Two Tickets for the 6:30 Show

movie tickets

I love going to the movies.  I still remember the very first movie I saw in a theater.  It was Bambi, and I went with my aunt, uncle and cousins.  I remember crying when Bambi’s mother died.  In spite of the sadness, I was enthralled.

Tony and I wrote movies together, but we also went to see them together.  A lot.  The first movie we ever went out to see was Lost in Translation.  During our time together, we went to the theater and saw hundreds of movies together.  We didn’t go every week, but we went at least a couple of times a month, and there were stretches where we did go every weekend.  The last movie we saw together was Looper.  Tony didn’t like it, and insisted that we leave.  I wasn’t really loving it either, but would have stayed for the whole thing because I wanted to see how it ended, and because every film I see is a learning experience for me as a screenwriter.

After I hurt my back in October and wasn’t able to sit in a theater seat (or any seat, for that matter) without excruciating pain, Tony went (with my encouragement) to see two films by himself.  He saw Argo and Lincoln, and loved both of them.

Until this past Friday night, I had not been to a movie since before I hurt my back.  It hasn’t felt right, not without my movie-going partner.  Not without Tony to share a Diet Coke with and roll my eyes at after a bit of clunky dialogue, or grip his arm during a scary part, or warm my cold nose (my nose is always freezing in movie theaters) against his shoulder.

But then last week my sister Stephanie was supposed to see Star Trek with a friend.  She had IMAX passes.  Her friend had to cancel, and I found myself saying, “We could go see it.”  I think I surprised her with that.  The truth is, I surprised myself.

So we went.  By the time we got there, the 7:00 show was sold out.  We were disappointed, but it turned out Iron Man 3 was still playing, it was starting at 6:30 and we had ten minutes to spare.  My sister loves Robert Downey Jr. (as do I) and so we went with it.  I had a tough moment at the beginning.  Iron Man’s real name, in case you don’t know, is Tony.  Tony Stark.  There’s a scene at the beginning where his girlfriend Pepper is trying to wake him from a nightmare, and she’s yelling his name.  I had a little bit of a panicky feeling, but Stephanie reached for my hand and I got through it. 

I enjoyed the movie.  It wasn’t anything earth-shattering.  It was very explode-y and action-y, with lots of Robert Downey Jr. to ogle and some really smart, funny dialogue courtesy of writer/director Shane Black.  Stephanie and I put on our goofy 3-D glasses, shared some popcorn and peanut butter M & M’s (dinner of champions) and laughed and flinched and oohed and aahed our way through it.  It was fun.  I thought of Tony many, many times during the movie.  I missed him most, I think, when Tony Stark referred to a character as Laurence Oblivier, because that would have cracked my Tony up.  He would have let loose with the full-throated laugh he had, the one I loved and miss so much.

It hurts to think that I will never sit in a theater with Tony again.  What I know now, though, is that I can sit in a theater and enjoy a movie, still.  I can go with someone I love and trust, and we can laugh and share popcorn.  I have lost so much, but it’s nice to know I still have the movies.

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10 thoughts on “Two Tickets for the 6:30 Show

  1. You still have lots of things, lovie. I’m glad you went. And you can warm your nose on my shoulder any time you want- but you know that during the scary parts I will be in the lobby, so we’d better bring a spare adult. xoxoxoxoxoxoxox

  2. I have been reading your blog for a while, and I want you to know that you encourage me. My husband and I are big movie-goers, and general movie watchers from home. I struggle deeply with depression, and reading a post like this one helps me realize that I’m important to have around. How would my husband be able to make it through a movie without someone leaning on him?

    However, in the dark moments, I often think about what it would be like if I wasn’t here. What would be like for our three young kids? Would my husband be anything other than a puddle of goo on the floor? It usually shakes me awake mentally. Seeing your recovery is hard to imagine, but beautiful to watch. Thank you.

    • Thanks Ruth — I’m glad you’re reading, and glad that what I’m writing is encouraging you. I know what my husband struggled with, and I wish that you were not struggling with depression. It’s such a hard thing. You are important to have around. I don’t know you personally, but your husband and kids and probably more people than you can even imagine are glad that you are. And so am I.

  3. It felt like a gift to go to the movies with you. Actually, I think it was an exchange–a gift given and a gift received. You are brave and beautiful. P.S. I loved it when we bumped 3D glasses, just like an ultimate dork date moment. And I love you.

  4. Hey,
    I am very happy for you to be able to watch a movie in the theater (even though I am not a science fiction fan, I think, I can imagine how nice it was). Eversince I lost my ‘loved one’, I havn’t been able to watch any of the stuff we used to watch. We had a pretty awkward habbit: everytime, we felt anger or a dispute, or even sometimes whenever we had time, we watched americas funniest homevideos. Since I am not native American, I didnt know the show, but whenever we watched it we both laughed so hard and we both saw the love in each others eyes…..Eversince she left me, partly because of my depression, I havnt been able to watch that show or any other we used to watch together, even though I want it so badly. I just cant….the emotions and memories burst to the surface as soon as I type in the shows name.
    I really wish, I were in a same place as you are and being able to enjoy movies without the pain of old memories…..

    Thoughtfully,

    David

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