CineMagic
Page 2
**
“Two for... ugh, is that really the title? God, it really is. Two for Love Amongst the Autumn Leaves,” I grumbled, handing a twenty to the movie theater ticket agent and trying my very hardest not to gag.
“Yes, two!” Lydia agreed with possibly too much cheer. “Because I am a living human being with a physical body who requires her own seat!”
“O...kay,” the young man, who was probably not paid enough to deal with people like us, said. He handed off two tickets and my change (Which was only fifty cents. $9.75 a ticket?! No wonder movie theaters are a dying business), gesturing for us to enter the small theater.
Normally speaking, I prefer to keep Lydia invisible when I take her out of the house. She can only leave by possessing a piece of the foundation that I carry with me, but even then she can't take on a physical form, so it can be troublesome to have her walking around visibly with me. Particularly if someone, say, stumbles and falls through her. People react poorly to that sort of thing, I have found, especially in public. But this was a special occasion.
No, not because it was our official Team Night Out. Because Lydia had wanted to go see what sounded like, frankly, the most chick-flickiest chick-flick ever made. Half the cast had starred in those sparkly vampire movies, and the other half were only not in them because they had been busy making movies about independent women who manage to balance a career while still staying pleasantly quirky for their love interest, who is most likely a roguish doctor. Then probably half of them get cancer.
In other words, I very strongly suspected that I was in for three hours of gentle sobbing, anguished love declarations, PG-13 rated sex scenes, and probably not even one explosion. It was already going to be Hell, a Hell made of “You complete me” and other assorted overused Hollywood love-isms. The shame of being seen alone at such a movie would be enough to disqualify me from the male gender.
The only way out was to play the 'dragged-along boyfriend' card, a strategy that men have used since the dawn of cinema. If anyone gives you a weird look, you just gesture at the highly visible woman who is standing near you and shrug, silently implying that you are here only because said woman totally wants to see the movie in question, and that you would never, ever be here if you didn't think that it might lead to sex with that woman. It was the perfect excuse.
Granted, Lydia was not my girlfriend. The closest thing to a girlfriend I had was a werewolf on the other side of the country who I'd had a one-night-stand with a bit ago. But she was, despite her intangibility and her way-too-formal for the situation evening gown, visibly female. She would make an acceptable girlfriend substitute.
“If this isn't the best sappy romance movie I have ever seen, I'm taking it out on you, kid,” I informed him, as I took our tickets and walked past him into the small lobby. “Right out on you.”
I wasn't actually going to, of course, it's just fun to torment the hired help on occasion. Keeps them on their toes, makes them try harder.
“Eric, stop taunting the servants. They work hard for their tiny salaries,” Lydia chided me.
“You do realize that what you said is way more disheartening to them than what I said, right?” I asked.
Lydia sniffed. “Well, I am entitled to speak my mind, being a representative of a higher economic tier. You, however, are a scruffy mercenary.”
“I am not scruffy, princess.”
“Oh, do not worry, I'm sure that most people do not even notice, based on how you often move about at such a frantic pace, as if you were a squirrel who had gotten into the coffee beans,” Lydia said reassuringly. For a certain value of “reassuring.”
“Remind me again why I keep you around?”
“I like to tell myself it is because you recognize my value as a first-rate business associate and endlessly loyal friend,” Lydia said primly. “However, this may be giving you too much credit.”
I hate her so much sometimes.
“Well, in any case,” I said, determined not to lose this conversation—and yes, conversations have winners and losers, at least the way I do them—, “at least when told I can go anywhere and do anything for my special trip outside, I don't choose to go and do the same thing we would have done if we'd stayed in the house. Seriously? There are museums, and aquariums, and amusement parks, and a whole world of stuff to see. And you pick the movies.”
“I like movies. Besides, Love Amongst the Autumn Leaves—”
“Ugh. Who came up with that title? For the love of God, it honestly hurts me a little bit just to hear it.”
“—has gotten excellent reviews,” Lydia finished. “It has been described as 'the first great love story of the decade', 'a touching and heartwarming display that will make you laugh almost as often as it makes you cry', and 'good.'”
“Wait, just 'good'? Someone wrote a review that was just 'good' and nothing else?” I asked, wanting to make sure I'd heard that one correctly.
“Well, that one was actually our last client. You remember, that nice lady who left the television running when we were talking to her?”
“Oh, right. I came this close to just abandoning the job altogether to go get some fruit pies after that one. Stupid subliminal messaging in the advertising, ruining my razor-sharp focus on the matter at hand.”
“Eric, commercials do not really have subliminal messages. You are just easily distracted.”
“I am n—oh, hey, popcorn!” I said, wandering off to grab snacks.
Lydia zipped after me as fast as her little spectral legs could carry her. “Eric! Need I remind you that if you get too far away from me I will vanish? There are people around.”
“Oh, it's okay. We'll just say it was the magic of the movies that made you disappear. That unique aura of fun that pervades all movie theaters and helps all of us recapture the joy of being children,” I said cheerfully as I stepped up to the concession stand. “I would like an extra-large popcorn, a Colossal Slurpie, a pack of Nuclear Caramel Bites, a pack of Hyper Chocolate Chewies, and a diet cola.”
Gotta watch what I eat, after all.
“Eric, are you certain that this 'aura' you speak of is not just the raw sugar wafting off your body? If you eat that, I suspect you'll have enough in your body to power a small city,” Lydia said with a disapproving sniff.
I gathered up my overpriced junk food with manic glee. “You're just jealous that you can't eat any of this awesomely bad stuff. None of it. All the popcorn shall be mine!”
“And to think you did not want to come,” she said, rolling her eyes.
“If I have to see a movie I don't want to see,” I said staunchly, “I am going to see it with so many artificial flavorings in my blood that I can barely think coherent thoughts. This is how the movies work.”
“Regardless, I do think we should keep a lower profile,” Lydia murmured. “It is not too crowded here, but I would hate for someone to accidentally fall through me, or for them to see me disappear because you got too far away from me. It could cause a panic.”
“I just told you, we'll say it was a movie stunt. That will work!”
“I question that statement, Eric. I question it very much.”
“Shadow on the wall is moving weirdly, about to get cursed,” I said by way of reply.
Lydia sighed, and gestured sharply. There was a flash of blue light, a kind of strangled shrieking noise, and the shadow on the wall stopped moving. Lydia might not have had a physical body or access to nine-tenths of her powers, but she could apparently still hold her own. Granted, this wasn't much of a curse, but that she could stop it at all with her powers so sharply reduced was impressive in its own right.
Several people around the lobby began to mutter, looking around nervously for the source of the bizarre sounds and lights. “Ha, ha!” I said loudly. “What a cute little special effect! Must be advertising for some new movie that's coming out, viral stuff, right? Gotta say, this is a clas
sy place. Don't usually see that kind of immersive experience anymore.”
The muttering continued for a few seconds, but it now sounded less panicked and more amused as most of the people in the hall began convincing themselves that it was all a big joke, and then began trying to give off the impression that they'd been in on said joke from the start. A few even began audibly critiquing the “quality of the special effects” and how “obvious the 'projectors were.”
I smirked at Lydia. “All too easy.”
She sighed. “I am a bit ashamed for humanity that such a transparent excuse actually worked.”
“The world is full of horrible monsters who really don't do that good a job of staying low-profile, yet most people do not notice them,” I pointed out. “I could make a real case for our ability to go into deep-seated denial at the drop of a hat being our defining trait as a species.”
“That is... a bit sad.”
“On the plus side, some truly awesome films and books have only been made because we think that there's no such things as monsters, so it's kind of a trade-off,” I said. “Like, on the one hand, a lot of people die because they're so deep in the natural human tendency to rationalize away or deny what they don't understand that they cannot accept the existence of very real threats that they need to be constantly vigilant against. On the other hand, Buffy was a fun show.”
“The trade-off seems rather lopsided, Eric.”
“Yeah, at first glance, it really does seem like any amount of carnage is a small price to pay for a Joss Whedon show,” I agreed. “But really, only the first five seasons were worth killing people over, so overall it comes out to a more even trade than you'd expect.”
Lydia just stared at me for a few long minutes. I think she was noticing my new haircut. I got it shorter than usual, I think it looked good.
“All right, I think our movie is starting. Are... are you absolutely sure you want to watch... to watch...” I began, my voice trailing off as I remembered exactly what 'our movie' was. I didn't want to say it out loud. It hurt to hear the words,
As usual, Lydia had no problem hurting me, and cheerfully finished my sentence, “Love Amongst the Autumn Leaves.”
I winced. “Good lord, that is really the best title they could think of? Really?”
“It is a fine title for a romantic drama. You just have no class.”
“No. No, it is bad, really bad, and you just don't realize it because you will literally watch any movie that is put in front of you with the rapt joy of a Labrador puppy,” I replied. “From this point on, nobody is to say that title. We will call it That Leaf Movie. That's the only way I'll be able to sleep at night.”
“You are overreacting,” Lydia said with a roll of her eyes. “Attempting to project an aura of masculinity to disguise your insecurities. I am informed that it is a common tactic.”
“If you learned that from watching talk shows, it doesn't count. Those things are full to the brim of armchair psychologists and people who aren't really doctors but call themselves doctor anyway. I hope you realize that.”
“Well, let us proceed to the theater!” Lydia said brightly, changing the subject being one of her three default responses to not being able to think of a valid reply. The other two, in case you were curious, were to look down on me, or to pretend to flatter me. “We have a charming romance to undertake! I'm sure it shall be delightfully cheerful.”