think something like that, to even begin to think something like that.

She’s Sarah. I’m taking care of her. She trusts me.

She trusts me enough to tell me about all these things. To sit with me in a darkened room, sharing this space, sharing air, sharing her favorite movie.

I would never, ever do anything to compromise that. Never.

I love her. With everything I am. Every fiber of my being, and I always have. I haven’t always known what love was, and I still might not know exactly what that emotion looks like in every form in my life, but I believe in it. I value it.

Because every time I’ve ever been loved my life has changed for the better. Every time I’ve ever loved someone.

Even if sometimes it hurts a little bit.

The movie is long, and I’m surprised I don’t start dozing off. But I know it’s because of her. I know it’s because I feel like I’m making up for lost time. Precious moments and memories with this person who slipped through my fingers for so long. Maybe it’s strange, but she and I have never had the option of being normal, so I don’t feel any shame about it. I take joy where I can find it. Right now, it’s in this. The simple pleasure of sitting there with her. And if I feel like moving closer to her, I don’t need to do that. I can just sit where I am. I can just watch her enjoy the movie.

I can get plenty out of her happiness.

Just being in the presence of it. Soaking it in.

She looks at me, narrows her eyes. “What are you doing?”

“Staring at you.”

“Why?”

“I need to make sure you’re real.”

Her shoulders jerk, a sharp breath sounding a little bit like a gasp. Then she looks away, sticks her hand into the popcorn bag, and starts watching the movie again.

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