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A young couple walk into the park, holding hands. They must be in their mid-twenties. She has on cut off denim shorts and a bright pink sleeveless t-shirt. He’s wearing khaki shorts with a beige t-shirt. Her long, blonde hair is pulled back in a fishtail plait, and his brown hair is short at the sides but long on the top, giving him a shaggy look. He’s carrying a Frisbee under his free arm. They’re laughing and smiling together. He leans over, presses himself into her body, and steals a kiss from her lips. I watch them with interest. They’re so in love it makes my heart swell with affection for the two of them. But it’s also tinged with jealousy because I know I’ll never have that. I’ll never trust another man again. There’s only one person I’ll ever allow near me, and that is my brother. When I moved to California, he came with me. There was nothing for him in New York. He likes big open spaces to ride his bike, and he certainly gets it here with Cambria being on Route One. I don’t see him that often. He has made a new life here, and I...well I have my baking and staring out of the window.
I watch the couple as they take turns throwing the Frisbee to each other. They’re laughing and joking the entire time. The man deliberately sends the plastic disc high in the sky, causing the woman to jump for it. His eyes follow her breasts, which mimic her movement every time she bounces. He rearranges himself in his shorts, and I suddenly feel sick. I may long for someone to love me, but I could never handle the physical aspects of a relationship. I’ll continue to be a voyeur and watch from the safety of my home. The couple come closer together, and they kiss, but as it deepens, I know now is the time for me to turn away.
What to do now? It’s not the time for the cooking program I like? I look at the clock, it’s only been a few minutes since I took the cake out of the oven. It won’t be cool enough to cut and eat. My stomach rumbles, and I pat it.
“You’ll have to wait. I don’t want a burnt tongue.” I chuckle to myself and catch sight of the newspaper. Reading it will pass another five minutes, and then, hopefully, the cake will be just the right temperature.
I unwrap the elastic band from around the newspaper and put it back down on the table. I take a seat in my favorite armchair and start reading. It’s not overly exciting: car crash, local schoolgirl donates hair to charity, local author changes from writing Christian romance to erotica, that sort of thing. I flick through the paper and land on the movie theater pages for Paso Robles—a bigger town a thirty-minute ride from here. My eye is instantly caught by the movie they’re showing, Erin Brockovich. I was only eleven when it came out, but it was the movie that made me want to be a lawyer. I loved it. I’ve not seen it in ages, and when I moved here, I left my DVD player behind. I could download it, but there’s nothing like watching it at the movie theater. I really want to go, so I pull out my mobile and open my google maps app. Having entered in the address of the movie theater and my current location, I hit search, and it confirms that it is indeed a thirty-minute drive. I can do that. It’s not far and the route seems easy. I look at the times of the showings. They have them during the day, which means I don’t need to go out in the dark. I can do this. If I plan it correctly, I can go and watch my favorite film. I’ve not been to a theater in years, but I always used to enjoy it when I was younger. I double check the directions and the times.
“Right,” I tell myself. “Jasmine Walker, this is your favorite movie. You can go to there. You don’t have to talk to anyone the entire way. You can probably order your ticket online, and then all you have to do is hand a printout to the clerk. You can even sneak in a piece of cake and eat it, meaning you don’t have to talk to anyone and ask for food. You can make sure that you don’t sit near anyone. You can do this. This is your favorite movie, and you’ll have fun,” I reassure myself. The Cognitive Behavior therapy advised me to do this, and it’s worked in the past, hopefully it’ll work this time. I put the newspaper down and stand up. My fingers feel twitchy with anticipation, and I shake them out. I’m going to do this. I can feel the anxiety already starting to build, but I know if I plan things correctly, I’ll be perfectly fine. It’s been five years since I last went to the movie theater, but tomorrow, it will be just like going to the supermarket and buying ingredients for a lemon cake. It’ll be easy and will spur me on to bigger and better things. I go closer to the window, again. The couple are walking out of the park. He has his arm slung around her shoulders, and she’s looking at him adoringly. For the first time in ages, I feel confident. I stride with a bit of a swagger into the kitchen and cut a large slice of cake before telling myself, “This is just a moment. It’ll pass.”
Chapter Three
“This is something I must suffer in silence.”
I step out of my car and lock the door before I look around the parking lot. I did it. I made my way here without turning around and running back to my bed to hide. This is a massive achievement, and I’m secretly proud of myself. The movie theater doesn’t look busy. There are only, maybe, three other cars parked here. I spent a lot of time researching what showing times would be the least full, and this one seemed to be it. It was this performance or go to one at two in the morning. There’s no way I’m driving around on my own in the dark.
I check three times that I’ve locked the car door. Otherwise, throughout the entire showing, I’ll be worrying whether my car will still be here when I get back or not. If it was gone, that would be sure to bring on a panic attack. I’d have to call the police to report it stolen and then try to get home. The police would want to talk to me, and knowing my luck, they’d be men. Well….. I wasn’t going to go there. It was just easier to check the car three times and be relaxed about entering the theater foyer.
I have my ticket printed out and tucked in my Marc Jacobs handbag. This particular bag was the only one I brought with me when I came here. It was my favorite, and the one I treated myself to when I’d gotten my first decent paycheck from my lawyer internship. Well, six or seven decent paychecks, and only once I had bought enough food to last the week. I pat the bag knowing that with the ticket inside, I don’t need to talk to someone to buy one. I just have to show them the ticket to get into the actual screen and, at that point, conversation wasn’t required. Not forgetting, I have my slice of cake in my bag as well.
I push open the foyer door and enter the theater. There are a few people in here. More than the number of cars outside. I count them. Ten: two women and eight men. Why did there have to be that many men? Don’t they have anything to do during the day other than watch movies? Evidently not, since they are here.
“Come on, Jasmine,”—I tell myself— “you can do this. Five: billboard, drinks-stand, candy-stand, ticket-office, toilets. Four: floor, ceiling, walls, window. Three: music, people, tickets being printed. Two: cookies, lemonade. One: popcorn..mmm…. popcorn.”
My tummy rumbles in agreement at how delicious the smell is. I really want to get some, but the person serving is a man. A spotty faced college student, to be precise. But even so, he has male parts. I stand fixed to the spot while bouncing up and down on my heels as I try to make a decision. Buy popcorn or just go and see the movie. My palms are starting to sweat. No, I can’t allow the anxiety to take over.
I’m thinking that asking him to serve me popcorn will be a solid 100 percent on my anxiety chart, but I’m in a public place, so he can’t hurt me. The worst he can do is refuse to serve me. Last time I looked, however, you didn’t need to have an ID or be over twenty-one to purchase popcorn. I could buy it on my own when I was twelve. How hard can this be? I join the queue of two people, including the one currently ordering. Thankfully, it’s a woman in front of me. She turns around and smiles, and I return the smile before instantly looking down at the floor. She faces forward again, and I breathe a sigh of relief, having not had to interact.
The man currently at the head of the queue orders a giant tub of popcorn and an extra-large cola. I tap my foot impatiently as he digs into his pocket for the money. He has change, small change. Who does that? He counts it out, and I can feel myself getting more and more restless in my skin. By the time he finishes, I’m considering stepping out of the queue, but the popcorn smells so good. The man moves out of the way, and the woman steps up.
“Which is best?” she asks. “You’re sweet or salty?”
“Both are equally good,” the spotty boy behind the counter answers. I can feel him internally rolling his eyes.
“I don’t know.” The woman hums. “Can I try a piece of both please?”
“What?” He looks at her like she’s insane.
“I can’t decide. I’m worried if I buy the sweet, it’ll be too sweet and the salty too salty. I need to see which one is more to my taste.”
I look behind me while the server turns and gets her samples of the popcorn. I notice a few more people have arrived for the movies. Five more women and six more men. That brings the total to seven women and fifteen men. That’s a lot of men in one place. They vary in age from elderly to about nineteen. But it’s the two standing at the ticket counter who catch my attention. Their heads are close together as if they’re planning something. They both look down at the phone one of them is holding and then toward where I’m standing. It’s like they’re looking straight at me. I feel my heart stop beating, and my palms instantly start to sweat. My heart resumes its normal function, but the beat is rapid, and I start to feel dizzy. The two men put the phone away and come closer. My mouth dries, and I will my legs to run away. I can’t handle two of them. They stop in front of me, and I can just about make out the conversation they’re having.
“You know, I’d rather watch ‘Star Wars’,” the taller of the two grumbles.
“I know you would, but you’re kind and caring, and you’re going to watch a chick flick, just for me.” The second one, who’s shorter and sports a goatee beard, laughs.
“Fine, but I’m receiving tonight.” He licks his lips, and I watch with baited breath as he leans in and gives the other a passionate kiss on the lips. They weren’t looking at me. They’ve no interest in me whatsoever. I let out the breath I’ve been holding just as they break their tryst and look over at me. The taller of the two frowns while the shorter of the two nestles into his arms.
“You got a problem?” the more dominant of the two addresses me and brings his partner into his arms.
“No,” I splutter and turn back.
“Prejudice bitch,” they mutter as they wander off in the direction of a repeat of ‘Legally Blonde’.
I try to settle my breathing. I didn’t mean to stare. I’ve got nothing against couples of the same sex. In fact, my mom divorced my dad and hooked up with a lesbian lover. That wasn’t the reason I was staring at them. It was me, the panic, and the anxiety. I honestly thought they were about to attack me.
“Next.” The spotty counter clerk brings me out of my reflection. “What do you want?” he asks, sullenly.
