Page 35 of Deafened By Silence
“Don’t be stupid. Rhys doesn’t date, and he sure as hell doesn’t fuck rejects.”
Their laughter travels to me as they walk away, forcing me to stop still in my tracks. My body shakes against the strain of my mind, trying to pull me backwards against my own will. My fists clench, my vision swimming with ways to make them choke on their words. Harper is everything they could ever hope to be.
After a moment of tensing hard enough to cause the start of several cramps, I manage to step forward on a long exhale. I can’t defend Harper’s name every time, especially not whenshe insists on walking directly into the line of fire. She’s not my problem. Thankfully, I don’t pass anyone else for the rest of the walk and I finally arrive back at my dorm. Twisting the key in the lock, I push open the door to see a peculiar sight. Even more peculiar than Kenneth’s usual standards.
My roommate is hunched over the desk we share, inspecting a pigeon whose neck has clearly been snapped. There’s no blood or smell yet, just a lifeless pile of feathers sprawled across the first draft of my thesis.
“What the hell are you doing?” I slam the door shut, making him jump. Kenneth’s red hair is particularly wild tonight, shock paling his features but I’m sure I see a hint of excitement in the depths of his brown eyes. Pushing his glasses up, he bobs towards me like a puppy which I won’t let get too close.
“Clayton! I found this pigeon outside and I think someone must have killed it but guess what! This will be a perfect dissection for the project I’m working on about the differences in manifestations of diseases carried by rodents and birds!” Shoving him aside, I move to try and save my work since it’s the only copy I have.
“Fuck’s sake Kenneth, stop bringing dead animals home! You have a key to the veterinary lab, just take them straight there.” Nudging the paper out from underneath, the pigeon rolls and falls onto the floor with a hollow thud. Nope, I’m not staying in here all evening while Kenneth gets hard over roadkill. He rushes to pick up the bird with his gloved hands and roll it into a cloth.
“I’m done for tonight, pinkie swear.” Kenneth holds up his pinkie and I just stare at him like I’m considering how to dispose of his body. He promptly lowers his hand. “I wasn’t supposed to be home this long anyway. I have two tickets for the special midnight screening of ‘Iron Man 2.0’, but Samuel heard from Donna that Rachel was going to the afterparty and she’s a reallight weight so he’s going to finally tell her how he feels and hence.....he ditched me.”
There’s a wobble to Kenneth’s bottom lip as something has finally managed to shut him up, a glistening in his eyes that has me ready to bolt through the door if a single tear falls. But all at once, the misery vanishes and is replaced with a buzzing excitement that has his mouth dropping open on a high-pitched squeal.
“Oh! You could come with me!”
Shaking my head, I start rooting through my drawers for some shorts. Gym it is. I can’t imagine a worse way to die than for Kenneth to drag me to a movie he’ll probably talk though and bore me to a vegetated, non-breathing state.
“Please Clayton, pleeeeeease. Don’t make me go alone, the ticket is paid for and I’ll get you popcorn and I promise I won’t say a word the entire time.” I still and quirk my eyebrow in disbelief, but Kenneth starts doing that nod again where his head just might fly off.
“There’s no way in hell you can stay quiet for an entire night.”
“Cross my heart, from the time we leave this room, I will be silent. Come on, help me out here. Everyone already thinks I’m a creepy weirdo. What would they say if I went to a movie all by myself?”
I stare at him unblinking, not understanding how my presence would change that fact. But dammit, I kinda get it. I was just downing my sorrows in a bottle of rum behind a tree. Being a loner gets you into strange situations where the world seems to keep going on without you. I do need a distraction tonight, and hell, I might just need a friend. Besides, I haven’t been to the movies in years, if the run-down cinema with one screen at the end of my childhood block counts. If not, then I’ve never been to the movies.
“If you manage to go all night without saying one word, I’ll let you be my partner for the Grayson lab trip,” I snort against my better judgement. Again, maybe a friend isn’t the worst idea, even if there’s no way he’ll manage to stay quiet. I’ll most likely team up with him anyway, and this way, I feel better about taking his free ticket. Accepting charity isn’t in my nature.
Kenneth squeals like a three-year-old girl on Christmas and flies around the room grabbing items for his backpack. I’m more than a little concerned to see two pairs of socks and a blanket go in there.
Swapping the shorts in my hand for jeans, I head into the bathroom to freshen up and change. When I emerge, thankfully the soon-to-be dissected disease-potato is nowhere in sight and Kenneth is vibrating with excitement. His carroty plaid shirt matches his slicked back hair, with black slacks over his trainers and I briefly worry why he’s dressed as if this were a date.
Grabbing my military jacket, I shove out the door before he does something stupid like hug me. Once in the hallway, Kenneth mimes zipping his mouth closed and then counter-productively swallows the imaginary key. Swiping the tickets from his free hand, I examine the cinema logo with a nod and pull my keys from my pocket.
“I’ll drive.”
Sure as shit, Kenneth is yet to mumble one word. I didn’t know he had so much restraint. Exiting my beat-up truck, he sprints ahead of me to the cinema entrance. Tonight, it seems, I am the owner of an over-excited puppy as I push through theglass doors and find myself immersed in an alternative universe where cinemas apparently resemble swanky hotels.
Gold bollards with red ropes frame the walkway, the ceiling a mass of golden LED lights. The foyer floor sparkles as I walk over it, a black swirl cutting through the smooth vinyl and leading to the kiosks. Along the walls, huge TV’s flash with movie trailers amongst vintage movie memorabilia and artwork. Kenneth darts in the opposite direction as I’m pulled towards a wooden stick hanging above a scene from Lord of the Rings, the prop apparently the real staff used through all three movies.
After reading the lengthy description, Kenneth nudges me to signal his return and plants a tray into my hands which he was struggling to hold. Beside two jumbo sized sodas sits hotdogs with crispy onions, cheesy nachos, a salty-scented tub of popcorn and pack of caramel chocolate bites. On the edge of the tray, ‘I didn’t know what you liked...’ has been scrawled into a napkin, although strangely the items are all exactly what I would have chosen for myself.
I attempt to form some sort of thank you, not expecting Kenneth to feed me as well, but he’s already moved on. Putting up six fingers, he points at an overhead sign which shows the direction of the screens. The huge grin on his face shows how proud he is of his miming skills, leading the way for me to follow behind. Even when the assistant checking tickets asks how he’s doing tonight, he replies with a cheery thumbs up.
Just like the foyer, the auditorium does not disappoint. And by “does not disappoint,” I mean it’s the kind of over-the-top bougie bullshit that makes you feel like you should’ve worn a tux just to eat nachos. Maybe I should have followed Kenneth’s lead and put on a shirt. I don’t have much experience with movie theaters,thank you tragic backstory, but the red velvet curtain-framed screen filling an entire wall isn’t what I was expecting.Instead of neat rows of seats, there are small sofaswith side trays. As if Netflix and Chill needed to be franchised.
I trail after Kenneth like a reluctant date, my boots sinking into the plush grey carpet that feels expensive enough to sue me if I spill soda on it. A couple guys glance at me on the way, their eyes flicking between my scowl and Kenneth’s bouncing ginger mop. Fantastic. Nothing like walking into a midnight nerd nest looking like the bodyguard for Ronald McDonald’s estranged nephew.
We settle onto our assigned sofa. Everyone in attendance seems to be male but I suppose it’s cliché for men to venture out at midnight for the latest comic book action flick. Sitting beside Kenneth, he gives me a secretive smile, his usually dull eyes alight with mischief. I barely have time to frown before the lights go dim.
Using the glow from the LEDs down the central aisle, I place my chosen snacks on the moveable tray and pass the rest to Kenneth. The popcorn goes between us as there’s only one tub, but there is no way I’m risking an accidental hand touch. He’s welcome to the popcorn.
The trailers begin to roll, an odd mix of romantic comedies and musical theatre recordings. My suspicions only grow when the couple behind start to giggle excitedly, pulling out a blanket to spread across their laps. By the time the opening credits flash upon the screen, it’s a good thing I’d stopped slurping my soda otherwise I would have sprayed it all over the floor.
‘Iron man 2.0. The Return of Tony Starkers’appears in an amateur red lettering, my jaw dropping into my lap. Where I expected to see a metallic suited hero, instead stands a stubbled middle-aged man in a red and gold thong. A tinfoil crafted ‘jetpack’ sits on his back, a light in the shape of testicles stuck to the center of his chest. Aside from that, he’s not wearing any clothes.
