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Should I mention that both movies sound awful? Why on earth would they want to watch such depressing shit?
“Go… The Notebook,” Kate suggests.
Charlie smiles, clicking the remote and locating the movie on the hard drive. She dims the lights in the theater as I plonk myself next to Kate. She’s holding a box of tissues, then grabs a slice of pizza as the movie begins.
Thirty minutes into the movie, I’ve lost interest. “So, why is this helping us right now?” I complain.
“Because it’s one of the greatest love stories. It’ll make you smile, laugh, and cry all at the same time,” Charlie responds with a waver in her voice.
I’ve devoured a whole pizza when the movie becomes interesting. Okay, the female lead is fucking gorgeous and the story becomes somewhat sad. Somewhere during the middle, it all begins to make sense, and the girls beside me have their tissues scrunched up in their hands with tears streaming down their faces. I’m not sure why. Sure, it is sad, but nothing that depressing.
And then, the old lady screams at her husband, and the realness of the situation leaves an empty pit in my stomach. Charlie and Kate are a mess. I swallow the lump in my throat—it is actually quite sad.
Charlie pauses the movie and tells us she’ll be back in a few minutes. She returns with three tubs of ice cream. I pick the vanilla, and she presses play again as we all eat out of the cartons.
The end of the movie is almost near and I seriously can’t take it anymore. It’s so sad and depressing, I finish the carton of ice cream and I’m not any closer to feeling better about myself.
Kate’s leaning on my shoulder for support. “If you and I fall in love will you visit me every day and tell me stories?” Kate asks between sobs.
“Sure,” I humor her. “Do we need to fall in love? What if this Rachel McAdams is single? You know I’m not one to settle.”
Kate pulls back. “Three words for you… Lesbian. Anal. Fisting.”
I keep my smile hidden.
Charlie scowls, not getting the joke. “Honestly, the two of you are terrible. Two peas in a pod. Maybe it’s not such a bad idea that you guys fall in love. Then I would stop hearing about your tragic love lives…” She pauses, then continues with a mouthful of ice cream, “And I don’t want to know why you’re talking about lesbian anal fisting. Is that even a thing? My ass wants to die thinking about that.”
Lex walks into the room, dressed in a suit. He’s just come home from work, spending the day in San Diego at a business conference. The story of his life.
“Oh no, they got to you, didn’t they?”
Charlie runs up to Lex and gives him a great big hug, crying into his shoulder and telling him that if she ever lost her memory, she would want him to read to her every day about their lives and the girls. He indulges the hug, but rolls his eyes at the same time. Lex sits down and Charlie curls on top of him.
“Thanks, you guys, you know what’s more depressing than this movie? Seeing you guys all lovey-dovey,” Kate says, slumped in the chair.
“We could cuddle?” I joke, throwing a pillow at her face.
“I know you too well. You try to charm me that way and the next minute, you’re gabbing on about anal fisting again.”
Lex watches us, amused. “Should we leave you two alone?”
“No,” Kate jokes. “Please don’t. Noah just likes to push my buttons because he knows he can.”
“It’s very true.” I smile.
“Wait? Did you just... did you smile?” Kate grins.
“He smiled,” Charlie roars. She jumps off Lex and rejoices with Kate. “We made you smile. See, you’re healing your broken heart.”
“It’s the anal fisting,” Kate cheers. “The anal fisting made him smile.”
Lex grins at us until he breaks out into laughter. “I’m all for a good time but please, for the love of God, please stop talking about anal fisting.”
The four of us laugh until we’re out of breath, just when Lex gets a call from his London office. Kate joins him in his office, leaving Charlie and me alone. She suggests we go outside to get some fresh air while the other two discuss work.
“Noah,” Charlie says my name softly, sitting beside me on the chair on the patio. I don’t want to talk to anyone, wallowing in self-pity seems much more fitting. And I know she wants to talk about Morgan, again.
“Charlie, I don’t want to talk about it.”
