I entered the cinema with only five minutes to go before the film began. The cool air of the unnecessary air-conditioning helped shake off the remaining panic and dried up the moist layer of sweat on my forehead.
I could make out the back of Oli’s head. His spiked hair gave him away. That, and the fact he was the only one left in the foyer because it was so goddamned late. I reached out and tapped him on the shoulder, tentatively.
“Evie.” He spun round and I almost gasped. His face was like looking at my reflection – his eyes panicked, forehead sweaty, his smile strained. “I thought you weren’t coming,” he said, in a breezy way that didn’t have anything breezy about it. I felt so guilty for being late.
“I’m so sorry,” I said, the guilt blooming in me like a flower. “I, er…got caught up. We’ve still got time, haven’t we?”
Oli’s strained smile became more natural. “Yeah, we’ve only missed the trailers. We probably don’t have time to buy any popcorn or anything though.”
“That’s too bad.”
“I’m so glad you came, Evie.” And then, in a fit of courage, he reached over and took my hand and it felt so lovely that all I could do was stare at our unionized fingers.
“Evie…”
“Huh?” I still stared at our entwined digits.
“Evie?” Oli said louder.
I looked up, confused, still riding the tsunami wave of today’s emotions. Oli’s stark green eyes were scared again. Instantly I panicked.
“What is it?” I asked.
He gulped and took away his hand, scratching the side of his head. “I…umm…there’s something I need to tell you.”
And just as all the worst-case scenarios catapulted into my brain, we were interrupted…
“Hello,” said an unfamiliar voice behind me. “You must be Evelyn.”
What?
“Oh, Oli dear, she’s just as lovely as you said.”
I spun in the direction of the voices and saw two frumpish grown-ups. An older couple, both wearing bobbly cardigans. They beamed at me like I was selling them cookies.
“Evie…” Oli said, his voice shaking. “These are my parents.”
PARENTS PARENTS PARENTS PARENTS PARENTS PARENTS PARENTS?!?!?!?
They held out their hands and I found myself shaking them in shock, and saying, “Nice to meet you.”
“Lovely to meet you too, Evie,” Oli’s mum – MUM?! – said. “But we better be taking our seats otherwise we’ll miss the start of the film.”
We all turned and walked to the cinema door, handing our tickets to the cinema guy, like it was the most normal thing in the world. His parents – PARENTS – walked ahead and disappeared into the darkness before us, their chatter drowned out instantly by the noise of the last trailer.
Oli took my hand again, but oh how different it felt.
He leaned over and whispered, “Don’t worry, we don’t have to sit next to them.”
And we, too, were submerged in the darkness.
Oli was right, we didn’t have to sit next to his parents – PARENTS. They sat a grand total of three aisles in front. Just before the film began, his mum turned round, waved, and literally said, “Coo-eee.”
Oli stared at the giant cinema screen, rubbing his hands together like Lady Macbeth, offering absolutely no explanation for:
a) Why his parents were there,
b) Why he didn’t tell me they were coming, and,
c) WHY HIS PARENTS WERE THERE!
That’s the thing about anxiety. You can worry about anything and everything, dream up all sorts of weird and wonderful situations to be terrified of in the hope your fear will control the world somehow…and yet the world remains uncontrollable. Nothing you can imagine is ever as weird and wonderful as reality and what it chucks at you.
Never, in my history of bad thoughts, had I conjured up:
BAD THOUGHT
What if my date brings his parents?
Three minutes into the Tarantino film, the grisly violence began. Guts splattered against the screen and blood spurted from people’s heads against the backdrop of clever-but-essentially-meaningless (in my filmic opinion) dialogue. I shuffled in my seat and tried to focus on the movie but it was hard. I really wasn’t a fan of this director and I was too distracted by working out what was happening with Oli. I glanced over in the dark. He was leaning right forward in his seat. I looked over at his parents. His mum had already buried her face into his dad’s bobbly jumper.
I had a think.
Possible reasons for why Oli’s parents were here
a) They wanted to see the movie too… But then why was his mum’s head now right up his dad’s bobbly cardigan?
b) They are very overprotective parents… But then wouldn’t he have warned me?
c) He has a bee allergy and they’ve got to be with him at all times in case they have to inject adrenalin into his heart…but he comes to college every day?
Then it hit me…like a cartoon of a light bulb pinging above my head.
Maybe Oli’s got anxiety too.
I looked over again in the gloom.
His feet bounced up and down, his legs jiggled like a jelly in a wind-machine. Check.
His hands tapped on his knees, like a drummer who’d been told his entire family would die if he stopped drumming, even for one moment. Check.
He kept shuffling in his seat, moving positions, over and over, like someone’d tipped an industrial-sized vat of itching powder down his jeans. Check.
I looked down at my own body.
My legs were wobbling. My hands were a-tapping. And I’d readjusted myself more frequently than the director had beheaded a character.
Snap.
BAD THOUGHT
I can’t go out with someone with anxiety.
BAD THOUGHT
It would be like two alcoholics dating each other.
BAD THOUGHT
How the hell am I going to break this to him without causing him more anxiety?
The film wasn’t my thing – yet I didn’t want it to end. I willed it on for ever so the lights would never come up, so I wouldn’t have to deal with the situation. How how how? What was I supposed to do? I couldn’t even message the girls as my mobile would glow too bright and make everyone in the cinema hate me. I couldn’t really explain it to them anyway. What if they laughed and called him a “freak”? Would that mean they’d laugh at me and call me a freak if I let my guard down and wigged out at some point?
The film ended; the lights came on. Oli turned round and grinned, his smile carving more sculpture into his beautiful cheeks.
I wiped my sweaty hands on my clothes. I wiped them again.
“It was great, wasn’t it?” he asked, his voice a bit strained. Or maybe I was imagining it?
“Yeah. Very…umm…violent.”
His smile dropped. “You didn’t like it?”
“No, I loved it,” I lied. “I wonder how they got those guts to look so realistic. Impressive, huh?”
Oli didn’t look convinced. “Yeah, I guess.”
We stood and collected our stuff, letting the people who’d sat in the middle trickle past us. Just as I was wondering what would happen next, I was tapped lightly on the shoulder.
It was his mother. She looked a little bit…green.
“Hey, guys,” she said. “Did you enjoy yourselves?” She was talking like a kids’ TV presenter – all patronizing and over-enthusiastic.
“I don’t think it was for me, but you love this director, don’t you, Oli?”
Oli nodded but stared at the carpet as he did so.
“Anyway, Oli, I’ve had a chat with your father and we’re happy to hang about the cafe for a bit if you two want some time to yourselves?”
Oli nodded again.
“Great…” She looked at her watch. “Shall we all meet back here at half five then? Evelyn, we can give you a lift back if you like?”
“Oh…that’s all right. I don’t mind walking.”