Waiting For The Ending

Chapter Eight

Once the credits are done rolling, we walk through the theatre doors and into the waiting room. I continue to rant about the ending of the movie as Sarah walks beside me in silence. I go on and on about how Jackson would've been making a better decision if he'd walked through that portal and how it didn't make sense for him to stay back. "Honestly I just hope the other movies we come see don't end as badly as this one." I say as the final statement of my rant. Sarah slowly comes to a halt. "I want to go on that trip."

I stop beside her. "I thought you were scared something could go wrong." I say. "I know." She says. "I am." She continues. "But I really want to go." She says firmly but gently.

I attempt to dissuade her from going and convince her to come to the theatre with me, telling her that the ending we just saw wasn't satisfying in the least bit and that it would be foolish to not see a movie that didn't have a satisfying ending as soon as possible. I frantically make up and give her reasons I don't have or believe in, just because I think it would be enough to stop her from going on that trip. I can't bring myself to accept the idea of not being with her in that theatre.

As I keep throwing at her, my reasons for her to stay and my voice turns croaky from my breathless monologue, Sarah without warning wraps her arms around me and she hugs me. At every moment I think that this is the one where she lets go, but she doesn't. I slowly raise my shaky hands so I can hug her back, but before I can, she eases her embrace and lets go. She smiles at me and gestures for me to walk with her to the elevator.

We wait for it to arrive and it dings as it does. Sarah steps in first and looks at me before I can enter. "My purse. I left it inside." I assure her that I would retrieve it for her and just before I can run off to go get it, she grabs me by the elbow. "Thank you." She says looking at me and in a voice so genuine I almost forget I have to go retrieve her purse. I nod in response and dart away, leaving her behind in the elevator. I search everywhere, looking over and under my seat and both of the seats she sat in. I find nothing. Disheartened I make my way back, greatly not looking forward to breaking the bad news to her.

I am greeted by the closed doors of the elevator and the panel on the side, displaying the letter G in neon red. The lift is on the ground floor. I press the button on the panel and call it back up to the third floor. Its doors open to reveal its emptiness. Sarah isn't there. I step in and take the elevator down to the ground floor and rush out into the street. I look to my right and then to my left. I look back at the old multiplex building. Rajesh lies asleep on the ground while the woman at the ticket counter does the same in her booth. There's no one else there. I run to one end of the street with what feels like a lump growing in my throat. Nothing. I start running to the other end of the street, my eyes watering and the lump in my throat more prominent than before, threatening to explode at any moment. I make it, but I find nothing. Sarah isn't here.

In this moment, I wish I never agreed to let her sit next to me. I wish I never met her at Richard Hexley's third film and I wish I never met her tonight. The lump in my throat causes me an overwhelming pain and my face scrunches as tears roll down my cheeks. I make these wishes even though I know I'd regret them till the end of my days if they came true. I know that if the memories I have of her, whether they were memories of moments that happened or moments I hoped would happen, were erased from my mind, I would be lesser off. I would be less whole.

I think of her tears at the end of the movie and how they were tears of relief but not sadness. I think of the last time I saw her after she walked into the elevator. And I think of when she hugged me and I didn't hug her back in time.

I think of everything about her that I possibly can, like her every trace is about to wiped from every corner of my mind and I have no choice but to hold on.

I think of the end of the movie, and I think of how much I hate it.

The movie received rave reviews and was acclaimed by both audiences and critics. The studio gave it a second theatrical run with more shows playing in more theatres than all of Richard Hexley's previous movies put together. It also earned him a good number of award nominations. Critics, fans and tabloids gushed over how he was the voice of cinema for the new age and how he had the potential to be ranked among the greats of the art form.

On the night of one of the most prestigious film award shows, the public support for him winning the award of Best Director was almost unanimous. The atmosphere before the announcement of the winner was tense. Even I at home was on the edge of my seat like I was watching the morbidly gripping final scene from his first film. The result was announced and the audience at the show and fans on the internet erupted with joy. He received a thunderous applause as he walked up the steps to collect his award.

In his speech he talked about how he started his career with practically nothing, how movies were all he had growing up and how much they meant to him. You could tell he was holding back tears when he started talking about the negative reception to his third film and how the future seemed uncertain at the time. He talked about how grueling the filmmaking process was both physically and emotionally but more than anything he talked about how he was grateful. He was grateful not only to everyone that was a part of this process and helped him go on this journey but to himself as well, for making the decision to do this in the first place. He was thankful for both the ups and downs of the last few years of his life and said there wasn't a single moment he wouldn't want to relive if given the chance. After his speech, he said one final thank you to everyone at the venue and at home watching on their televisions and to everyone's dismay, announced his retirement.

He smiled with tears in his eyes and said that there were more journeys still left go on and that it was time for a new one. That was the last the world saw of Richard Hexley. Rumors floated around that he'd settled down and started practicing as a bankruptcy lawyer, in a small sleepy town in southern USA. A far cry from the life he lived not too long ago.

I still think of his movies and the memories I have of watching them and as much as I wouldn't like to, I still think of Sarah. A part of me hopes he'd come out of his retirement and make another movie that I could watch in that decrepit old theatre in the second seat from the aisle of the middle row. But as time goes on that becomes increasingly more unlikely.

I still go see every movie that comes out, whether its in the new multiplex, the other theatres in town or even the old multiplex that I saw all of Richard Hexley's films in. Sometimes they are empty and sometimes they are packed with people. Regardless of the movie I'm seeing or the theatre I'm in, the moments I spent with Sarah play in my head on repeat, taking priority over the movie before me. I try to forget everything that happened and I try to let go of the idea of the two of us in a theatre together, laughing and crying at or feeling differently about a movie.

Even now as I sit in the theatre and vivid soulful images fill the screen, it seems impossible to me that I could ever bring myself to let go. How could I forget memories that have been playing on repeat in my mind from the second they happened? How could I forget the images and moments that have been imprinted onto my brain and the feelings I hadn't felt up until then and haven't felt since?

Maybe I shouldn't come to the theatre as much as I do. Maybe I should be going out and experiencing the world like Sarah is. Maybe I should just accept the fact that she's out on an adventure and that she isn't coming back. I think that's the only card I have left to play. Sarah is out on her journey, maybe it's time for me to go on mine.

I think of her once again and how she looked under the harsh streetlight, the first day I met her.

I replay every single little memory I have of her, like they're frames on a 35-millimeter reel of film playing on a loop, over the movie that I came here to see. The moments flash before my eyes in rapid succession like they're being projected onto the screen by an old-timey projector as I sit among the empty seats of this lost and almost forgotten theatre. They make me smile for they're wonderful memories I don't ever want to let go of.

I will go on my adventure. Soon. That is something I know for a certainty.

But for now, I'm watching a movie and I'm waiting for the ending.

The End