| Geek Chic |
[02 Aug 2008|02:53am] |
One thing that Francess had always wanted was a movie buddy.
During her time spent at the Logan Theatre, she saw those types of friends. They arrived in pairs or groups and purchased their tickets separately, yet they sat together, shared one another’s overpriced snacks, and left the cinema chattering their heads off about whatever they’d seen. As they blew past her at the door, she often wished she could call out, ‘Wait up!’ and be part of those conversations, especially when the film was a juicy sort.
After the really great stories, Fran’s colorful imagination would feel as if it were on fire, and she’d rush home to relay the details to her parents. But they, having never seen the films or had much interest in shows outside of Survivor, merely nodded at the proper places and gave their daughter indulgent smiles. Fran certainly wasn’t dumb; she knew when she was being placated, but could not help herself from continuing it anyway, because whether or not they were able to respond in kind, they listened.
When the call came from Avery, she read him a list of times when they could see Redemption -- the one with Willem Dafoe – and let him pick, secretly hoping he might select a matinee so she could avoid her curious coworkers, but she had no such luck. Later on, as she stood on the sidewalk with their tickets in hand, she felt quite strange to be at the theatre in her regular clothes, and at first worried that he might not recognize her in the outfit she selected: a sweater and skirt, argyle socks, and brown shoes. Though possibly just as drab as her uniform, it was mercifully absent the masculinity of the trousers, blouse, and vest.
Just why she should worry over her outfit, she didn’t allow herself to speculate about.
But he did recognize her. Throughout the film, Francess occasionally chewed a hangnail on her thumb and tried not to glance his way overly much. She kept her knees pressed tightly together and her hands squeezed between them for so long, her fingers went numb from the knuckle down to the tips.
Avery was full of gratitude. If there was one thing he needed after the disaster that was the previous evening, it was a distraction. Luckily, Redemption offered just that. It was a sweeping sort of movie, well-scripted and acted. It made him long for the classics all over again. It was just a pale shadow of intensely beautiful stories of love and pain, but it was enough.
Throughout the film he had kept his hands at his sides like a gentleman, only moving to sip from the wax-coated paper cup filled with Coca Cola, his one concession to normalcy. He also missed the glass bottles.
He had worn the same outfit as the night before: black pants, blue t-shirt and black cardigan sweater. He switched from his faded One Stars, however, to a less battered pair of grey trainers. When the movie was finished, and he had taken in the end of the cinematic score and closing credits, he stood and offered a friendly hand to help Francess stand as well.
The brunette’s first thought upon seeing it outstretched was that her own palm was wet from the condensation on her cup. What if he thought her hands were sweaty? She tried to discreetly dry it while smoothing her skirt into place and then took Avery’s hand. Because her skin was cold from the drink, she didn’t notice his was at room temperature.
“Thanks,” she said and pulled herself up. The seat flipped into attention behind her thighs and fluffed her hem. Fran fought the urge to twist her torso and make sure her underwear weren’t showing.
As they slowly exited the theatre amongst the milling, chattering crowd, Avery flashed Francess a grin. "So," he said, "what did you think of the film?" He usually waited to hear someone else's opinions first before chiming in with ones of his own; he had always been that way. Part of it was fear he'd say something stupid that the other person disagreed with. It may have been slightly ingenuine, but he couldn't bring himself to break the habit.
( Be Cool )
( Fly-kenstein )
|
|