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"Please stop."
"Did you like anything he showed you?"
"Not really. Is that awful?"
"Yeah, he wasn't paying attention to what you wanted," I say.
She laughs. "I mean, am I awful?"
"For liking what you like?"
"It sounds silly that way. But so many women I know do the same thing. They try to get into the bands their boyfriend's like, try to watch their favorite movies, sit there while guys play video games."
"I don't like video games." They remind me of the guy I used to be.
"Really? A twenty-something man who doesn't like video games?"
"I have to rest my hands."
"Keep them fresh for work?"
"And other uses."
She blushes. It's subtle with her tan skin, which only makes it sexier. "I, uh, started to dive into film after we broke up. There are a few movies I love, but I don't know what you like. I don't want to be like Zack. I want something we'll both enjoy."
"I'm up for anything."
"Really?"
Anything she picks, yeah. I'm sure she wants to watch something substantial. And, these days, I try to open my eyes as much as I can. Invite other points of view. "Anything."
"I'm kinda tired. So something easy, okay?"
I nod.
She picks another old movie.The Apartment.
It's good. Interesting.
Perfect really, except for one very awkward moment.
The one that underscores what a fucking mess I am.
Shirley MacLaine's character takes a bottle of sleeping pills. She tries to end her life.
The same way Deidre did.
ChapterThirteen
PATRICK
Imogen falls asleep on the couch. I cover her in a blanket and let her sleep.
I'm not good conversation at the moment.
The flick's happy ending isn't enough to ease the tension in my shoulders.
There are plenty of reasons to like the movie. The writing is sharp. The acting is great. The point of view is surprisingly modern.
