Time Passages (Queen or Freddie Mercury Fanfic)

34. Rose-Colored Nostalgia

Julia

Finally, I mouthed to myself. For the very last scene of the movie, wherein Princess Leia gives a medal to the heroes, now spread across the screen. I couldn't help but smile when I saw a young Harrison Ford stride forth for his prize. Mark Hamill was cute then, granted, but of the two I considered Han much more interesting than Luke. It seemed I had always had a thing for the archetypal "no-good" scoundrel with a heart of gold.

Danny leaned over and whispered to me, "Why didn't she give one to Chewie?"

I whispered back, "I don't know either, but I'll bet Stu does. You should ask him later." I shot a look at Stuart, whose eyes had not left the screen once, not even when he told us to "Sh!" when Danny and I were whispering during the lightsaber showdown between Obi-Wan and Darth Vader.

I had learned the hard way that Stuart did not like mid-movie chatter. For while Danny and I both tended to talk quite freely during films, even those we had never seen before- if only to state the obvious ("She's an idiot!"), ask the redundant ("Is he dead?"), or, most frequently, warn the deaf actors on screen ("That guy's gonna kill you if you go in there! Run away, stupid! Go! Now!")- Stuart was the kind to utterly lose himself in a film, and any premature attempts to coax him back to reality were, shall we say, not well-received. I'll just leave it at that.

Chewbacca roared one last time (which Danny translated humorously as "Hey! Where's my medal?"), followed right away by the famous Star Wars credit roll. The lights in the theater brightened, showing a nearly sold-out theater dotted here and there with one or two empty seats toward the middle.

Nearly, I repeated to myself with a sad sigh. Stuart was wrong. There were tickets left. Freddie could have come.

I wished he had, too, more than I can say. It would have been such a different experience- and a much more entertaining one at that. I had A New Hope practically memorized as it was, and Stuart himself had seen it so many times he could describe any given scene down to the tiniest detail just by listening to the film score that accompanied it. I enjoyed the movie- I always did- but it wasn't the same.

I hope Freddie's having a good time, wherever he is, I sighed inwardly.

We were all quite full with popcorn and theater candy, and it was rather late for a school night. So when Stuart offered to take us out to a late dinner, I politely turned him down.

"You sure?" His brow wrinkled.

"Yeah," I nodded. "I mean, I'm good. Danny, you hungry?"

My boy shook his head enthusiastically, which settled that question in a hurry. So we started collecting our things. People were filing out of the theater already, and it was high time we followed suit.

I ducked down and grabbed my purse, then stayed down a few moments, peered into the shadows beneath our seats.

"What are you looking for, Mom?" Danny asked.

"Nothing, sweetie," I lied, but it was only a half-lie. I didn't really expect to find another Boston Red Sox ball cap, but it didn't hurt to look. It would only have hurt if I actually found one- and hurt infinitely more if, by some great, awful, improbable miracle, its tattered brim happened to sport a sprawling, frenetic signature scrawled in black ballpoint ink...

But aside of a few popcorn kernels and a stray ticket stub or two, I found nothing, just as I thought. I stood back up, heart aching within me, cheeks flushing.

It was a stupid thing to look for anyway.

Before I became too swamped by nostalgia, I forced my mind in other, more helpful directions- last minute Christmas gifts, tomorrow night's dinner plans, Deacy's sudden radio silence, Danny's upcoming church program. As if to offer assistance in forgetting, Stuart put his arm round my shoulders and escorted us out into the brisk evening. Fortunately we didn't have to stay long out in the cold and wet; the Benz was parked close by, and we all clambered in as fast as we could.As soon as Stuart started the car, I turned the heater up full blast. I had spent three years living in the Northeast, but I still missed my milder Texas winters.