Page 71 of Desire or Defense

“On your own today?” I ask.

He just rolls his eyes and asks what we want. Wow, what customer service. I take a moment to appreciate that Noah isn’t like this, and also steel myself for the angsty teenage years. Yikes.

We get snacks and sodas. Mitch goes for the beef jerky, and I get the sour straws. Of course, he ordered the most protein-packed snack option available. Sweet and salty… both wonderful in their own way, but don’t really go together at first glance. Kind of like us.

Mitch leads me inside the one and only theater room. Not multiple like the modern ones. The place is kind of run down, and looks like no one has vacuumed all week. Little bits of popcorn litter the floor. Not too surprising, considering the only employee I’ve met so far.

“I know it’s not fancy,” Mitch says as he kicks at an empty soda cup. “But the privacy here is top notch.”

I laugh. “That’s okay. I’m happy just to hang out with you. Also, I’m now terrified for Noah to become a teen.”

He huffs out a laugh. “Hormones are the worst.”

We sit down in the very center of the back row and I hum to myself. Mitch’s head whips in my direction at the sound, a question on his scrunched up face. “What?”

“Back row.”

His face eases into a cocky smirk and he does something I never thought he’d ever do… he winks.

Giggling, I take my seat next to him. His mountain man scent making the stale popcorn smell fade away. I lean my head on his big shoulder and the previews start playing on the big screen. Being an old theater, the arm rest between us isn’t one of those that can be pushed up for better snuggling. Damn it. Apparently, we’re actually watching this movie then.

Mitch notices me wiggling the arm rest and smirks. “You can just sit on my lap if you’re that desperate to get close to me.”

“I’m not desperate. Just checking this thing in case there’s an emergency.” I pound on the armrest a few times to get my point across.

“Right.”

We sit silently, watching previews for movies that were released years ago. The title for Stagecoach finally pops up and the long credits start scrolling across the screen. I forgot they used to play before the movie. Mitch leans over and whispers, “Tell me about your parents?”

Taking a deep breath, I whisper back, “Let’s make a deal. I’ll tell you one thing about my parents, then you tell me one thing about yours.”

He rolls his lips together while he thinks it over. “Okay, that’s fair.”

“My mom was the exact opposite of me in every way,” I begin. “Except for our physical appearance.”

“I noticed,” he says with a smile. “From the photo in your house.”

I smile back at him. “She was calm where I’m wild, wise where I'm scattered, and I never heard her complain once… while I’m dramatic about, well, most things. She was just the best. And I'm not just saying that because she’s gone and I’m only remembering the good things. She was really the greatest person ever, I always wanted to be just like her.”

He chuckles, but takes my hand and rests them both on the arm rest. “I didn’t know your mom, but I happen to think you’re pretty great, even if you aren’t just like her.”

I squeeze his hand. “Thank you.” Leveling him with a serious stare, I say, “Okay, your turn.”

He looks away from me, body tensing. He clears his throat and speaks in a low voice. “I don’t have a lot of memories of my mom, but I do remember she had hazel eyes like mine, and her hair was long and dark.” He huffs a laugh. “When I was really little, I used to wrap my finger around the ends of it when she put me to bed. The times she was there to say goodnight to me stand out, because she was gone a lot even before she left. Probably running around with different men. When she did officially leave, I was sad, of course, but I mostly remember my dad’s reaction. I remember him completely changing.”

“I’m sorry, Mitch,” I say, not knowing what words to describe how sorry I am for that little boy who grew up without love and hugs from his own mother. I place my free hand on his arm, hoping the touch lets him know I’m here, and that he can talk to me.

“Your turn,” he says, his voice thick with emotion.

The movie starts playing, but it’s just background noise to our conversation. I’m assuming he’s seen this movie before, because he doesn’t seem to care that he’s missing it.

“My dad worked a lot, and he was quiet. A lot like Noah. I wasn’t as close with him as I was with my mom. He was a good man, just a man of few words. But he loved hockey, especially the Eagles.” I grin at Mitch, then look down at our clasped hands. “He would’ve loved you.”

Mitch stares ahead at the screen for a while, his face looks concentrated and intense. Not like he’s watching the movie, but like he’s deep in thought. Finally, he looks at me. “I wish I could tell you something good about my parents. Something nice. That they’d love you, or how much fun we had. But I just… can’t.”

“Mitch, I’m here because I like you. Because I want to get to know you. I’d like to hear whatever you feel comfortable telling me about your family. Good or bad, I just want to know what makes you… you.”

He nods. “Well, I already told you my good memory. The one about the lion at the circus.” He sighs. “But after my mom left, Dad started drinking. I imagine he wanted to numb the loss. But then he got into drugs too… At first he just purchased them. But the real trouble started when he couldn’t afford to buy them anymore, and started dealing.”