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The dad of the group smiles at Elouise, “Four, please.”
She smiles back, but instead of taking his offered card, she swipes mine.
He looks back-and-forth between me and Elouise, but she doesn’t offer an explanation other than, “You’re all set. Enjoy!”
The dad does another double take, then pushes his family along.
Making no move to look at me, Elouise greets the elderly couple that steps up next. The woman tries to hand over money, but Elouise waves them off, “Your tickets are free tonight.” Then she swipes my card again.
When the process repeats for a third time with a single attendee, I can no longer hide my smile. And this time, when they walk away, I’m the one who calls out, “Enjoy the show!”
The next family moves to the front of the line, and I count a total of eight people.
Having seen the same thing, Elouise sighs and holds my card up for me to take back. At $12 a pop, this family will cost nearly $100 and she’s trying to give my card back. I nearly grin. She’s pissed, obviously, but she’s not so pissed that she’ll try to spend all my money. It’s cute.
But instead of taking the card back, I cross my arms.
With a roll of her eyes, she turns back to greet them.
As she types in the ticket quantity, I move closer and lower myself until I’m kneeling on the rough industrial carpet next to her. My joints protest the movement, but I want to be eye-to-eye when I say this, even if she chooses not to look at me.
“I’m not married.” I keep my voice low, the drone of milling bodies in the large lobby preventing anyone but her from hearing me. “The woman you met was my ex-wife.” She doesn’t acknowledge that I’m talking, but I watch her grip on the tablet tighten. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about her. I wasn’t trying to keep it a secret, I just…” I shuffle closer on my knees until my chest is nearly against her shoulder. “I’m not proud of my failed marriage, and I didn’t want to spend the little time we’ve had together talking about it.” The image of Elouise brushing away tears after fleeing my parent’s house slams into my brain and my chest is back to aching. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry you found out the way you did. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I never want to hurt you.”
A new family steps up to the table but I don’t move my eyes away from Elouise’s face. “The divorce was finalized a few days before I moved back, but we’ve been separated for a long time. I haven’t lived with Kira for over a year.”
Elouise still isn’t responding to me, and I’m not sure how to take that.
I place a hand on her thigh, the denim warm under my palm. “I brought a photo of my signed divorce papers if you want to see them,” I offer, feeling like a total dumbass.
When Elouise slides my card through the reader again, she’s a little more forceful than she’s been on the previous occasions.
I grimace, “I’d really rather not call my ex, but I will if you need to hear it from her.”
Elouise tells the family to go ahead, then turns her head just enough to see me, “Why did your mom think you were still together?”
“Because I’m a shitty son,” I admit, knowing it’s true. “I told her when we separated that we were going to get a divorce. But like I said that was a year ago, and for once in her life, my mom didn’t pry, and I didn’t bring it up again. I figured she didn’t ask because she knew I wouldn’t want to talk about it. But when Kira showed up on their doorstep, with the worst fucking timing ever, my mom assumed we’d reconciled. And that you and I were just friends.” I tell her, urging her to believe me.
She watches me for a long moment, “Maybe that’s all we should be.”
“No!” my fingers dig into the softness of her thigh, and I take a breath to calm my tone. “No. That’s not what we are. We’re more than that.”
“It was one time,” she’s trying so hard to appear unaffected by the conversation, but I can feel her thigh trembling under my grip.
“Babe, that was just the first time.”
The rise and fall of her chest quickens, and I know she’s reliving the same memories I am.
I press in even closer, “I swear to you, that I’m telling you the truth. I’m an idiot. An asshole. A total piece of shit for letting it happen the way it did. But I promise that I’m not lying. I’m not married. Her and I are over. And if I wasn’t such a crap son, I would’ve told my mom everything. About Kira. About us.” She’s not saying anything, and I don’t know how to take it. “I’m so fucking sorry, Babe. I wasn’t trying to keep secrets from you, or keep you a secret from anyone else.”
“Uh,” a stranger clears their throat, “two tickets, please?”
The stream of people pouring into the lobby has slowed but the line is still long enough that these interruptions won’t stop.
“Charge me for the rest of the tickets,” I tell her, flexing my fingers.
Elouise and the stranger both turn to look at me, but I nod to the tablet.
“Um, what?” she perplexes.
