Page 26 of Grease Monkey
We walk to the ticket stand, our hands by our sides, yet so close that if I stretched out my fingers, I could touch him. I want to feel my hand in his, but it’s too soon, right? Teddy smiles at the woman, handing over our tickets, then guides me to the concession stand.
“Burger or hotdog?” he asks, looking at the menu board hanging on the back wall. “I’m not sure about the food quality here, but if it’s shit, we can find somewhere to eat after?”
“Oh, no, it’s fine. I’ll have a hotdog, please.”
He nods and orders our food and a couple of sodas from the guy behind the counter. I offer to pay, but he bats my hand away, tossing some dollar bills on the desk and ushering me to find our seats.
The planetarium’s main room—a domed amphitheater with a pitch-black roof used for their standard daytime showing of stars and planets—is filled with excited Pink Floyd fans slowly filling the rows circling a massive platform in the center that has a thin layer of smoke misting across it.
“This is us here,” Teddy says, gesturing toward our seats with this soda cup. I shimmy through the row, smiling at an older couple wearing matching retro t-shirts with the band’s logo.
“I love your shirt.”
“Thank you, sweetheart. My John here bought it on our first date.” She smiles fondly at the man sitting beside her. “His excellent taste in music made him a keeper.”
Her husband picks up her hand and brings it to his lips. “Best ten bucks I ever spent.”
I grin and sink into the oversized recliner. “If I forget to tell you, I had a really great time tonight.”
Teddy’s smile falls as I take a big gulp of my soda, slowly sucking on the straw as his eyes heat. I let the thin plastic linger between my lips and he groans, pushing his tongue into his cheek.
“Ana,” Teddy growls, his fists clenching against the armrest like he’s trying to stop himself from reaching out, but before he can say another word, he’s knocked forward as some guy behind bangs against his seat.
“Sorry, dude,” he slurs, and I face the front, hiding my smile as Teddy mutters not to worry about it. It might have been small, but being the one to tease Teddy is exhilarating.
When the hall fills, the lights dim, and smoke machines flare up, spurting fog into the crowd as the gentle melody of the introduction to “In the Flesh?”quietly fills the room, followed by the thudding interruption of distorted guitars and organ notes. Goosebumps scatter across my arms, the hairs rising as I am swept up in the music, just like everyone else here. Beams of lights scatter all around us, the blues, greens, and yellows illuminating the faces in the audience, all filled with the same awestruck expression.
The rock opera might be an acquired taste, the music and lyrics often dark at times, but it’s a piece of rock history, and nothing like it exists.
In my opinion.
As the intro fades and the lyrics begin, an old-school rocker’s hologram appears on the platform, holding onto a mic and singing the haunting words as the story plays out before us. My hands are wrapped tightly around the handrails of my seat, my food and drink forgotten, and I steal a glance at Teddy from the corner of my eye, double taking when I notice he’s watching... me.
“What?” I mouth, my voice drowned out by the song.
He smiles and leans closer, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear. “You’re singing.”
I recoil and vehemently shake my head. “I was not.”
I totally was.
I can tell he’s laughing, although I can’t hear it. He licks his lips, and my eyes follow. Moving to my ear again, he loudly says, “You have no idea how beautiful you look right now. I can’t stop staring at you. You’re more mesmerizing than the show.” The vibrations from his words tickle my ear, and the goosebumps on my skin are there for a whole other reason.
The needle slides from the vinyl when side two has finished playing. Skip’s breathing shallowed long ago, and I stare at my brother, fast asleep on his stomach on my bedroom floor, while I sit, legs stretched in front of me, against the foot of my bed. We’d listen to old vinyl records whenever our mom and dad were away on “business trips” on a player Skip bought at a yard sale. The thing looked like an old suitcase and was kept under his bed for safekeeping.
“Enjoying it so far?”Teddy asks, and I open my eyes, the memory of another life disappearing.
“I just… I can’t… I have no words,” I beam, my cheeks hurting from the non-stop smiling.
“Do you want anything? I’m going to run to the bathroom.”
I shake my head, and he pauses like he wants to say something, glancing between my eyes and lips, but instead nods once and politely squeezes out of the row. My shoulders sag as I watch him climb the stairs and out of the auditorium.
“What do you think of the show, honey?” the woman with the vintage shirt asks.
“Oh, I love it. I can’t stop singing along with them. I’m just glad the music’s loud enough that you can’t hear me.”
She laughs. “I wish that were the case for my John here. He keeps thinking his knees are a drum kit and won’t stop tapping along.” She elbows her husband in the ribs lightly.
