“Enough with all these rubbish excuses,” Jordan says, taking me by the arm. “Let’s go and get the tickets.”
“Tickets, too? When did this become a double date?” I ask through gritted teeth.
“When you invited me.”
I scoff and head over to the ticket booth as Jordan walks over to get popcorn. We regroup in the entrance and I hand the kids their tickets.
“We’ll see you later, then,” Skylar says, dragging Carter along behind her.
“Thanks, Coach K,” he says, as he’s yanked away by my daughter.
“We’re sitting miles away from them,” Jordan points out.
I shrug.
“That was nice of you to give them some privacy.”
“I actually did it for us.”
“I don’t believe you.”
I smile. “Fine, I did it for everyone. Happy? I just wanted us to have a little privacy, too.”
“What exactly do you expect us to do in a room full of people, Kerry?”
“I promised you I’d hold your hand.”
She bites her lip, trying to mask a smile.
“And I don’t want an audience.”
“Please, stop staring at him like that.”
She laughs and turns towards me.
“I don’t think they’re real, you know. I think there’s some CGI involved there; some sort of special effect.”
“On their muscles, you mean? I don’t think so. They’re all real.”
I scoff, turning my attention back to the screen.
“Besides, I always liked the Hulk best. You know, when he wasn’t green.”
“So you like scrawny losers?”
She laughs again.
“I have no hope, then. I’m fucked either way.”
Her laugh has grown into a warm, reassuring smile. She moves her hand towards mine, which is resting on her thigh, and squeezes gently. In the dark, just as I promised I would. The light from the screen is flickering across her face; Jordan turns suddenly towards me, and gives me a shred of hope.
“I’m scared that we’re both fucked.”
* * *
When we walk outof the cinema, I’m still holding her hand. My daughter and her date are a few steps ahead of us, not holding hands. I cast a few glances now and again towards them, but it’s too dark and crowded to work out if anything is going on between them. I don’t know whether to hope that Carter makes a move or pray that he never does; I’m torn between sympathy towards Carter, and my protective, fatherly side.
“He still seems a little nervous,” Jordan whispers to me. “Do you think we should do something?”
