Page 46 of This I Know
I allow a smile to play at the corner of my mouth. I guess a part of me, deep down and way hidden, is excited to be finally getting out, after all.
I take my seat. The chairs are uncomfortable. I squish my back deeper against them. Oh well. This could be worse; at least they’re clean and not covered with splotches of gum or mysterious stains. I can never bring myself to sit on those.
Mara’s sitting next to me, and next to her is Camille. There’s one other girl with us, a friend of Camille’s who I haven’t met before. We’re seeing a romantic comedy, which is good. I don’t think it I’d be able to take it if I had to watch another Tom Hanks heartbreaker.
Being here brings back memories. How could it not? The last time I sat in these seats was just before my life changed forever. The sensations, the sounds … even the sticky, buttery smell of the place makes me feel sick to my stomach. I take a sip of soda; the carbonation calms my belly.
“This’ll be fun,” Mara says, scrunching her face and clutching the arm of the chair.
I smile and nod.
I think it’s about to start. Just as I’m squinting my eyes toward the screen, the lights dim around us.
And my heart starts to race.
The screen flickers and lights up, illuminating his face in the darkness. At least, what I imagine his face to be. That is, the scariest, most evil-looking thing my traumatized mind can conjure up.
In an instant, the moisture disappears from my throat and mouth.
I lean over and take a sip from my straw, but it does nothing. As soon as I swallow, my mouth dries again. The previews begin. I bounce my leg up and down.
“Are you okay?” Mara whispers.
I nod. “I just need some air.”
As quickly as the symptoms came on, I’m up, out of my seat and flying down the theater’s stairs. I burst through the door and I’m in the lobby, out of the darkness.
I lean my hands on my knees, breathing heavily, trying not to draw attention to myself.
“Did you fall?” someone says.
Damn. It didn’t work.
I rise, placing my hands on my hips and breathing deeply. “I’m–”
I stop. I was about to say that I’m okay. But since Ethan is standing in front of me, I’m not.
“You,” I say.
“Me.”
“I mean – hi,” I say, turning to him in automated response, sounding too chipper and goofy to be any kind of sexy.
“What are you doing here?”
He laughs and looks around. “It’s a public place, isn’t it?” When I don’t answer, he tilts his head and leans closer. “Did you fall?”
I almost take offense. Except he’s not teasing, not mocking in any way. He talks with kindness and optimism and patience – he’s worried. He’s actually worried about me.
“No,” I say defensively. “I didn’t fall.” I thumb over my shoulder. “I’m here with my friends. I just … needed some air.”
“I’m here with some friends, too.”
“Ethan?” Julia Crane stops at Ethan’s side. She’s taller than I remember, and when I glance down I see it’s because of the heels she has on.
Who wears heels to a movie theater?
She eyes me viciously; I’m surprised she doesn’t put her hand on his shoulder and flash an engagement ring.
