Seen on the Silver Screen

Me and Bob hustle into the movie theater long after its gone dark, having missed the movie we were really trying to see for… *ahem* “stuff”.

We try in as much as we can to not disturb anyone as we climb all the way to the top. We pass a couple more enraputred with each other than the previews on the screen and Bob turns and says to me, not at all discreetly, “They’ll be fuckin’ before the lights go off all the way.”I try not to roll down the stadium seats in front of me while I bend over laughing.

We settle on seats in the middle with no one sitting in front of us, which I appreciate because I’m little. Although Bob never has to worry about not being able to see over the heads of the people in front of us, I appreciate the pocket size person consideration. We sit, lift the arm rest and cuddle and talk as our interest in the previews ebb and flow.

“So baby what is it exactly that you wanna do? You wanna do more theater or you wanna be like in movies and stuff?”
“Um… all of it. Yeah,” I respond quietly, cringing just a little because usually when I have this conversation with someone it is swiftly followed by a rude request to break into a song and dance routine on the spot that, in my younger days, left me feeling guilty for not carrying Broadway calibre lighting and sound equipment in my back pocket.
“I could see that mama. You’ve always wanted to?”
“Yeah. Since I was little. Its the only thing I ever remember wanting to do that didn’t change with the seasons.”
“So why aren’t you?” I shrug, hoping I come off as unconcerned when in reality I wonder everyday if I am wasting my time and talent.
Punctuated with light kisses on my forehead, Bob says to me, “You can do it.”
“You’ve never even seen me perform.”
“You can do it.”

The previews end and the theater goes completely dark, but not before I glance over at the couple at the end of our row and make out what may or may not be pants being unbuttoned. Jesus.

We sit, talking in low tones and giggling for much of the opening credits, passing the flask we smuggled in back and forth between us. I lean in, trying to get warm, settling in the nook. Bob leans over deliberately during one flask pass.

“You see it baby?”
“See what?” I ask all confused.
“Your name up there.” I say nothing, just smile slightly, my head bowed. “I see it. In red. Your name has gotta be in red. I see it.”

I bite my lip hard and pretend to be concentrating intently on the opening scenes of the movie until Bob gasps beside me.

“Look baby! There you are!” Bob says, more excited than a little kid, semi crooked smile wide, pointing at the screen. “And right there too. Baby look at you! You see you in the movies?”

I grab the hand outstretched at the screen, lace our fingers, and curl up tighter at Bob’s side. I’m smiling wide, wider than I have in awhile, but I am thankful for the theater being dark so no one can see my tears.