Page 8 of The Truth About You and Me
Music plays from behind a red door, something from another era, eighties maybe? I put my hand on the door at the foot of the stairs and push.
6
MAGGIE
Here we go. It doesn’t matter how many times I’ve seen this movie, this scene gets me. Every. Time. Eric Stoltz, aka Keith, in his dark blue mechanics overalls, under a car. Watts, short blonde hair – the ultimate ‘tomboy’ and hopelessly stuck in the friend zone – is convincing him that maybe he should consider practising kissing on her before he makes a move on the popular chick. I chew on another piece of popcorn, the warm and fuzzies expand inside my chest as she asks him what he intends on doing with his hands. I let out a loud sigh as their lips meet, as her hands run through his hair, her biker boots hitching around his waist.
I’m swooning up at the screen as the kiss deepens and increasing music volume intensifies the moment. God I wish I could lose myself in a kiss like that, to be swept off my feet by that kind of need and want. I wish I could have that kind of?—
The room sinks into darkness, Watts and Keith disappearing from view.
Panic catches in my throat as my eyes adjust to the absence of light. I’m alone. In the dark. I let out a long steadying breath, reminding myself that it’s the same room as it was a minute ago while Watts and Keith were getting it on; all that’s missing is light. That’s all. Just a simple power cut. It’ll be the storm. I take another breath in, counting to five, then exhaling to ten. I stand and begin to make my way past the empty seats to the end aisle, walking slowly towards the door, the bare tips of my fingers tracing the edges of the seats.
There is a split second where the air changes, when I know I’m not alone.
‘Hello?’ The voice is deep, questioning, and breaks into the silence. ‘Is there someone in here?’ My breath is coming in sharp bursts and I reactively undo the buttons on my mittens, covering my fingertips. ‘Do you know what’s happened to the lights?’ the voice continues. I’m deliberating answering when the lights flicker back on. The screen behind me resets to sky blue.
I take in the man stood still in the aisle. He’s tall, broad and looks like he’s stepped out of a 1950s film, like he’s one scene change away from leaning against a wall in the shadows and lighting a cigarette: dark hair parted on the side, clean-shaven, tux, buttons open at the neck, tie loose around the collar. Jesus. Maybe I wished for the perfect man and this is aSixteen Candlesscenario. I’ve made a wish and it’s come true. I shake sense back into my brain. I’m alone in this building with a stranger, no matter how knee-trembling, stomach-swoopingly gorgeous he is.
‘Don’t come any closer,’ I warn, inwardly wincing at my sharp tone. My defences are instinctively up, but he looks like he’s completely confused and worried by the situation, which is to be expected. I have practically accused him of being on the verge of attacking me without a valid reason.
He puts up his hands as though I’m about to fire a gun at him and takes another slow step down the aisle, hands still raised. He’s not far from me now. I can smell his aftershave: clean, expensive, like the scented candles from the new Marks and Sparks shop in town that Riz bought me for my birthday. He takes in my anxious state and softens his voice. ‘I’m not…’ He lowers his hand and places it against his chest. ‘Jack.’
‘You’re not Jack?’
‘No, I mean, yes. I am Jack, but I’m not a weirdo.’ He takes a deep breath, exasperated with himself, or me, or the situation. I can’t quite tell. He places a hand on his chest and says, ‘Jack,’ in a ‘Me Tarzan, you Jane’ motion. He stops still, raising his hands again. ‘I promise you I’m not here to harm you, I’ – he runs one of his hands through his hair – ‘I’ve had a crappy night and I just wanted to catch a movie. There are no ulterior motives here, OK?’
Neither of us breaks eye contact. I can hear each breath in my lungs inhaling and exhaling. ‘Is the storm still storming?’ I ask, not knowing how to respond.
He nods with a small smile. ‘I like that. Storm still storming.’ He takes a moment to appreciate my turn of phrase before continuing. ‘I’m guessing that’s what caused the electric to go off?’ He raises his eyebrows.
‘I think so.’ I shrug. Or wishes do come true and I’veAladdinedyou into this room.
Jack breaks eye contact first, his focus landing on my recently vacated seat, Henry still staring at the screen. ‘Unusual companion.’ His eyes flick back to mine, mouth cracking into a lopsided smile. It’s unnervingly self-conscious, as though he’s afraid of unleashing it.
‘I’m the cleaner,’ I say, pride in my voice.
‘You know, James Joyce used to take his notebook everywhere with him. A true artist is never far away from their tools.’
‘You should see my feather duster – I’m a magician with that in my hands.’What?I sound like I’m offering him a good go-over with my tickling stick. He doesn’t respond other than a slight twitch of his mouth: top lip Cupid’s bow, bottom bee-stung. We both hesitate, a small ripple of nervous laughter comes from within my chest. He lowers his hands slowly. ‘Well. Seeing as the movie isn’t playing, I’ll be on my way.’ He tucks his hand in his pocket. ‘It was good, not quite meeting you…’
‘Maggie. Wright. Not that you need to know, but…’ I chew the inside of my cheek.
‘Maggie.’ He smiles and oh God, the way he says my name… it sounds like it’s wrapped in velvet. I stand still, then remember that my purple bra is visible from beneath Romy’s black lace top. I pull my coat closer, cross my arms and nod towards the door. ‘I’ll see you out?’ He goes ahead and I follow a few steps behind, trying not to sniff the Jack-scented air behind him like Scooby-Doo.
‘So why was your night crappy?’ I ask as we round the top of the stairs into the foyer. I walk next to him, aware of maintaining some distance, while at the same time trying to make the gap look natural.
‘I… it’s just that I didn’t feel like being around people, you know?’ He looks across at me, a fleeting glance that hits me in all the right and wrong parts of my body.
‘I do.’ He must register the sincerity in my voice. ‘People are the worst,’ I add and find myself smiling at him. Neither of us move as we arrive at the door. The air feels still. ‘Well, if you ever want to escape people again, in my experience, the cinema is the best place to avoid people. Nobody speaks once the film starts.’ He raises his eyebrows, but nods as he sees the logic behind my suggestion.
Jack turns his head towards the door. ‘I’d better…’ He reaches for the handle then stops, turning to me. ‘Before I go, and we undoubtedly go our separate ways—’ His eyes drop to the keys in his hand, a small charm in the shape of a book that he flicks open and shut with his thumb. There is a small mole, the size of an eyeliner pencil dot beneath his right eye. Slowly, they drag back upwards, deep brown stare meeting mine as he clicks the small silver book shut. ‘I wondered if you’d like to grab a drink?’ His dark eyes meet mine. I lick my bottom lip, pulling it between my teeth.
My body tightens, my mouth opening a touch; all the words I imagine I could say in this scenario are filling my mouth, trying to get out.
‘Thank you,’ I reply.Thank you?But I don’t know what else I can say. There isn’t a world where I can have a relationship with this man. He’d run a mile – no doubt without breaking a sweat or pulling a hamstring – if he knew the truth about me. And after thedisasterof my last attempt at a relationship, I know this can’t go anywhere. My mouth tries to open again but I clamp it shut, our eyes drawn to the sound of a fresh wave of rain hitting the glass outside. ‘I… I’m sorry. I mean, Iwouldlike to but… it’s… I’m complicated.’
‘Understood.’ He gives me a nod, lands a hand on the door and pulls. The door remains locked. He frowns and looks back at me.
