Chapter 7 #2
“Can you babysit Joe for me while I buy tickets for the three of us, please?” She nodded very seriously. His words had been very intentional there. A cautious poke so that I knew not to worry about my own ticket.
Warmth flooded my chest.
Jason kissed Marybeth’s cheek. She chortled, dropping her salute so she could tip into the kisses. He kissed it again. Another giggle. Then he was off, leaving Marybeth behind to “babysit me” as he headed to the counter to pay.
Marybeth regarded me, her smile fading a smidge.
I was no stranger to interacting with kids. Which was why I knew I could be intimidating, especially to little folk. And why I knew how to talk to them so they wouldn’t be scared.
“Hi,” I said, keeping my voice gentle.
“Hi,” Marybeth said back, smiling at me shyly.
“I’m Joe.” I didn’t stand up, worried my height would freak her out. Jason was tall but not as tall as I was. And besides, he wasn’t solid muscle like me.
“I know,” she said, a clever little smirk on her face. “Uncle Jason said so.”
“Okay, sassy.” I grinned, digging around in my pockets for something to give her. “You like apples?” I’d picked a small one up on my run last night. A late bloomer. It’d sat forgotten in my pocket. Forgotten until now, anyway, as my fingers bumped against its smooth surface.
Marybeth perked up.
Kids were so much easier to talk to than adults.
I pulled the apple out, amused and delighted when Marybeth’s eyes lit up.
“That’s the littlest apple I’ve ever seen!” she said, obviously amazed. She cupped her small hands beneath it. I dropped it into them, unable to hide my grin. “Thanks, Joe!”
“No problem.”
Jason returned a second later.
His eyes drank me in, settling on my mouth in particular.
I dropped my grin quickly, but the heat of Jason’s knowing blue eyes lingered even with it gone. He had a giant bucket of popcorn in his grip, as well as a stack of colorful candy boxes, and three empty cups.
Jason offered the cups to me with a pointed waggle.
“Diet Coke, please,” he said. “I’ve gotta watch my figure. And for Miss Marybeth—”
“Sprite!” Marybeth finished for him.
I was on my feet a second later, moving slower than usual—again, because I didn’t want to freak the kid out. Jason’s fingers brushed mine when he passed the cups to me. I shivered.
Had Jason always been this way? This…kind? This sure of himself? I wasn’t certain I’d ever seen him without a manic grin on his face.
Patrick’s words came back to me, unbidden.
There are worse friends to have.
Jason and Marybeth observed as I headed to the drink fountain and filled our cups.
I spilled a bit. I tended to do that. Spill.
With liquids. I cleaned up the mess with one of the napkins, just grateful it hadn’t been wine, and I hadn’t leaked all over myself like I had at my buddy Roderick’s wedding.
God, that sounded bad.
I meant leaked—as in the wine. Not…ugh.
Jason didn’t comment on my clumsiness as I returned to the little group, this time juggling the full drinks. I was surprised. Considering his penchant for teasing, I would’ve expected at least a little ribbing.
But nope.
Nothing.
He was friendly and sass-less as he led us toward the ticket booth.
As we walked, Marybeth showed Jason her tiny apple. I puffed up with pride as she gushed about how it was, “the ittiest bittiest, cutest little apple in the whole wide world!”
“That thing is absolutely adorable,” Jason agreed. “Just like you.” He blew her a kiss, and she grinned, ducking her head shyly though she was clearly pleased.
“Oh hey, Jason!” the attendant said when we arrived at the booth. She barely looked at our tickets before handing them back. Her smile was sunny. Jason’s magnetic pull was hard at work, sucking all of her attention toward him.
“Hi, Trina,” Jason said back, just as warmly. “How’s your uncle’s knee doing?”
“Oh, you know. Better? As better as can be anyway.”
“I imagine he won’t be ice fishing again anytime soon.”
“Definitely not.” She cackled, and gestured to her right. “Theater six! Last door on the left.”
“Thanks!” Jason strutted forward, arms too full to hold Marybeth’s hand anymore. She didn’t mind though. She copied the way he was walking with a very focused look on her face, swaggering along at his side like his tiny mini-me.
“You wanna help carry something?” Jason asked her, pausing halfway down the hall. She nodded. He offered her the boxed candy, which she took with the utmost seriousness.
I shouldn’t have been surprised that Jason was good with kids. Nor should I have been surprised that even the people at the theater seemed to know him. Everyone loved Jason. Everyone.
I was just late to the party, I guess.
I probably should’ve been more upset that I’d somehow been bamboozled into attending the movies with him. Only this time, I had bamboozled myself, so there was nothing to angst about.
I still didn’t know what movie we were seeing. And the waste of precious time made my skin crawl as I trailed dutifully behind the two of them into the dark theater.
Things were up in the air now. I couldn’t ask for the money. So, I pushed the thoughts aside and tried to focus on the present.
Going to the movies was a…friend thing to do, wasn’t it?
I’d never done it.
Not with a friend, anyway. For Christmas, Mom and Dad would take us when we were kids. And a few times, as a teenager, George and Roderick had let me piggyback on one of their dates. Aside from that, though, I’d never had the balls to go to one of these on my own.
Even though I genuinely did like movies.
Jason glanced at the letters lining the aisles to locate our seats. When he’d found what he was looking for, he dipped his head up the aisle to direct us to the correct place. He glanced at me, making sure I was following along.
He was taking care of things so efficiently, my brain began to check out.
Which was not a feeling I was very familiar with.
Normally, I was hyper vigilant.
But right now…I just…weirdly enough, it felt like Jason had it handled.
“You want middle or side?” he asked Marybeth when we’d wiggled our way into the correct row. There were only a handful of other people inside the theater itself, scattered about as far from each other as possible. We probably could’ve spread out, but…I didn’t want to.
“Side,” Marybeth chirped.
“What about you?” Jason turned those all-knowing blue eyes on me. “Middle or side, Joe?”
He always said my name like that.
With purpose.
It made my skin feel hot.
“Side,” I answered, voice gravelly.
“Good deal.” Jason used a shrug of his shoulder to direct me to his right. Heeding the unspoken command, I took my seat in a bit of a daze. Again, I marveled at the fact that I didn’t have to think.
The drinks sloshed as I moved.
Jason didn’t comment.
He sat down between Marybeth and me, legs manspread in that effortlessly confident way he always had, straight out in front of him, ratty tennis shoes on display.
Humming under his breath, he began arranging the candy in his lap. Neatly too. He’d even grabbed a few extra cups so he could divvy out the candy in the most hygienic and fair way possible. It was exactly what I would’ve done, had I been the one to do it.
Slipping deeper into that weirdly fuzzy place in my head, I found myself settling.
He’s got it, my brain provided helpfully. Relax. You never relax anymore.
“Do you have any allergies? Anything you don’t like?” Jason asked me very seriously after he’d finished spreading the food between the three containers. He had a pack of M&M’s hovering above the giant bin of popcorn, just waiting to be poured.
“No.”
“Alright then.” Jason dumped the M&M’s into the popcorn. I frowned, baffled and mildly appalled at the sacrilege. “Don’t make that face. It’s good. You’re going to try it, and you’re going to like it,” Jason told me with surety.
I didn’t have it in me to argue, not when, for the first time since I’d moved away, I could feel my guard actually slipping.
Besides, I quickly discovered he was right.
I did like the snack.
Just like I was now realizing…I might like him.
It was a good movie.
And aside from bumping fingers with Jason in the popcorn bucket, the whole experience was incredibly relaxing.
Jason talked a little, which was bad manners, obviously.
But it was only to explain things to Marybeth that she didn’t understand.
As if he could read her mind, he always seemed to know exactly which bits were confusing her.
It was a kids’ movie.
Home Alone.
One of the ones I’d grown up watching with my siblings during Christmas. I’d always related to the main kid. His need to prove himself. But I’d never had the guts to do what he did, nor had I ever resented my family the way he resented his.
They were loud, yes, nosy, sometimes brash—but they loved me—even if they did judge.
Jason cried during the movie. He clearly loved it. I could relate, I loved it too.
Nostalgia was the medicine I hadn’t known I needed.
Scratch that—Jason was the medicine I hadn’t known I needed.
There was nowhere for me to be.
Nothing for me to do except sit there and enjoy myself.
I hadn’t realized how much I needed that or how high-strung I’d been until the movie ended. The lights came back on. The empty cartons and cups were discarded. And I felt lighter than I had in months. Light enough that I loped ahead of our little party of three to open the door for Jason.
“Thank you.” He arched an expressive brow but otherwise said nothing. This time, he did hold Marybeth’s hand, swinging her back and forth, and making her laugh the whole walk through the theater and back outside.
The sun had already set.
Early.
That was the worst part about fall, in my opinion.
The darkness.
I shivered as I realized I was going to head home empty-handed. I’d listen to the whistle of wind through the holes in the walls and wish I’d lingered at the theater for longer. Simply enjoying the twinkle of Marybeth’s laugh and the peace of having good company.