Orpheus (15 page)

On the third ring, a female voice answered. "Hey!"

Just that one word told him that Rachel was in a good mood. Maybe he had a chance, after all. "Hey, yourself. You almost ready?"

"Just finishing getting dressed. Did you look at the listings?"

He momentarily debated lying to her, but he knew that there was a very real chance that she already knew what was playing and was only testing him, so he told her.

"Hmmm...let's go see that one with The Rock. He looks all badass and hot."

Oh, I don't even care if you drool into the popcorn.
"Sweet! I totally lo-"

He stopped himself, but had no clue why.
You love her. You know you love her.
She
knows you love her. Just say it already!

She let him off the hook. "Meet at the snack bar in an hour?"

"I'll be there. Bye."

"Bye."

He pressed "End" and dropped the cell into his lap. He leaned back as far as the chair would let him, covered his face with his hands, and grunted, "You are such a pussy."

"You really are sometimes."

Ethan almost fell backwards out of his chair. He saved it with an awkward pinwheeling of his arms. He spun around and said, "You scared the crap out of me, Dad."

His father stood there with a basketball pinned against his hip. "You up for some HORSE? Or are you scared of that, too?"

Ethan bolted out of his chair and tackled his father around the waist. They fell to the floor, laughing. Ethan was twenty, athletic, and strong as an ox. He gained the upper hand and tried to put his father in a headlock. Cameron spun out of it. They locked arms. Ethan was sure he could overpower his father this time, but soon he was in a headlock of his own.

Cameron yelled "Who's your daddy?"

Ethan tried to muscle his way out of it, but failed. He felt the headlock tighten. He was finished.

"You are! Watch the hair, I have a date!"

His father released the hold and they both sat there, sucking in deep breaths.

"Curse you and your Dad strength. I'm so going to kick your ass on the court."

Twenty minutes later, they both had H-O-R-S, and it was Ethan's shot. He stood behind the backboard and was lining up his shot.

"You know I was kidding about what I said upstairs, right?"

Ethan pulled the ball back down. "About me being a pussy? I wasn't."

"You know what your problem is sometimes? You try to power your way through everything; you have no need for finesse. Upstairs, you could have slipped away from that headlock before I even came close, but you tried to go all test-of-strength on your old man, and you lost. It won't be like that forever, by the way."

"Damn right."

"Like with Rachel. She's an amazing girl, but you date like you wrestle. You do all the manly things. You open doors, pull out chairs, pay the tab, walk her to her door, you're like a bull in front of a red cape if you sense even the slightest threat to her...those are all important...but you have the worst time with the stuff that's even more important."

"Like?"

"You really want me to say it? Okay. Like telling her you miss her when she's not around, or that you can't go five minutes without talking about her...or that you love her, which everyone already knows. If she's anything like your mother, that makes it even worse for her. If she wasn't sure how you felt, she'd wait for you to get there. But she does know, so she's wondering what's wrong with her that you won't just say it."

"Hey, she could say it." Ethan started to say something else, but Cameron stopped him with a glare.

"I won't even dignify that with a response."

"You just did."

"Boy, this is why you get put in headlocks all the time." He sipped from the water bottle and took his time swallowing it. "Do you know what my biggest regret is? Not telling your mother that I loved her as soon as I knew it."

"Uh, Dad, you've been married forever. You're, like, the perfect couple that everyone secretly hates because you're soooo in love with each other."

"But what if it never got to that? I don't want to be morbid, but what if something happened to me before I could say it? Or worse, to her?"

"I see your point. And I want to, I do, but every time I try to I just freeze."

"Well, you need to get over that shit. You know when I told your mother? She was sick with a bug, so I ran to Wal-mart, at two in the freakin' morning, to get her some medicine. I brought it to her, and she asked me in between puking fits how I could have gotten out of bed to do that for her, especially when I had to be at work early the next morning. I didn't know what I was going to say until it came out. I just said, 'Because I love you.' Ball game."

"Wow, that's romantic."

"In hindsight, yes it is, wiseass."

"Okay, I'll do it."

"When?"

"Soon."

"Tonight."

"At the movies? That's even less romantic than your puke story."

"You're my son, but you're your own man. I can't make you do it, Ethan. I wouldn't want to. Now let's see what you got."

Ethan stepped behind the backboard again, lined up his shot, and sent the ball in a smooth, high arc over the backboard and through, the ball just grazing the rim.

He grabbed the ball and handed it to his father, who said, "You remember that I taught you that shot, right? That's my shot. Patent pending."

"Your powers are weak, old man."

"We'll see about that."
Swish.

Ethan looked at his watch. "Crap, I have to get going."

"Now you know how much I hate ties. Tell you what: the fifty in my wallet says you can't do it again."

"You're on." Ethan stepped to the same spot, spun the ball between his hands, and shot. The ball clipped the front of the rim and rattled around before falling through. He pumped his fist, excited at the extra cash he'd have for his date.

"Good job. It wasn't perfect, but it counted just as much."

"Thanks, Dad. By the way, where's your wallet?"

"Kitchen table. Would you mind dropping your mother off at the hair place? I need to fix the sump pump before we get that rain. I can pick her up."

"No problem!" Ethan yelled as he jogged into the house, unaware that he'd just been finessed.

"And don't tell her I gave you that!"

* * *

Ethan double-parked a few doors down from the hair salon. Jackie Holt leaned over and kissed her son on the cheek. "Have fun, sweetie," she said as she pushed a couple of twenties into his hand. She closed the car door and leaned on the open window. "Don't tell your father I gave you that."

"I won't. Thanks, Mom."

She waved and walked towards the salon. As he drove away, he looked in his rearview mirror and noticed that she had stopped at the window of an antique shop. It was still a little early for her appointment, so Ethan figured that she'd be coming home with an antique jewelry box or towel rack or something else that would make her husband shake his head.

The trip to the movie theater was short, but it was a beautiful Saturday and downtown was busy. There were no parking spots available anywhere near the theater; he ended up parking six blocks down at the laundromat. He didn't think he'd get a ticket, but if he did, he had an extra ninety bucks burning a hole in his pocket, anyway. As he walked, he texted Rachel that he was on his way. He strolled more than walked to the theater. He had some things to think about.

Lost inside his own head, he almost didn't notice the first drops of gentle rain that fell on him. He knew that a big storm was coming, but its precursor was actually enjoyable. He lifted his head slightly and enjoyed the sporadic drops of warm rain on his face. He just kept putting one foot in front of the other. In no time at all, the marquee was in sight.

Rachel stood underneath it, looking side to side, presumably for him. She hadn't noticed him yet, so he took her in, feeling only a little like a voyeur. She was dressed for a casual summer night in blue jeans and a snug top. He stared at her as he walked, and she noticed him when he got within fifty feet of her. She smiled, and he thought,
Dad's right. This is the night.

She greeted him with a kiss. Her lips were soft and very inviting. He felt a familiar stirring within that wasn't entirely sexual. They had been active for the better part of a year now, but the knowledge that he was going to take the next gigantic step in their relationship made Ethan think that particular kiss might have been their most intimate moment yet.

She pulled away from him, held up two tickets, and said, "I so want popcorn." She slid her right hand into his left and led him inside. On the way to the concession stand, Ethan noticed that he and Rachel were between a camera and whatever the guy was shooting, so he ducked aside and said, "Sorry, brutha." They loaded up on popcorn, Raisinets, nonpareils, and the obligatory Diet Cokes. Bounty in hand, they handed their tickets to the attendant and walked into Theater 4. She led him to the front row of the raised seating; they both liked to put their feet up on the railing, and Ethan knew pretty much everyone who worked there, so they never had any trouble.

The previews had just started when Ethan's cell phone buzzed. He opened the text: "look behind you." He looked in the rows behind them but saw no one. He didn't recognize the number so he just chalked it up to a mistake when he saw movement above him. Someone in the projector room was waving to him.

Rachel saw where Ethan was looking and followed his gaze. She squinted in the dim light. "Is that JD?"

"I think so. I'll go see what he wants."

He walked to the back of the theater and asked, "Hey, what's up?"

A few patrons
shushed
him, and he mumbled an apology.

JD said, "You guys want to watch it up here?"

"I'm in, but let me check."

Sixty seconds later they were sitting in the projectionist's booth. They had a great view of the screen, incredible sound, and a ton of leg room.

"Thanks for insulating us from the common folk, JD," Ethan joked.

"Anytime, bro. To be honest, I just wanted your girl to come up, but I couldn't figure out how to get her away from you."

Rachel laughed. "Hey, you had your chance when we were in second grade. But you blew it when you put wet fingerpaints on my seat. Ethan's just my rebound guy."

Ethan threw a popcorn kernel at her, but it went wide. "I'm right here!"

"How's UNH?"

"Hold on one sec." JD spoke into his radio. "Show's about to start, Sully."

"Okay. I'll do a walkthrough in twenty or so."

"Right on." JD put the radio back into its charging cradle. "Not bad. I actually made Dean's List this semester, no idea how. I know you two live on that thing, but it's a big deal for my 'rents."

"No, that's awesome, dude. I always knew you had an inner nerd just dying to get out."

"Eat me. Aaaaaaand," JD flipped a few switches. "...here we go." The main attraction started on the big screen. JD flipped the light switch and the projectionist's room was thrown into darkness, save for the glow from his computer monitor. Flaming credits flashed across the screen, and the action began right away.

During a scene where a rogue alien was warning the human race about the upcoming invasion, Ethan saw the attendant whom JD had been talking to, Sully, walk into the theater. His flashlight bobbed back and forth down the aisle. He walked all the way to the front, across the first row, and headed back up the other way. He stopped several rows from the back and appeared to be talking to a patron. Ethan saw the unmistakable glow of a cell phone and assumed that Sully was asking the man to put it away. The glow disappeared and Sully, apparently satisfied, continued on his way. Four minutes and eight seconds later, Cell Phone Guy had his throat ripped out by the woman sitting directly next to him.

* * *

Jen Stone handed her brother's cell phone back to him. "Got it, thanks. I tell you, I've got to get a new cell phone; having a web browser is awesome."

"Welcome to 2002, El."

She stuck her tongue out at him, but he wasn't looking. He was talking to the usher, who had apparently stopped by to chastise him for using his phone. Jen smiled to herself, the thought of him taking the heat for something she did yet again very funny to her.

Bart put the cell phone in his pocket without a word. He did, however, dig his elbow into her side and she jumped.

The movie continued.

Jen felt a tickle in her throat and took a sip of her lemonade. She could barely taste it. It was already pretty weak (it was, after all, a movie drink) but it seemed even more bland to her than it had just a few minutes previous. She tried to concentrate on the movie for a while, but it really started to bother her. She took another sip; the tickle persisted. She chalked it up to her allergies and thought that maybe some pollen was working its way through the movie's ventilation system. It wouldn't be the first time. She'd just take an allergy pill and be fine. Her purse was on the floor between her feet. She bent over and rested her forehead against the back of the empty seat in front of her. She knew exactly where the pills were, and her fingers found and worked the zipper unerringly. As they closed around the pill bottle, Jen felt a throbbing in her head that quickly turned to excruciating pain. She tried to raise her head but couldn't will herself to. She was in agony, but couldn't cry out. Her breathing became rapid and shallow, until, in the middle of one sharp breath, it stopped altogether.