I had seen a pay phone in front of the theater. It was tempting to march outside and call my parents. I glanced at my watch. There was still enough time before The Defenders to pick me up. But that would be admitting a series of mistakes. Going out with Robbie. Dating. Being born. The list was endless. Instead I sidestepped my way down the row of seats careful not touch a cushion or an arm rest. Then I pushed open the double doors and headed to the lobby.
Sitting on a stool in back of the candy counter was a guy reading. His head was down, his index finger following the lines of his book. He popped off the stool when I got closer.
“Can I help you?”
He looked around the same age as my brother. The scraggly beard. The spray of pimples over his cheeks. He wore a button down shirt and pair of blue jeans. A pen peeked out his pocket. He looked pretty normal considering the environment.
“A coke and a popcorn please.”
I was starving. I had hoped that Robbie would spring for dinner. Another bad assumption.
He put my food on the counter as well as the change. Then he waited for me to leave. Instead I just stood there. My feet felt glued.
“I think you’re missing your movie,” he said.
I glanced toward the double doors. “I saw it five years ago.” I sipped my coke. “It was stupid then, and I doubt it’s gotten any better.”
He pointed to another swivel seat behind the counter. “You’re welcome to sit, if you want.”
I looked around. The phone in the booth outside was off the hook, the receiver dangling. I glanced toward the double doors. King Kong must have been let out of his cage. The floors were vibrating. Thunk Thunk Thunk.
The stool felt like a death sentence reprieve. I turned to the candy counter guy. “Thanks. But don’t let me bother you, okay? If you feel like reading, go ahead and read. I don’t want to be in the way. I hate being in the way. I’m invisible. Go ahead. Read. Do your thing. I’m not even here.”
He opened his book.
“Are you, like, in college? My brother and sister are in college. But I’m going out of state. Yes sirree. I’m getting outttt offf heerre.” The words flew out, bubbling in little cartoon blurbs over my head.
He closed his book. “You know, not everybody can afford to go away to school.”
I noticed that his eyes were blue like Robbie’s. Only these looked intelligent.
“I’m reading Hard Times,” I sputtered. “Do you like Dickens? It’s okay but not great. I was really hoping it would be great.”
“David Copperfield is better. Wait until you get older and get to the good stuff.” He held up his book. “Dostoyevsky, for instance. This is the good stuff.”
I made a mental note of the title. Notes from the Underground.
“When you get to college, take Russian Lit.” He smiled and looked sideways, like he was sharing a secret. “The books are incredibly dense and difficult. But they’re wonderful. Amazing. Life changing.”
All of a sudden, I forgot I was in a crummy movie theater in a bad neighborhood with an idiot boyfriend. The air seemed to get lighter. I sat up straighter and patted down my dress. I was being treated like an adult by an adult. It was a novelty I wasn’t used to.
“You see all this?” He pointed to the double doors, the phone booth, the cracked linoleum on the floor. “This doesn’t have to be your reality. You can make up your own world. Your own reality. Some people do drugs. Some people watch movies. I read.”
It was like getting hit by lightning. The words burrowed deep, planting little seeds in my brain. I was a straight A student, a kid who colored inside the lines. Suddenly the portal to an alternative universe opened. Gravity became nonexistent. I was beholden to no one, no longer anchored by constraints or expectations. My me had become redefined.
Instead of returning to my seat, I stayed behind the candy counter. Sometimes the guy read. Sometimes he talked. Sometimes I talked while he read. Robbie emerged two hours later, blinking his eyes and working the cramps out of his long legs. As usual, he was clueless.
“You’ve been in the bathroom all this time?”
“Boy, you missed all the good parts!”