A Night To Remember

As he tightened his grip, the ticket in his palm crumpled into a bowtie as his eyes again pored over the message on his phone. A dismal frustration clouded him, everywhere and nowhere at once. He glanced at his watch again, then back at the clock on his phone, as if to catch one of them playing a game with him. 

The lights above his head flickered as he noticed that the hallway had become deserted. The concessions stands' plain metallic shutters had fallen over its counter space, not barring you from wanting but from reaching their myriad of treats inside. The usher gave him a third look. This one was final, the man knew, as the hush overtook the theater beyond the red wooden doors.

He'd meant for this to be an evening for the both of them. Planned weeks in advance, reminders set tactfully, calendars cleared, dress clothes dry-cleaned, options for dinner afterward charted out to the minute.

The first black cloud started to grow over them Tuesday morning; a friend from out of town had sprung back into existence. Peace Corps next year, who knows when we'd ever get to see her again, of all the times to visit, isn't that a shame, dear?

The second black cloud grew over the topic of Peace Corps, learning more about her upcoming trip, the hardships she'd have to endure, how brave she was to do such a grand thing, honestly I bet she'll come back a completely changed person, makes me sort of wish I had the nerves to do something like that, you know?

She got hold of Susie and Megan, can you believe that, they haven't even seen each other in months, feels like, they're going to try to plan something near the theater on Friday, I told them about tonight, of course, but if I could I'd try to pop by. And the trifecta of clouds coalesced.

She hadn't answered her phone that whole morning. At lunch, he saw that she had loved a post of Ms. Peace Corps on Instagram, which had been posted that same day.

Fine, he thought. That's her decision, I can't change that at this point. All I have left to me is the decision I make for myself. He said, nearly standing up to go and beg the usher to lead him to his seat back inside. As he rose, the cool air of maturity puffed out of him and he sat back down with a haughty thud, ire filling his lungs and his nose and his muscles like firewater prickling up his every nerve. She knew this was the night, their night. Her face flashed in his mind's eye like a fast-forward montage, and in that moment he hated every scene. The smile that mocked his careful scheduling, the way she tossed back her head as she laughed at whatever fancy alit upon her, those kind, greedy, excited eyes drumming up their next big adventure and scoping the scene for partners in crime, never himself, of course, but gazing around him, behind him, beyond him toward whoever was up next.

With one motion he ripped the ticket in two and stuffed the halves into a trash can. He barged outside and marched down the street until he found a bar, and after a moment's hesitation, barreled inside. He flagged down the bartender and ordered a double as he toyed with the square felt box in his coat pocket.