Coming Home To You. Liesel Schmidt
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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