Crush

I go there every Sunday for the matinee. Sometimes I see the same movie three weeks in a row. But I don’t go there for the movies. I go there only to see him. Tall and lanky with short blond hair and expressive blue eyes, he is my dream man walking on earth. He always has a smile and a friendly word for everyone who walks through the door, greeting most by their first name.

I dreamily sit in the dark theater as brilliant colors flick over my unseeing eyes, turning my face into a fractured rainbow. I do not hear the movie’s dialogue, only his melodic voice asking me if I want a large soda or a small. I think of him as he stands behind the counter squirting warm butter on fluffy, golden popcorn kernels never once spilling a drop on his long, callused fingers. But sometimes, I imagine he does and it makes my legs quiver just thinking about it.

I make several trips to the concession stand during the two hours I am there, always seeming to forget something. A napkin, a straw, a box of M&Ms, plain, not peanut. He just smiles at me and we chat while he fulfills my every want. We never talk about anything important, mind you, we just shoot the breeze. He has no idea that my heart belongs to him. He would never guess that he carries it around in his pocket with his keys and his spare change, but he has it none the less.

Back in the theater, with explosions and car chases and people yelling, I sit oblivious to it all, anxiously awaiting the time when I can go back up and see his sweet face. Can’t go too often, he might catch on.

Finally, the movie ends and everyone exits the theater discussing the actors, dissecting the plot, recounting their favorite scenes and deciding where to go to eat. I stand back, waiting for the end of the line, prolonging the bliss that awaits me up front.

I finally stand in front of him and his smile lights up my day. Clouds part and the sun shines down, if only for a moment, the briefest moment, in time.

I am in rapture as he takes hold of my right had with his and places his left hand on my shoulder. You have a good evening, now girl. He smiles and then says, don’t be causing no trouble or breaking no hearts. Never! My heart belongs to you, I scream inside my head as I warmly smile at him, placing my left hand on top of his right one. The contact causes my heart to race. I can feel the currents of electricity running through my hands, up my arms and straight to my heart, causing it to overload a circuit and malfunction.

Oh, I can’t make any guarantees, I breathe, speaking almost in a whisper so he has to lean in closer. And closer he leans, as if he hangs on my every word. Oh, he is sly, this one. He knows how to play the game. He is a charmer and treats everyone as if there is no one in the world but them. When in truth, there is no one in my world but him. He laughs at my witty comment and tells me I am too much. Then he says will I see you again next Sunday? A new movie is coming to the theater. He rambles on about the weak plot of this psychological thriller but that it has an excellent subplot in the life and death of a prostitute that holds the key to the whole movie. I stare deeply into his eyes, listening to every gem that drops from those luscious lips. Oh, just say you want me as much as I want you! Just tell me that after all these years, you have finally realized that you can’t live without me! JUST SAY IT!

Of course he doesn’t say it. He stands there eagerly waiting for my reply, like a groom at the altar, desperately wanting his bride to say those two little words and reassure him that his feelings are reciprocated.

I do, I mean, I will, I say, turning a light shade of red at my blunder. His eyes cloud with confusion, but at my affirmation, he smiles again and the blue shines through crystal clear. I look forward to seeing you, he says.

An eternity later, he turns to the final movie goers, asking if they’ve enjoyed the movie and hoping they will return again soon. To my dismay, the whole encounter lasted a mere two minutes. I could have stood there forever, watching his sensuous mouth forming the words one by one, moving to the cadence of his breath. Felt his hands linger on my shoulders as he tried to interest me in a return trip. Gazed at his beautiful face, his chiseled features rugged and handsome. The only consolation I have is that I know he will be with me tonight, in my bed, in my arms, in my dreams.

I step to the door, soon to exit not just the theater, but his light, his life force. I take one more look over my shoulder to stare at him, his faded blue jeans hugging his body, his blue checked shirt neatly tucked in. A dish towel also tucked into his waistband at one corner and the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to the elbows, showcasing tanned arms. The shirt, open at the throat, showed a hint of golden hair glistening in the florescent lights.

As I start to turn back toward the door, I see his fair head turn in my direction. While still holding his conversation with a young man, whose arms are full with a sleeping child, he gives me a wave and a smile. Then he calls out, I’ll see you next Sunday. It’s a date, I say, laughing playfully and swinging the door open. He smiles again and turns his attention once more to the young man.

My golden boy. A ray of sunshine in a dark and dreary world. No matter what happens to me, I know that heaven waits for me on Sunday. But not at church, at the movie theater. I go there every Sunday for the matinee.