Читать книгу Coming Home To You - Liesel Schmidt - Страница 12

Chapter 4

It was time.

It was time, and I could do this.

I was doing this.

Millions of people all over the world did this every day without giving it a second thought, yet here I was—paralyzed.

I was standing in line at the movie theater, alone.

All alone.

In a long, snake-like line of people that seemed to have no end.

Alone.

In line to buy a single ticket to sit alone in a darkened theater full of people who didn’t give me a thought.

All alone.

Did I really want to do this?

No, Zoë, you don’t. But you also don’t want to have to spend the rest of your life without ever going to see a movie in the theater. It wasn’t fair to put those kinds of restrictions on my life. After all, there was no guarantee.

No guarantee that I would find a friend to go with me. No guarantee that I would ever have someone—my someone—to sit with me through a movie, holding my hand or draping an arm cozily around my shoulders.

So it was time to do this, to take the step and get it over with. To acknowledge all the grown-up facts of life: life goes on, and this was simply a movie. Nothing to be afraid of.

Right?

“Please tell me you have a box of Goobers in that gigantic purse of yours, or I’m going to have to conclude that you are a complete theater novice.” There was a familiar voice behind me, so startling that at first I couldn’t place the speaker. I felt a rush of relief that warmed me almost to my toes, an unexpected surge of emotion that tickled my nose with tears. An uncontrollable grin broke my focused scowl, and I turned around to face Ray.

Ray, my unexpected savior. There was absolutely nothing even remotely romantic between us, but at that moment, I could have kissed him. The simple sight of him made me want to clap my hands in childish glee.

“What are you doing here?”

I realized the pitch of my voice was borderline squeal, but I couldn’t help it. My relief was indescribable; and grown-up, composed Zoë did a swan dive right off the top of the theater marquee into the kiddie pool. If I didn’t watch it, I might actually grab his hands and start jumping up and down like a sugared-up tween at a boy band concert.

Not exactly the image I wanted to portray. I realized far too late that my reaction to seeing him here, at the theater, was illogical. It was probably a one-in-a-million shot that we had chosen the same movie, so our encounter was not only chance, but very likely only fleeting.

Maybe he was meeting a date.

“I had the evening off, so I thought I’d try to catch a movie.” He paused and flicked a glance at the movie schedule posted in the box office window behind me. “Not really sure what’s playing; but I live close-by, so I figured I’d run by and see. And lo and behold,” Ray finished with a smile.

“Serendipity,” I said, blushing with pleasure.

“Ooh, breaking out the big words,” he laughed, shifting his gaze from my face to sweep the crowd around us.

“Are you meeting someone here? Is Kate with you?” His voice was utterly guileless, no suggestion that he was fishing for an invitation. It was simple curiosity, simple friendliness.

I shook my head, wondering if he would think my answer pathetic. Somehow, it seemed more acceptable for a man to see a movie alone.

But why?

Where had I gotten such a skewed perception of things? Did everyone share that opinion, or was it just me?

“No, not meeting anyone,” I replied finally.

I was almost sure he could see all of the thoughts floating around the air above my head, the way they’re drawn in comic strips.

“Nope. Just me. Alone.” I stopped, realizing the feelings I’d been battling before Ray’s appearance were edging their way out into the open.

I cleared my throat, trying to get a better handle on things.

“Um, I really just wanted to get out and see a movie, you know? It was kind of a last-minute whim, and I figured Kate would probably already have plans.” I tried to smile with more confidence than I felt.

“Besides, she’ll be going to Atlanta really soon, and I need to get used to her not being here again,” I said, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Right?” I realized I was nodding my head, likely resembling a bobblehead doll—in an unconscious attempt at convincing not only Ray of my independence, but also myself.

Self-assured, independent Zoë, deciding to go to the movies alone.

Just because.

Just like countless other people did.

“Right,” Ray said, looking a bit skeptical. “So what have you decided to see?”

“Well, I was thinking maybe that one,” I said, indicating the poster for the latest Sarah Jessica Parker movie.

“Surprise, surprise. A chick flick,” Ray chortled.

“What, you expected me to shell out ten dollars to waste the next two hours of my life watching the most mind-numbing display of improbability, explosiveness, and cringe-worthy writing in the theater?” I countered.

“I guess not,” he laughed, smiling at me for a moment. “I wouldn’t do this for just anyone, but would you like some company?”

My eyebrows shot up. “Really?”

“Why not? You’re here. I’m here. Who says we shouldn’t go together?” He shrugged. “I don’t think most people go to the movies alone by choice, Zoë. I could be wrong, but I’m pretty sure that the whole idea of going to the movies is to do it as a group activity. Solo movie watching is why we have Netflix. So that no one sees you alone in your pajamas watching sappy girlie movies and bawling your eyes out when some goon proposes to the girl in the story.” Ray grinned wickedly. “Don’t deny it—you know you do. The minute the guy pops a knee, you break out the box of tissues.” He paused and looked around shiftily before leaning in to whisper.“So do I,” he said. “And then I have pillow fights with my buddies before we braid each other’s hair.”

I reached out to swat his arm.

“Jerk.”

“Seriously, though. Why don’t you let me come with you? If nothing else, you can argue with me afterwards about how lovely the storyline was, even if it was completely implausible. Mmmkay?”

I eyed him contemplatively. Why was he always so nice to me? He hardly knew me, yet he seemed to understand me. It was an odd sort of familiarity—like someone you’ve known your whole life, even from the first moment of meeting. And Ray seemed to be exactly what I needed, there to be a friend.

Now it was up to me to let him be there.

I smiled, one that I meant.

One that I hoped could convey how much I wanted to say but didn’t really know how.

“That would be great, Ray. Really great.” I paused, widening my smile. “And seeing as I am shamefully lacking in provisions, I would love to buy you some Goobers for your trouble.”

“Sweet!” Ray said. “Now I can do my Goober dance.”

My eyes grew in horror. “You have a Goober dance?”

Ray shook his head as he took his place in line beside me. “You are so easy,” he said with a laugh.

“It’s Kate,” I said two hours later, reading the display on my ringing phone as Ray and I meandered out of the theater.

Our rom-com deficiency now sated, I couldn’t help but wonder where the evening would take us next. How was I going to untangle and gracefully make an exit without appearing rude?

I flipped it open and raised it to my ear.

“Hey, Kate, where are you?”

“Where are you?” she asked back. “There’s fifty kinds of noise in the background.” She paused for a beat. “Are you at a bar? Tell me you’re not at a bar. Your mother would kill me if she found out you went to a bar alone.”

“Hey!” I said, mildly insulted. “Why would you assume I was at a bar? And, more importantly, why are you assuming I would be there alone?”

There was a stunned silence that crackled through her end of the line.

“Okay, I know you’ve been through a lot lately, but you’re still Zoë—and the Zoë I know is hardly a barfly. So come on. Where are you?”

There was still a thin edge of uncertainty in Kate’s voice, enough for me to know that she was slightly thrown. I could almost hear the wheels grinding in her head. Had I changed enough in the year that she’d been gone that I might actually hit the bar scene to drown my sorrows?

I knew the answer to that, but she was showing faint shadows of doubt.

“Don’t worry, Kate. I’m at the movies,” I said, hoping my words would allay any amount of fear she might have. “And I’m not alone. Ray was here, so we decided to see a movie together.” I realized, as soon the sentence left my mouth, what question might follow.

“Together? A date?” Kate asked, never one to disappoint.

“No,” I snorted.

Maybe I was a little too insistent to be convincing, but I was slightly annoyed at the assumption.

Couldn’t men and women go to the movies together without everyone automatically jumping to the conclusion that it was a date? Why were people so anxious for me to start dating again, anyway? What if I wasn’t ready? What if I didn’t feel any desire for this to be a date?

I darted a glance at Ray, who seemed to be studying the movie posters on the wall with an intensity that suggested he was trying not to overhear.

Was there something wrong with me? I couldn’t help but wonder as I looked at him. He was perfectly pleasant-looking, and he was such a sweet guy. Any reasonable woman would be happy to have him as a date.

Did that mean I was unreasonable? Great. Not only was I damaged, I was unreasonable in my expectations.

I was going to die alone.

All alone.

I was right back where I’d started, when I’d first taken my place in line at the theater earlier that evening.

Alone, alone, alone.

“Zoë?” I heard Kate say.

How long had she been talking? What had I missed?

“I’m sorry, it’s hard to hear you,” I replied, hoping I was doing a sufficient job of recovering. All I really wanted to do was go home and crawl into bed with the covers pulled over my head.

“I said I’m leaving work now—they needed me to stay late—but I was hoping maybe I could talk you into meeting up with me for dinner?”

“Dinner?” I repeated.

Ray seemed to straighten his spine at the word. I wondered what might be going through his mind, if he even registered the movement. There was no hiding the fact that he’d been listening to every word.

“Yes, dinner,” Kate said. “You know—food. Restaurant. You in?”

“Well,” I hesitated, unsure of what she might say to the suggestion that was forming on my lips. “Would you mind if Ray came along?” I asked.

All pretenses had been dropped, and Ray was now facing me, his eyes searching my face for anything hinting at Kate’s answer. He looked hopeful, like a little boy waiting to hear whether his playmate can come out and play.

“No, no. That would be fun, actually. Drag him along. We can get barbecue at Billy Bob’s,” she said.

Ah, Billy Bob’s. Purveyor of the smoked-meat equivalent of crack.

I felt my stomach rumbling appreciatively in anticipation.

“Meet me there in half an hour?” Kate was clipping out her words now, and I could tell she was trying to wrap things up at the office and get out of there in as little time as possible.

There were a few voices in the background, snippets of words that I caught being sent her way, attempts to get her attention one last time before she stepped out the door.

“See you there,” I said, a small twinge of worry scratching at the happy glow that had started to wrap its way around me.

Would she be able to slow her brain down enough to really be there when she was there—or was she starting to leave already? The time Kate had left with me before she went to start her new life in Atlanta was quickly dissolving, like an Alka Seltzer tablet in a glass of hot water. It seemed to be going at an accelerated rate. Much as I hated to admit it, I was getting more and more afraid that I wouldn’t be able to cope with her leaving.

Ray stood mutely at my elbow as I shut my phone and stared at it, in a silent trance, as though its plastic form might encase the answers to questions that tumbled over one another on the static-filled lines of my brain.

“So what’d she say?” Ray asked after a respectable number of beats.

I blinked my eyes rapidly, wrenching my thoughts and focus back to where I was standing, right here with Ray in front of the theater.

In a present reality that had cast me as a young woman grieving the loss of love and wondering what the next scene would bring. Every moment of every day unscripted, fed to me line by blind line.

“Who, Kate?” I asked, realizing the stupidity of my question only after it was too late.

Yes, Kate. Of course. Who else would he be referring to?

Ray nodded, kindly sidestepping the opportunity to point out my obliviousness.

“She’s leaving work and wants to get some dinner,” I said, self-consciously tucking my hair behind my ears before dropping my phone into the deep recesses of my purse.

“Have you ever been to Billy Bob’s?” I asked, not sure that I should be hoping he’d want to come along.

Every fiber in me knew that I would never feel anything more than friendship for this man who’d unexpectedly shown up in my life, but I still wanted him there. Even after such a short time of knowing him, something told me that he was important somehow. That he would become more than just temporary. There was a bond, an indefinable network of connection that seemed to be growing between us, like roots creeping along the ground.

“What’s a Billy Bob?” Ray was grinning now, enjoying some game of his own making.

I raised an eyebrow at him, shaking my head sadly as though I was lamenting his ignorance.

“Poor, dear, Ray. How empty your life must have been up to now, if you are so unschooled in the wonders of Billy Bob’s. You’re coming with me,” I said, taking him by the sleeve and tugging him on, toward the parking lot and our cars.

“Have you had any luck convincing her yet?” Kate asked Ray as we slid into our booth at the restaurant.

She’d never been one to waste time or words tiptoeing around delicate subjects. Which made any rare attempt she made at it that much more noticeable and, consequently, that much more unsuccessful. She hauled out the big guns almost right away, without even making a minimum effort at paving the way with small talk.

Ray smiled at her—a smile, I noticed, that was not the same kind he beamed at me. This was something else. Something more. Something that telegraphed interest more than brotherly affection or simple friendship. Even in my half-blind state of grieving, I could still see that, still feel the electric current that hummed off of him when he was around her.

I looked from Ray’s face back to Kate. Did she see it? Did she feel it?

“You’ll have to forgive her, Ray. She’s about as subtle as a two-by-four,” I said, casting a baleful glance at Kate as I spoke.

“Life’s too short for subtlety, Zoë,” Kate replied, smiling unapologetically as she batted her eyelashes and turned back to Ray. “So?”

Ray didn’t look like he knew whether to blush at the attention or run away in fear. He’d never really been caught in the middle of one of our “discussions.”

Yet.

Sure, that first day at the coffee shop had given him a small taste, but Kate and I had been close enough for long enough that we weren’t afraid to tell one another what we thought. About anything, no matter how painful. Now they were both convinced that I should move into Neil’s house, but Ray seemed to think that easing into things was the most effective way of winning me over.

“Not yet, but now that you mention it,” he began, a slight hesitation in his voice. “I think Kate and I both agree that this is a really good idea for you, but you’re the one that needs to be convinced.”

I sat silently, feeling his gaze on me as he waited for my response.

How could he possibly understand everything that went along with this decision? How could he ever understand, really? It wasn’t a feeling that was communicable to someone who had never been through this before.

From where Ray was sitting, he knew nothing. He still didn’t know details. Maybe he’d been able to piece a few things together, but I had never told him the story, never told him about the life I’d lost.

Part of me was afraid of the pity, afraid that he would start to look at me differently. That was one thing I couldn’t handle, I knew. He was one of the few people who didn’t treat me like the un-merry widow.

Kate’s voice broke my reverie. “As you know, I have a million reasons for thinking you should take Ray and Neil up on the generous and ingenious offer. I can recite my litany again, if you’d like,” Kate offered gamely, taking a deep drink from the iced tea that had been delivered to our table.

“Not necessary,” I said quickly, shooting her a meaningful look. I didn’t want Kate to be the one to tell Ray my tale of woe. Not now, not yet. “I’m still thinking about it.” I was hoping to shut the conversation down and move on to other, less heavy topics.

Thankfully, the waitress came, distracting us with her tray of food. I knew I had things to think about, and time for decision-making was running out. Right now, though, I was savoring my few moments of happiness—stolen time that made it easy to pretend I was someone else, someone normal whose life had never been touched by death.