They watched two.
I booked the 8:30 showing for opening weekend.
Two reserved seats.
Row F.
Exactly in the middle.
I even bought Owen a Spider-Man shirt as a joke.
He proudly wore it.
That Friday evening, Frank was asleep in his recliner when we left.
Mrs. Pham sat nearby knitting.
“Go,” she told us. “Enjoy yourselves. I’ll call if I need anything.”
Owen lingered near the door.
“What if he wakes up confused?”
“She knows what to do.”
I took his hand.
“Two hours, Owen. Tonight you don’t have to be a caregiver. You get to be a man going to a movie with his wife.”
He smiled.
“Just a guy at a movie.”
“Exactly.”
The
theater was packed.
Children wore superhero costumes.
Teenagers crowded the concession stand.
The lobby smelled like butter, candy, and that strange carpet scent every movie theater seems to have.
Owen breathed deeply.
