The Cure

Chapter 3

Nathaniel waited outside the cinema, feeling his heartbeat in his stomach. The November air was bitterly cold; he burrowed deeper into his scarf and pulled his heavy wool coat about him. It had rained, and car headlights glanced over the puddles and the tyres shattered them with a splashing roar and the after-workers streamed by, anxious to get home. Exhaust fumes shimmered red against brake lights into the air.

It was half-past six and already dark, and he listened to the impatient patter of feet against the pavement, struggling to swallow.

His mouth was dry.

He couldn't for the life of him imagine why people put themselves through this kind of torment.

He smelt the popcorn coming from inside, and the people who were now filtering out of the last film had red cheeks and big smiles and were chattering and gesturing animatedly. He wondered if they had been similarly strict-faced and sullen just two hours before, awaiting their date like a schoolchild at the gate at the end of the day, looking expectantly about for their mum.

Jesus, he thought. Never again.

'Sorry I'm late!' The arm had been flung about him before he saw her, and first there was red hair in his eyes and a millisecond later, a huge waft of fruity perfume doused his senses; she pulled back, glittering teeth shuddering against the cold behind the omnipresent smile, and he thought distantly that he hadn't embraced her back, 'traffic was a nightmare!'

She curled her arm through his. 'Come on,' and tugging, led him into the cinema foyer.

The carpet was blue and red and black striped, and the walls were red and it was loud, and he shrugged for too long when she asked about his popcorn preferences – he wasn't being difficult, he just really didn't have one – so she finally ordered sweet with another glittering smile.

She preferred sweet. She was stunningly sweet.

Cinema for a first date, he thought numbly as they settled down in front of a nondescript romance film, feeling with a guilty tug to his stomach that he'd rather be face to face with the pile of coursework on his desk at home. For the next two hours, they would sit next to one another in silence. He chewed his popcorn with what seemed to be the beginnings of irritation. What a waste of time.

As if hearing his thoughts, Rosie twined her well-manicured fingers through his, and he saw her teeth sparkle in the darkness, and he smiled back, kindly.

They left the auditorium still hand in hand, and he avoided her gaze as steadily as he had done for the last two hours as they walked outside, hit by the icy wall of outdoor air and bracing themselves in unison.

'Let's go get a drink,' Rosie decided loudly, still effervescing with the rose-tinted effects of the film and its promising music. 'There's a great bar across the way.'

Three hasty beers and the discovery of common ground allowed Nathaniel to loosen up, finally, and he smiled his first real smile under a strange, decorative neon sign, as they sipped their drinks, tête-à-tête, her hand carefully placed beside the old champagne bottle doubling as a candle holder.

'I've never been here – it's a cool place,' he nodded, the candlelight dancing in his eyes only serving to render them darker. The warm lazy lull of alcohol bathed him softly as she nodded her energetic reply.

'Seriously? It's, what, five minutes from the hospital?' Nate shrugged as she laughed. 'We should meet up here after your next shift.'

'I generally go straight home after work,' he shrugged, missing the hint. She was radiant under the buzzing red fluorescence, and the warm candlelight, both flickering across her flawless skin.