She patted the couch next to her, beckoning Gwen to sit. Gwen left the babies on the floor and sat next to Leigh, their thighs touching. Leigh clasped Gwen’s hand, and there was something about this touch, the simplest of human touches, that made Gwen start to cry. She and Jeff were having sex again, but that didn’t make her cry. The entirety of his body pressed against hers wasn’t nearly as comforting as Leigh’s palm pressed into her palm.
“I want you to have whatever kind of life you want,” Leigh said, squeezing Gwen’s hand.
Gwen cried harder. Why couldn’t Jeff say something like that to her?
“I don’t know why I’m always freaking crying around you,” she said.
“You need nurturing,” Leigh said. “You are depleted. That’s why you’re crying. That’s why you’re having dreams about Angeni Luna.”
Nurturing.She associated it with what she was doing for June on a day-to-day, minute-to-minute basis. The fact that she needed it for herself came as both a shock and a relief.
“I have an idea,” Leigh said. “Let’s get out. Do something fun.”
Gwen was immediately hesitant. She knew it was doubtful that she and Leigh had the same idea of fun.
“You are seriously looking at me like I’m going to suggest going to a strip club,” Leigh said.
“I mean, Icansee you suggesting that.”
“With our babies. Now that would be a scene,” she said.
Leigh stood from the couch, looking like a woman on a mission.
“Let’s go to the movies. Dark, air-conditioned theater. The girls will nap. We can eat junk food and think about something besides motherhood for a couple hours.”
Gwen couldn’t remember the last time she’d been to the movies. When they were younger, Gwen and Jeff used to go to the movies a lot. It was an easy date. There was something romantic about cuddling up in the theater, sharing popcorn.
“The matinee price is, like, eight bucks,” Leigh said. “They’re showing this movie from a few years ago at the indie theater I love. I’ve been wanting to go, just haven’t had the courage to do it alone with Belle.”
“What movie?” Gwen asked, still mulling over the idea. Sitting in a theater did sound nice. If Belle or June lost their shit, they could just leave. It was unlikely there’d be many people in the theater to disturb.
“It’s calledPortrait of a Lady on Fire,” Leigh said.
Gwen had never heard of it.
“Sounds like another title option for your memoir.”
The theater was a short walk from Leigh’s condo. It wasn’t one of those mega-theaters with the heated recliner seats and giant screens. It was tiny. It looked to be an old playhouse that had been converted into a theater. There were only three screens, and they were all showing foreign-language films that Gwen had never heard of. She had assumed her first movie theater experience with June would be a Disney film, a theater packed with raucous children. This was a much more interesting outing.
Leigh paid for their tickets and bought enough candy for several people—Junior Mints, Red Vines, M&M’s, Milk Duds. They walked into theater 3 with the girls strapped to their chests. Both babies were quiet, probably too distracted by the newness of this place to raise much of a fuss.
There was nobody else in the theater. They sat in old, creaky seats in the exact middle. Leigh put her Converse-adorned feet up on the seat in front of her and turned Belle to face the screen.
“It’s R-rated. Would Angeni Luna approve?” Leigh said.
Gwen put her feet up on the seat in front of her and turned June to face the screen too.
“I’ll ask her the next time she appears in my dreams.”
The lights dimmed, and Leigh tore open the bag of M&M’s. She passed the bag to Gwen, and Gwen shook some of the candy into her palm.
“I cannot remember the last time I had candy,” Gwen said.
“Angeni Luna definitely wouldn’t approve. So processed. So many chemicals. What happens in the movie theater stays in the movie theater.”
The previews started, and the babies looked on, enthralled. When the opening credits of the movie started rolling, Leigh leaned over and said, “This movie is so beautiful. I think you’ll love it.”
“Wait, you’ve seen it before?” Gwen said.
