First to the Show

Chris stood next to a toy claw machine as a small girl tried to capture a Spongebob stuffed animal. He watched as she tried again and again, the claws always loosening just as it looked ready to capture it. He suddenly felt angry eyes watching him. Her dad scowled and crossed his arms. Chris quickly retreated, taking his two sodas and large popcorn to the other side of the lobby.

People of all kinds were swarming through the doors. Some looked really nice, and others looked like you'd never want to have to cross their paths. Many had weird haircuts, clothing that looked too tight or too loose, or they were obnoxiously loud. But none of them were there alone. Some were holding hands or grabbing each other by the waists and smiling. Groups of friends came in laughing about some joke he hadn't heard.

Earlier that afternoon Chris had excitedly looked over his text messages and made plans with the time he had left. He meticulously shaved his facial growth, then took a long bath. Steam covered the mirror thickly and felt good in his nostrils. He had worked long hours all week and was relieved.

His mom was happy he was getting to do something fun for himself, as she would always tell him he took life a little too seriously. She dropped him off later that afternoon, just as the sun was on the horizon in a bright orange. She smiled and reminded him she would be unable to pick him up, as she was spending time at her sisters that evening.

"Mom, not so loud!" he scolded. "What if someone hears you? I'll figure out a way home. Now get going!"

That was nearly a half hour before. He looked at the time on his phone every few seconds. The movie trailers would be starting in minutes. He squinted across the lobby as people came in, and glanced as each person left the restrooms. His soda tasted watered down and the popcorn was no longer warm. He threw the tub in the trash and got in the concession line again.When he ordered another large popcorn, he insisted she take it from the popper that he just saw finishing its cycle.

"Has someone been up here looking for someone?" he asked.

"Huh?" the girl asked. She seemed to be watching something past him.

"I was looking for someone. I just thought maybe they would have asked for me here," Chris continued.

"Why would they do that?" she asked, smacking on a piece of gum.

"Just thought so. Could I maybe get a hot dog too?"

He stood outside the door of the movie so he could hear when it began, sitting his drinks and snacks on the floor so he could check his phone and send more messages. A group of teenage boys walked in, cursing and joking about girls. Chris thought about how they must have snuck in. This was a rated R movie, and they couldn't have been over fourteen years old. The pimple faced teenager at the entrance had insisted on seeing his ID card when he came in.

"Wow, you're definitely old enough to see this movie!" he loudly exclaimed, handing his card back to him.

Chris just frowned and thought to himself how little he must be paid. And how he likely has no free time since he probably goes to High School every day before work.

The trailers started playing with muffled explosions and screaming. He sighed loudly, letting his chest expand deeply and then collapse. An employee started to close the doors and Chris gathered his snacks to go in. But he was stopped and had to juggle his food to show his ticket stub. The attendant thought he looked suspicious. Everyone always thought he looked suspicious.

When the movie had ended, Chris was the last to leave the theater. He wanted to see every last moment the screen had to offer. His hands were now empty, and his shirt was stained with butter. Another employee eager to clean the theater directed him to the exit. Chris hated him.

He waited outside on the curb for a cab to take him home. He'd never taken a cab before. He assumed he would have a ride home. He had to ask the girl at the concession stand for a phone book. The same girl he had bought the popcorn from. She acted like she didn't even known what a phone book was, but eventually found one. While he was looking through it, she motioned the theater's police officer to stand near her.

The cab finally came after nearly forty minutes of waiting in the cold and watching his breath until he couldn't see it anymore. He swallowed with a deep thirst. Even the two sodas he had earlier weren't enough. One of the drinks was a diet cola. He couldn't stand diet drinks.

The cab driver kept trying to talk to him. Chris looked out the window every time he spoke.

"So what kind of things are you interested in?" he asked.

"Nothing," Chris replied.

"Nothing? You watch sports? Or maybe play any?"

"I like to go to the movies," he said.

"What was the movie you saw tonight about?" the cab driver asked.

Chris sighed.

"It was very poor and predictable. It was about a man who meets a woman at an airport and instantly falls in love with her. Only he's already engaged to some horrible woman he doesn't feel like breaking it off with. So he keeps telling her that he can't decide what state he wants to marry her in so he can keep traveling and hopes to find the woman he fell in love with."

"That does sound lame. So does he find her?"

"Of course. But she lives right in town and works at a travel agency, and he finds her when planning the honeymoon. So he leaves the woman he's engaged too and runs off with the airport woman." Chris said unenthusiastically.

"Sounds harsh. Why did you want to see that movie?"

"I didn't. Of course."

"You have some strong cologne on there,"the cab driver said. "You must've had a nice night. You know, most of the people I pick up are stone drunk."

"Are you married?" Chris asked.

"Sure am. Third time, actually. But man, she's a good one. I don't know what I'd do without her. Got married just last year and are talking about having a kid."

"Did you meet her on the internet?"

"What, like chat rooms or something? Hell no. Just met through friends. Well, she was a friend of a friend of mines girlfriend. I don't do any of that internet dating ****."

Chris went back to the window, but the cab driver kept talking to him about his wife and all their plans. They were always making plans. There was going to be no stopping them. Just a cab driver who couldn't stop talking and his fat, chain smoking wife. Or at least that's how he imagined she would be. They were going to conquer the world together. Chris planned to conquer a pizza that night. "This is it," the cab driver said, parking along the curb.

Chris handed him a credit card.

"Cash only, buddy. Do I need to drive you to an ATM?"

"Maybe so. Where is the nearest one?" Chris asked sourly.

"There's a bank down 35th street. It's gonna cost ya there and back though," the cab driver replied.

"That's right next to the theater," Chris sighed.

"The meter is running. Just let me know, pal."

Chris wished it was warmer so he could hear the sounds crickets and cicadas, but only heard cold gusts of wind through naked branches. He looked at his phone and still saw no messages. No missed calls.

"Just take me back to the theater. It's still early. Another movie sounds good."

They drove back silently, the lights of lamp posts and store signs shining into the windows, alternating with dark and empty streets.

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