by Daniel Gene Barkley

She had become jaded by the many years of false promises and crushed hopes. She would go alone to the movies to watch the latest romance lighting up the screen. She’d sit in the middle of the theater amongst the naive couples, each smiling and falling further into what they thought was love. What did they know of love any way? Big white, doctored smiles projected in a dark room, holding hands on a park bench on a chilly autumn afternoon. She would divide her time between actually watching the movie and trying to look through the audience. She would make wagers with herself on which couple she thought would be the first to disassemble.

She had not always been so jaded. Disenchantment like hers is not something one obtains over night. It must be crafted and honed, developed and built upon in such a way that when it all comes tumbling down (and it always comes tumbling down), it lands with such a combustible force that all its materials ignite into flames. Like heartburn, true heart burn. She had lived with that fire roaring in her for so long now it had become her. She had a great way of melting all things beautiful, rendering them to a red, syrupy mess. Friends, family, they all stayed away. Fire needs fuel, lots of fuel, and her fire was no exception. The movie theater trips were just a way of fanning the flame.

She saw one young couple sharing candies. He’d take one out of the colorful bag and she’d open her mouth. He’d put it on her wanting lips, pausing a moment and just as she could taste it, he’d pull it back from her. Teasing her. Luring her. She’d sit there a moment or two, eyes closed, enjoying the tease. The girl opened her eyes just in time to see him smugly popping the candy in his mouth. That’s when the girl made her move, she dove in taking both sides of his face in her hands and kissed him, their heads framed by a very similar seen on the screen. (Corny always seems to inspire corny.) As the two separated, the guy still in a daze, the girl opened her mouth to show the candy clenched between her teeth. They smiled.

She had become very jaded. She knew that such cutesy behavior wouldn’t last. It couldn’t if they were going to have anything serious, anything beyond the flirt. She knew all too well how quickly things fade. How fast sharing candy becomes separate candies that become no candies and no movies until both people sit alone so tired and bored that they just become sick by the mere presence of each other. How one day, the thought, “He has an incredible ass” is replaced with, “God, he’s an incredible asshole.”

She looked around the dim theater surveying, looking for another couple. The right couple, the ones on the verge of popping like over-blown bubblegum that leaves its sticky, gooey mess on anyone not smart enough to have moved away. Finding them would have made her whole night. This went beyond mere hobby. This was oxygen to her fire. It was sick validation of her perverse course.

Off to one far side, she could make out an older couple. She pegged them to be in their mid-fifties. They were both watching the movie. They were sitting apart, arms next to each other but never touching. He had the bucket of popcorn and she had her allotment in a brown cardboard drink holder. One soda sat between them, a super large so they wouldn’t have to get up. Once this couple sits, she knew, they stay sitting. His wife adjusted herself in her seat; shaking his, he gave her a look. She was dressed up, nice but casual. A flower blouse, with a wild pattern, black polyester pants, elastic waistband. Her fake pearl and gold plated earrings sparkled just a bit; she had the look of a woman that used to be quite sensual. She had done her best to look nice but not sexy. No, sexy died a long time ago, part of growing and aging. She still had her mind though, quick as ever. He was in his nicer jeans, the ones with no holes. The top button of his soft maroon shirt was unbuttoned. His only ring, a wedding ring. He was oblivious. He ate his pop corn and enjoyed the cool temperature when inches from him, just tucked away, was the pumping, pulsating heart of a woman yearning to feel desire. She had been sucked into the movie, into the eyes of its romantic lead. Not because of him, not because he was handsome (which he was), but because of what she wanted for herself, a kiss in the rain, a complete disregard for anything proper and acceptable, anything age appropriate. She wanted to be exposed and vulnerable and naive. It had been so long since she had the luxury of naiveté. To share a look that meant more than a look. She knew she was going to go to the movies, to this movie, on this journey, and her husband was oblivious. He would remain so even later when they are alone and he discovers she’s wearing her silky ivory bra and black lacy satin panties that make her still feel sexy.

She had showered and shaved and lotioned her whole body. She had put just a drop of perfume on all the right spots and wore her fake pearl earrings. Even when he quickly removes her bra and casts it to the bedroom floor without any regard, when he undoes all of her procedures, when he gets her naked and all the mystery dissolves, not even then will he know why she has done all that and why she is ultimately so alone. Even when his head is inches from her pounding heart he won’t hear it.

The leading man on screen was holding his lover after discovering she had ingested a bottle of sleeping pills. He was crying. The man in his nicer jeans took a big sip of his coke.

She was jaded. She knew that couple too well; they were not going to pop. No, their end would be a fizzle much like his ever-flattening watered down coke. It would just eventually lose all flavor.

The woman in the movie was rushed to a hospital in an ambulance; the man with her, holding her hand the whole way. Who would believe such a ridiculous movie? She was so very jaded. She let out a quiet laugh. It was just like a man though, she thought to herself, to drive you to taking a whole bottle of pills only to make a scene of it for himself later by holding your hand and acting like a damn human being. Too little, too late. Did the script-writer really think anyone would fall for that? Did he think so little of the audience that he thought he could just bat the viewers around like mice? Stupid blind tailless mice? All the drama, set just to string along gullible romantics.

In the beginning of the movie, the couple meets unexpectedly. They don’t like each other at first. Why would they, they’re both obnoxious? We are supposed to think they are quirky, but obnoxious is the correct word. But they discover they are more than just their offbeat facades. She comes to visit her sister who is dying of cancer at the hospital only to hear a voice she recognizes. She follows it down to the children’s cancer ward to discover him there: reading the children stories, making them balloon animals, playing them songs on his acoustic guitar, giving them piggy back rides, making them snow cones… and whatever other ridiculous unbelievably pandering thing he could be doing to make him seem so sweet and caring that she falls for him that very moment. They come together, then things turn sour. They fall apart. They find each other’s quirks annoying. A gap builds between them. And then, just when he’s is going to tell her he’s leaving, he discovers her, on the floor full of sleeping pills. He cries. We know he needs her. We cry. We need her. Will she be okay? Of course she will — it’s a damn movie.

She was jaded. Where? Where was the couple that would explode? Where was her oxygen? They were here somewhere — she just had to un-focus. Let her eyes relax; the couple would make themselves known. They must. The fire roared up like magma turned to lava. She looked around — the first aisle, the second, the back row. Many couples, many lovers.

She looked and looked until she found a man sitting alone. He was a bit disheveled, a bit homely. Not the most handsome man. Someone you wouldn’t be surprised to find sitting alone anywhere else, but in a movie for lovers? This movie theater was a transporter for lonely women. Why then was he here, alone? She thought a moment, about how she was alone. How she had felt alone for some time.

That was something by choice though. She could be here with someone if she wanted. She could be sharing candies and Cokes. She was alone because she knew better. She was jaded, she was aware; she would no longer be duped by the mischievous Eros. But none of that did anything to help her shake the loneliness.

The lady on the screen lay in a hospital bed. She hadn’t moved. Her eyes were closed. The man in her room was balled up in a chair looking as if he hadn’t left for days. He walked over to her side and touched her arm. Hoping to make contact. He started to cry, soft fragile tears that swelled up in his eyes till they spilled over and down his cheek. He was trying to be strong.

The jaded woman looked around the room, again surprised that people were even buying this junk. She saw the young couple that was sharing candies, now transfixed on the screen. She saw the other couple, the man in his nice jeans and the woman in the gold plated fake pearl earrings. They were all transfixed.

On screen, the doctor comes in the room. The man doesn’t stop touching the woman’s arm. “Well doc, how will it be? Will she be ok?”  The doctor starts to explain about her condition, about her coma.

The theater seems really dark. Darker than before. Everybody is hanging on the edge of their seat. The tension is stiff, thick. The script-writer has everyone right where he wants them. He has them caring. What a vulnerable place to be, to feel helpless. To feel like all you can do is watch the events of life unfold. To know it’s already all been decided and you’re just along for the show. Will it pay off? Will the journey have been worth it? If I walk away, will I walk away with something? If I were given another chance would I change it?

The doctor tries to comfort the man. It’s hard to comfort when all you have is bad news. He says they are trying to make her as comfortable as she can be. The man asks the doctor where she is. He says he knows she’s lying on a bed next to him, but in her mind where is she? Can she hear him? Can she feel him? The doctor tries his best to explain just how little is actually known about her state of being. He tells the young man not to give up trying, that medicine doesn’t have all the answers. Touch her, talk to her; she is in there somewhere.

The jaded woman adjusted herself in her theater seat. She had a very uneasy feeling. Something wasn’t right. There was something very familiar about it all, about these couples. The doctor’s pager went off. He apologized, saying he had to check on another patient. The man asked him to wait, to explain again – everything  was happening so quickly.

The theater was silent. The only sound was that of the confused crying man projected forty feet on the screen. The lady with the fake pearl earrings turned away. She couldn’t bear to look any longer. She was crying. She turned her head to the side, towards the man sitting next to her. She could see he felt it too. By just a subtle change in his demeanor, in a way only someone so familiar, someone so attached to him could know. And that was when the jaded woman got a really good look at her face. It couldn’t be, the clothes, the man — it just could not be. It was not even possible. Must have been a trick of the emotions. There was no way.

The crying lady’s face was her own. Her stomach sank. She lost her breath. Her eyes darted to the younger couple. Why hadn’t she realized before? The girl was so young. So full of life. She hadn’t noticed that it was her, a long time ago. The whole room seemed almost frozen. She could hardly breathe.

On the screen, the man in the hospital is suddenly alerted by the sound of the machines next to the bed going off. He panics and screams for a nurse. The jaded woman in the theater looks around. Front row, second row, back row. This is not possible. They are all her, with different people. She when she was younger, when she was happy. A fleeting moment sits next to her indifference; her apathy munching popcorn in the back, desire sits hot next to a cold man. Amongst the candies and cokes and snacks, her whole being is played out. Some of them are memories and some possibilities. Was she the real one then? Who was she? She was jaded.

The man on screen stands in the back of the hospital room. He is pushed back by all the rushing nurses and doctors. They all wear very concerned concentrated faces. One grabs a needle, another a tube. One nurse drops something; another assists a doctor who is readying paddles. It is pure chaotic ballet.

She feels the fire burst inside her chest. She can handle this. She can live with this. It is a sensation. It is feeling. For the first time in a long time, she is feeling something other than anger, like someone had untwisted all the rage, and now she could see clearly. She remembered again the man who was sitting alone. The disheveled man, what about him? Who was he? How did he fit? She looked over toward him. He was staring at her, stone cold, with a large grin. She tried to look away, but her eyes were locked on his. He somehow compelled her. She felt pulled in by him. She had never seen him before, but she knew he wasn’t there by accident. Had she imagined him? No, it felt quite the opposite — like he knew more about her than she ever could. He scared her worse than anything else happening. Their eyes still locked.

It was he that broke the stare. He got up, almost in slow motion, and headed toward the doors that led to the lobby. She followed him the whole way with her eyes. Just as he got to the set of double doors he turned around and took in the whole theater. He looked at her one last time and waved goodbye. She tried to scream but nothing came out. Or maybe she did scream and no one heard her. She tried to get the attention of someone else in the room, the candy boy, and the man in the jeans, but they were all gone now. She was alone in the theater. All the seats except hers were empty. It was just she and the crying man on the screen. What had she done? Why? With a trembling voice he says, “I don’t know if you can hear me. I don’t even know where you are. But if you can hear me, I love you.”  The lights fade. Her fire now, just embers. She is jaded no more.