The visuals of the new scene bring me back to the present where Sarah isn't sitting beside me but is in a seat that is out of sight. The colors of the movie have desaturated and have adopted the style of black-and-white noir films from the 1940s. The main character, Jackson, and a woman wearing clothes that seem appropriate for that era, stand opposite from each other overlooking a city skyline from a high-rise building, with blimps in the distance shining down spotlights at the city below them.
"I've been overcome by a feeling lately, Julia," says our main character. The woman responds, "A feeling? Well what kind, Jackie?" "The terrible kind. The terrible kind that makes your body feel sick and your soul more hollow and empty than you could ever imagine." He walks over to her and puts his hands on her shoulders.
"I've been overcome by a sense of longing, Julia."
Julia then inquires, "A longing for what, Jackson?" The camera then shifts to a shot of the man's eyes looking into the woman's and then to one of the woman's looking back into his.
He doesn't say anything but his eyes answer the question for him. The woman smiles.
I look back again towards Sarah's seat to catch another glimpse of her but she is barely visible in the darkness. I wonder if she likes the movie and I wonder if she's trying to make sense of what's happening but is as distracted as I am. A part of me hopes she is.
The scene keeps going and I'm about to get a handle on things when the screen abruptly cuts to black and the lights come on. It is the intermission. I stay seated in my seat too afraid to stand up and walk over to hers to say something as seemingly simple as Hello. I sink into the worn-out cushion of my seat a little bit.
Footsteps. I hear the sound of footsteps as they come closer and closer to where I'm seated. I don't raise my head and I don't turn around.
She's standing next to me, her presence looming over me. My mind tells my head not to turn to her, but it does so anyways. She looks at me with her head turned, her body still facing the stairs. I look back.
She walks down the stairs and through the doors and into the waiting room. I slowly get out of my chair and follow suit.
The waiting room is empty, so I walk through it. If she isn't in the theatre and she isn't in the waiting room, there's just one other place she could be. This is of course assuming she isn't using the restroom. God, I hope she isn't using the restroom.
Before the waiting room and close to where the elevator is, there is a dirty narrow staircase. It leads to the terrace of the building that houses the ticketing booth and the multiplex's three screens on the three different floors. The sight of the stairs is daunting and they seem steeper than they really are. I set my left foot down onto the first step and my right onto the second. I repeat this process again. And again. And again, until I walk up the stairs far enough to get to the first landing. I begin my journey unto the second. There are four in total. I think this might take a while.
YOU ARE READING
Waiting For The Ending
RomanceAn eighteen year old boy reminisces about the moments spent at the theatre with a girl his age and the memories made there, as they both attend the premiere of the latest film by director Richard Hexley.
