Page 31 of The Weight Of Falling
“I’ve run out of tissues,” I tell him, like it’s the end of the world, swiping at my cheeks with the heels of my hands.
He exhales in relief, as though I’ve finally presented him with a problem he can fix. “Okay. Let’s see if we can find you some toilet paper.”
We both head in the direction of the women’s restroom, only to discover a line stretching halfway to the popcorn counter. Most of the ladies are sporting blotchy faces and streaked makeup. I’m guessing I look as wrecked as they do.
“I can’t wait in that line.”
“It’s all right,” Joel reassures me. “We’ll make another plan.”
Since my eyes are still blurred with tears, Joel places a steady hand at the small of my back and guides me out of the theater, down the steps, and into the cool night air outside. The strong, sweet scent of the magnolia trees lining the street washes over me. Even at this time of night, Main Street still hums with life. Although the coffee shops are closed, the restaurants are busy.
Unfortunately, Joel’s car is parked in a lot at the far end of the street. The plan had been to walk the length of Main so people would see us together. Right now, with my red-rimmed eyes and tearstained cheeks, I wish we’d parked closer. Judging by the tight set of Joel’s jaw, I’m guessing he does too.
“I’m sorry, Kenzie,” he says suddenly, dragging a hand through his hair. “I thought the movie would be a charming, literary story about C. S. Lewis. I didn’t know it would be so sad.”
“I didn’t either,” I choke out, fresh tears spilling over.
The ache inside me twists deeper. Poor C. S. Lewis, who nursed his wife through cancer. Poor Joy, who suffered so much before she died. Poor Douglas, who lost his mom.
And poor Joel, who has to put up with the emotional wreck that is me right now.
“Come on,” he says softly. “Let’s get you home.”
We’ve barely gone ten steps before Jaya Callahan, who runs the antique shop, spots us from her sidewalk table at Giovanni’s. She freezes, her eyes darting between my upset expression and Joel’s hand at my back. She whispers something to her companion.
“Everything okay, Kenzie?” she calls out.
I nod and muster a watery smile, but I can feel Joel’s hand flex against my back, like he’s bracing for more questions.
Two storefronts later, we bump into Summer, whom I’ve known since grade school and who now runs the front desk at the library. Her surprised gaze flicks between Joel and me. “I didn’t know you two were an item.”
Discomfort flickers across Joel’s face. “This is just a date. We’re not an item.”
Summer’s lips press into a thin line as she takes in my wet cheeks. “Clearly, this is the first time Kenzie’s hearing the news.”
“He’s not... We’re not...” I try to explain, but I’m still crying too hard to form any kind of coherent sentence.
Summer squeezes my shoulder. “He’s not worth it,” she whispers in a fierce voice. “No man is.”
With one last death stare at Joel, she stalks away.
“I’m so sorry,” I say to Joel.
“I’ve dealt with worse,” he replies with the barest hint of a shrug.
I want to ask what he means by that, but I’m distracted by the growing number of people shooting me concerned looks and then glaring at Joel, as if holding him responsible for my distress.
“Why don’t you try to think about something else?” Joel suggests.
I bite my lip. “I’m trying.”
And I am. But every time I blink, I see the grief etched in C. S. Lewis’s face. I’ve watched my share of sad movies, butShadowlandshas touched me in a way no other movie has. Lewis is an author I’ve admired my whole life, and it was devastating to learn how his real story unfolded—how he met Joy Gresham, fell in love, and found happiness, only to have it stolen when she was diagnosed with terminal cancer.
I can’t pinpoint why this movie has affected me so much. I may draw whimsical, hopeful cards, but that doesn’t mean I’m blind to the bittersweet side of love.
I noticed even Joel wasn’t unaffected by the movie. At one point, I saw him looking down and swallowing hard. But then I was too caught up in the tragedy playing out on the screen to notice anything else.
I draw in a deep, bracing breath. “I don’t believe there are any tears left in my body, so I think I’m okay now.”
