Page 2 of Christmas at the Movies
About halfway through the film, someone in the audience started whispering loudly and rustling a packet of sweets. The girl turned around to glare at them and, as she did so, locked eyes with James. They both shook their heads, united in their silent disapproval. Then she winked at James. God, was she beautiful.
Feeling heat rise to his cheeks, James felt grateful that his tell-tale blush was hidden by the dark. As she turned back to the film, her Christmassy scent wafted over to him again. James closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. He wondered if she smelled like that all year round.
The movie ended with Lucy finally revealing the truth – that she had deceived everyone so she could spend Christmas as part of a family. But – surprise, surprise – Lucy got her ‘happily ever after’ anyway, having fallen in love with the brother of the man in the coma.
James could hear the girl sniffling at the happy ending. Despite the film’s blatant emotional manipulation, there was a lump in James’s throat as well.
James remained in his seat as the closing credits scrolled down the screen. It wasn’t just because he was hoping to time his exit with the girl’s, it was a habit his father had instilled in him. Even though the names rolled past quickly and in small type, the credits were where the film’s unsung heroes – the grips, the sound engineers, the camera operators, the prop makers and the carpenters – got their brief moment of glory on the silver screen.
When the house lights came on, the girl remained seated. James stood andsloooowlygathered up his coat, hoping she would do the same. And then he heard … more sniffling.
Surely she wasn’t still crying over the film? He hesitated for a moment, wondering if he should check if she was OK.
It’s none of your business, James,he told himself. If she was upset, she probably didn’t want to be bothered.
He started to walk out, then his conscience pricked at him. He could hear his mother’s voice in his head, reminding him that Christmas could be a hard time for many people. Before James’s family had eaten their festive meal, his mum had always served Christmas dinner at St Joseph’s church hall to those who didn’t have anywhere else to go. James hated the thought that his mum might be looking down from heaven and see him ignoring someone in need.
Go and check on her,he could hear her urging.
He turned around and walked down the aisle to where the girl was sitting. Her head was bowed, long brown hair spilling forwards.
‘Hey, are you OK?’ he asked, crouching down.
Startled, she looked up and self-consciously wiped her eyes with her sleeve. ‘Oh, hi,’ she said, sounding embarrassed. ‘I didn’t know anyone else was still in here. I’m just feeling a bit sorry for myself.’
‘Why’s that?’ asked James.
‘It’s Christmas Eve and I’m on my own at the movies.’ She gave a humourless laugh. ‘I don’t even have a fake boyfriend in a coma to hang out with.’
‘I’m happy to volunteer,’ offered James, hoping to coax a smile out of her. ‘That film was so saccharine, I’m at risk of slipping into a diabetic coma.’
The girl’s eyes widened in surprise. ‘You didn’t like it?’
‘I mean …’ James hesitated, not sure whether to temper his review to avoid offending her. ‘The plot was a bit far-fetched. The whole thing was based on a misunderstanding that could have been cleared up in about two seconds.’
‘You’re missing the point,’ the girl retorted passionately. ‘Of courseit was predictable. Romantic comedies aresupposedto be predictable! You know from the start that they’re going to fall in love at the end.’
‘I guess,’ said James. He didn’t like romcoms for exactly that reason. They were predictable.
‘There was such a spark between Sandra Bullock and Bill Pullman. It reminded me of old screwball comedies – you know, likeHis Girl FridayorBringing Up Baby.Watching them, you just knew it was love at first sight.’ Her brown eyes flashed as she spoke, her tears apparently forgotten. She spoke so quickly, she could have been in an old screwball comedy herself.
Did anyone really fall in love at first sight outside of the movies? wondered James.
‘You two need to leave,’ said Erica from the ticket booth, entering the auditorium. She was holding a broom and a dustpan.
‘Sorry!’ The girl stood and picked up her parka. ‘We’ll get out of your way.’
‘Here, let me,’ said James, helping the girl put her coat on. As she flipped her hair over the collar, he inhaled that Christmassy smell again.
‘So you’re at Imperial?’ she asked as they walked down the aisle together.
‘Third year,’ replied James. ‘How did you know?’
She pointed to his chest. James looked down and saw that he was wearing his college scarf.
Duh.
‘I’m in my first year at UCL. Sarah,’ she said, offering her hand. Her nails had chipped purple vanish on them.
