Date Nineteen
“Do you like scary movies?” asked Theodore, taking a sip of red wine.
“Only if you do,” I replied, nestling into the crook of his arm.
It was Saturday night, and for the first time in years, I was not turning tables at the restaurant. After buying concert tickets to Arlo Parks, my boss graciously gave me the night off. Thrilled to see a live show again with a plus one – I was dismayed, but not entirely surprised, when the concert was canceled at the last minute. “Due to COVID-19 restrictions…”
So, pivoting our plans for the evening, Theodore invited me to his place to watch a movie. Relaxing into his couch, I could feel my temperature rise as my heart began to warm. I had feelings for this man, and I could not deny it. If I was simply smitten only a month ago, now I was emphatically enraptured.
Casting my gaze around his living room, I noticed the artwork on the walls for the first time. Unlike the Fox Den, which is decorated with movie posters and knickknacks from the Island, Theodore’s taste was much more refined. Purchased from galleries in Manhattan and San Francisco, I tried to appreciate each frame of art, and not focus on the price tag behind them.
Suddenly, my attention shifted to a knock at the front door.
“Are you expecting someone?” I asked, a touch nervously.
“Just you wait,” he answered, springing up from his seat.
Reaching for a sip of wine, I was equal parts relieved and curious when he returned with a brown paper bag.
“The main course has arrived!” he announced. “I hope you like butter.”
“Collapsing into his arms, I felt like the Boston Terrier CLARK with his belly up in the air.”
Retrieving a large stainless-steel bowl from the kitchen, he revealed the contents of the mysterious take-out bag: an extra-large serving of movie theatre popcorn.
“You ordered popcorn?” I exclaimed. I had never imagined such an event.
“You bet! Uber Eats! It’s not cheap, but it’s worth every bite.”
Resuming our cuddling position, I experienced the most wonderful sense of comfort and joy. Collapsing into his arms, I felt like the Boston Terrier CLARK with his belly up in the air.
As the movie began to play, in the silence of the opening credits, I could hear the rain beating down outside. In all my years on the Coast, I never heard rain fall as heavy as this.
“I like you very much,” I told Theodore, before stuffing a handful of popcorn into my mouth.
“I think you are really going to like this movie,” he wrapped his hand over mine, “it’s terrifying.”
…
Had I known then what I know now, I am unsure how the rest of the night would have played out. If I knew, for instance, this was going to be the last time I would see him; perhaps, I would have run out the front door instead of following him to the bedroom. And maybe, just maybe, had I known then, what I know now, I would have seen the end of this story coming all along.
That’s the thing about scary movies though. Just when you think you are safe, you never know what’s going to happen next.
