The Sun, The Girl and Goodbye Ch. 07

He opens the door.

The cinema lobby, seemingly ancient and made before movies even existed, is replete with the finely woven carpets and fabrics Our Hero has grown accustomed to. Wooden doors made to withhold armies with metal bars far too heavy for the fair to grasp, much less use. It is, as so many places he's seen recently, a monument dedicated to giving a good impression.

The Girl walks with him, not hand in hand as she has expressed she'd so dearly like, but is frowned upon. Instead she glides besides him, her loose dress and bouncing hair catching his eye. When he turns to look at her, she looks back and smiles, but it is low, almost cautious.

"Do you want anything? Do you—do you have anything when you see a film?"

"No, thank you." She shakes her head. "I do not see them often. I admit, I never understood what the fuss was about. Much less what it would be to spend limited time here going to see one." She laughs. "But I agreed." Then she shrugs and looks over the lobby like the world were new to her. "You say you love this one?"

Our Hero nods, finds out you can buy a chilled beer even here, and takes her into the theater.

They sit next to one another as music plays and lights dim slowly. He sips his beer and does his best not to ask her any questions as they have only been deflected. It is her nature, he's come to know. She is always surviving, walking a tightrope, and no matter what laugh or comfort or ease she shows it is not true. Not to the core of her. And he has learned that he must appreciate it. That it will not change. She will not wake up one night, confess her soul and make everything giving and honest between them.

She will simply be herself. The Girl. Capable, cunning, and giving. But scared, maybe even shy, and putting higher stakes on small things than he did on traveling continents. Maybe, he mused as he sipped his beer and listened to the faintly dreamlike music, that's why she liked him. Because he didn't have those fears. The demons in him never care much for making of show. Restless wasn't a part of his nature. Maybe, maybe, maybe. He washed the semi-sweet beer around in his mouth and swallowed.

The Girl shifts but keeps her eyes locked directly ahead. "Do you find your attraction for me wanes?"

"It increases."

"And yet, as you find me more attractive you make me come to a cinema? To see an old movie? Tell me, My Mister, should I not be suspicious of that?"

"Does it matter how I answer? You'll be suspicious of it. You're suspicious of the leaves falling out of trees."

She laughs faintly before the mask is secured again. "If you like me, if you want me more, then you understand that this is foreign to me. That I..."

Our hero waits. He does not know what to say, only that anything he's mentioned immediately after she's trailed off has been wrong. At least, he thinks, he has beer, shade, and music while she struggles.

And struggle seems to be the right word. She shifts, her lower lip vibrates as through she is about to say something. Finally, she shifts her head to look at him and he turns to return her gaze.

"I believe you are a good man, but I believe that this can only end poorly. Do you understand? That your heart will be broken if you keep going like this? Pretending I am something that I'm not? I will hurt and I do not wish to hurt you."

"So then I'll be hurt."

"And I will be the one who suffers because of it!" She takes a deep breath and looks back to the screen. "I'm not the kind of woman you take to the cinema. I am not someone you hope you can charm and woo. I take what I need from a man when I need it. This entire experiment has only confirmed that." She seems to wrestle with herself, the final words coming out in a hot spill, like they've boiled over some wall. "Can we please go?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I wanted to take you to one of my favorite movies."

She leans forward now, eyebrows raised, both of her hands grabbing his forearm. "Why? Look at me. Why would you take me out over keeping me in, fucking me, having me?"

"It's not just about you." He looks her up and down, tries to understand why this is such a concern for her. "It's about what I want."

"To—treat me right? To get something from me? To make me feel another way?"

"I—you're overthinking this."

"At least one of us is thinking, then. Don't make me compensate and I'll stop doing it." She smirks and grasps him harder. "Why are we here?"

"The movie is going to start and, one way or another, you're going to see a part of me in it. I like this one a lot because the guy tries to be better after he loses the girl, not to get her. I like how he does it. I like the car chases. I like it all." He looks her up and down and feels a tightening in his throat. That little lump that expands to make sure you can breathe even when your body is telling you run, fight. "And I wanted you to see it and then you could know something about me."

"If you wanted me to know something about you, I would ask. Do you not trust me to ask?"

Her grip lessens and her eyes seem more watery than normal, but maybe it's just the darkness; he cannot tell for certain. So he puts down his beer and turns to her, putting his free hand on one of hers. "I trust you to ask. Stop—listen. I trust you to ask. I wanted to give you something without you having to request it."

"You understand that sharing yourself with me may not be something that brings us closer together, don't you?"

He smiles, he pats her hair and looks into her eyes before his head bows under the weight of knowing that there is no winning. There is only playing the game out for a little bit longer. That she will, in the end, leave one night and never come back. But he tells himself he knew that before looking back into her eyes. "If I tell you the truth, all of it, will you listen?"

She nods.

"Of course I know. I knew it before I saw you, and I knew it after I did, and I knew it this morning, and I know it now. In fact, not only am I acutely aware if I do share something with you that you might not care for it? But I'm pretty sure anything I share with you that isn't sexual may just make you run away screaming. That there is nothing I could do so terrorizing as tell you of a childhood memory or how much I enjoy you. That somehow, somewhere along the line you learned that someone saying this is some kind of devil. And it must be working for you because here you are, a young surgeon, safe, in a relationship she dictates. But you know what? Whenever you think you're going to hurt me, like your leaving will rip me in two? I think you mean it and I think you mean it because you've gotten so damn used to evading—"

"Could you stop?"

"Yeah."

He exhales, his breath hot enough that he realizes he's been going faster than he intended. She looks at him for a long moment, smiles and whispers, "I would kiss you now, if I could."

She turns back to the screen in such a way that he is unsure of what to make of it, and after a moment, he does the same.

Then, after a moment, as the screen starts to flicker, he feels one of her fingers stroking in circles in his palm. It traces odd patterns before the heat of her palm meets his. The world is long and slow and the movie seems far away until her fingers lace between his. When she squeezes his hand in the dark, he wonders if everything he just said was a lie.

That maybe he'd indeed feel empty after she left.