His hand cupped Meg’s elbow as they walked up the carpeted aisle toward the heavy curtains that separated the theater from the lobby.
“When you love someone, you don’t want them to suffer, no matter what they’ve done.”
They followed the other patrons out the door and into the faded sunlight. Without talking about it, they turned left, walking down the sidewalk together.
“Do you really believe that? That loving someone means you want their happiness, no matter what the cost to yourself?”
“Of course.” Meg looked up at him, her eyes wide with surprise, as if she couldn’t imagine why he’d need to ask such a question. “That’s part of loving someone,” she said, as if there could be no question about it.
“I know a few people who’d disagree with you,” he said cynically, thinking of his mother.
“But isn’t a big part of loving someone wanting them to be happy?” They’d stopped in a pool of shadows between two buildings and Meg looked up at him, frowning a little. Ty reached out to take her arm, drawing her a step closer to him to allow room on the sidewalk for an elderly couple to pass.
“I’ve always thought it should be,” he said slowly. Looking down into her eyes, he couldn’t help but notice what a deep, clear blue they were, with not a trace of gray to dilute the purity of their color.
He still held her arm and he could feel the warmth of her skin through the soft cotton of her dress. His fingers tightened, drawing her imperceptibly closer. She drew a shallow little breath, her eyes widening. For a moment, Ty half thought that something passed between them — a tingle of awareness he’d never felt before.
Up the street, a car backfired, the sound sharp as a gunshot. Startled, Meg jerked her head toward the noise and the momentary spell was broken. Ty let his hand fall from her arm and the odd tingle disappeared. His imagination was starting to run wild.
“Can I give you a ride home?” he asked. He was relieved when she shook her head, saying that she’d enjoy the walk.
He didn’t argue and after Meg had thanked him for the popcorn, they parted company. Walking to where he’d left the roadster, Ty gave himself a mental lecture. Meg Harper was just a kid, still in high school, for crying out loud. The more time he spent with her, the harder it seemed to be to remember how young she was.
Remembering how she’d been able to lose herself completely in the movie had him half smiling as he pulled open the roadster’s door and stepped onto the running board. He’d certainly seen much better films, but he couldn’t remember the last time he’d enjoyed one as much. Seeing it through Meg’s eyes had made it seem a little less stale.
He settled onto the soft leather seat and set his hands on the wheel but didn’t immediately start the car. There was no question, a smart man would stick to his original decision and keep a distance between himself and the temptation of those big blue eyes. And he’d always considered himself a very smart man. He sighed as he started the engine.
It might be nice to be a little less smart sometimes.
Smart or not, Ty found himself outside the Criterion the following Saturday afternoon. It was just to give himself something to do, he’d argued as he walked to the theater. But then he saw Meg’s smile when she saw him, and he admitted that he’d wanted to see her again.
After all, where was the harm in watching a movie together? And if he bought her a soda at Barnett’s afterward, that wasn’t a proposition, was it? The fact was, he was tired of reading, tired of listening to the radio, bored with fishing, and most of all, bored with his own company. Meg Harper was good company. Spending an hour or two with her now and then would help to pass the summer, which had begun to stretch endlessly before him.
“I thought I might see you here,” he said as Meg stepped away from the ticket office.
“You did?”
“I’ll buy you a box of
“When you love someone, you don’t want them to suffer, no matter what they’ve done.”
They followed the other patrons out the door and into the faded sunlight. Without talking about it, they turned left, walking down the sidewalk together.
“Do you really believe that? That loving someone means you want their happiness, no matter what the cost to yourself?”
“Of course.” Meg looked up at him, her eyes wide with surprise, as if she couldn’t imagine why he’d need to ask such a question. “That’s part of loving someone,” she said, as if there could be no question about it.
“I know a few people who’d disagree with you,” he said cynically, thinking of his mother.
“But isn’t a big part of loving someone wanting them to be happy?” They’d stopped in a pool of shadows between two buildings and Meg looked up at him, frowning a little. Ty reached out to take her arm, drawing her a step closer to him to allow room on the sidewalk for an elderly couple to pass.
“I’ve always thought it should be,” he said slowly. Looking down into her eyes, he couldn’t help but notice what a deep, clear blue they were, with not a trace of gray to dilute the purity of their color.
He still held her arm and he could feel the warmth of her skin through the soft cotton of her dress. His fingers tightened, drawing her imperceptibly closer. She drew a shallow little breath, her eyes widening. For a moment, Ty half thought that something passed between them — a tingle of awareness he’d never felt before.
Up the street, a car backfired, the sound sharp as a gunshot. Startled, Meg jerked her head toward the noise and the momentary spell was broken. Ty let his hand fall from her arm and the odd tingle disappeared. His imagination was starting to run wild.
“Can I give you a ride home?” he asked. He was relieved when she shook her head, saying that she’d enjoy the walk.
He didn’t argue and after Meg had thanked him for the popcorn, they parted company. Walking to where he’d left the roadster, Ty gave himself a mental lecture. Meg Harper was just a kid, still in high school, for crying out loud. The more time he spent with her, the harder it seemed to be to remember how young she was.
Remembering how she’d been able to lose herself completely in the movie had him half smiling as he pulled open the roadster’s door and stepped onto the running board. He’d certainly seen much better films, but he couldn’t remember the last time he’d enjoyed one as much. Seeing it through Meg’s eyes had made it seem a little less stale.
He settled onto the soft leather seat and set his hands on the wheel but didn’t immediately start the car. There was no question, a smart man would stick to his original decision and keep a distance between himself and the temptation of those big blue eyes. And he’d always considered himself a very smart man. He sighed as he started the engine.
It might be nice to be a little less smart sometimes.
Smart or not, Ty found himself outside the Criterion the following Saturday afternoon. It was just to give himself something to do, he’d argued as he walked to the theater. But then he saw Meg’s smile when she saw him, and he admitted that he’d wanted to see her again.
After all, where was the harm in watching a movie together? And if he bought her a soda at Barnett’s afterward, that wasn’t a proposition, was it? The fact was, he was tired of reading, tired of listening to the radio, bored with fishing, and most of all, bored with his own company. Meg Harper was good company. Spending an hour or two with her now and then would help to pass the summer, which had begun to stretch endlessly before him.
“I thought I might see you here,” he said as Meg stepped away from the ticket office.
“You did?”
“I’ll buy you a box of
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