March 25, 2020

The Heather Lewis Movie Theatre Story

So here it is.

Heather Lewis was a woman I once dated. A lovely woman who quite frankly, was too good for me. 

We dated. And then we broke up. Rather, she broke up with me.

Right after the movie theatre incident.

So yeah. I guess you can say that was why. But things are never really that clear cut. Am not making excuses. Because, the movie theatre story does make me look like a bit of an asshole. Am just saying you need to see the whole picture. You need to see the events leading up to the movie theatre story. 

A little context. 

To begin with, I wasn't really crazy about the deal she made with god.

Let me explain.

Our family plays a game. To be fair, my family indulges me in a game I like to play.

Usually at the cottage. Sometimes in Florida. The game is called ‘Would you book it?’ It is very simple. It is a game about the weather. It usually occurs during a fair or good but not great day. I pose the metaphysical question: if god came down from the heavens and offered to give you this day every day of the year - would you book it? For the question to really be of Solomon-like proportions, the day needs to have a few variables. Maybe a rain shower in the morning. Usually it boils down to being nice enough to be outside but not hot enough to swim. Some of the philistines in my family like to ski or, worse, take pleasure in the leaves changing color. To truly appreciate the game, you need to experience a Canadian winter. This is not a game for those of you living in San Diego. So that’s the game.

One spring, or maybe fall day, I found myself walking to Starbucks with my friend Joel and Heather Lewis. It was 72 degrees. Not a cloud in the sky. I asked if she would book it. She did not hesitate.

“No way.”

“No?”

“No way. I like it hotter than this.”

“You understand we get this day every day right? No more winter.”

“I like it hotter,” she said, then went into Starbucks to buy us a tall Mocha Frappuccino. 

Joel looked at me and said, “Well that’s that then.”

And I said, “Yeah.”

We were both joking, but not really. 

72 degrees. I mean, who does that?

And then Heather Lewis had the flu. 

I put together a care package. Magazines, soup, Kleenex, orange juice, treats. A really nice package. 

I left it at her front door. 

Heather Lewis was irritated. Why didn’t I come in and spend the night?

Come in and spend the night? It was all I could do to take the elevator to her floor. “Boyfriends don’t leave packages at a doorstep,” she declared in between mach one level honking. “Why would you want me to get sick?” “I don’t want you to get sick but dropping off a bag and slinking away is not winning you any points.”

“I tell you what,” I said. “When you get better, we’ll go to dinner and a movie of your choice. I give up my veto power.” Heather Lewis said that would be nice.

And so, two weeks later on Saturday night, we found ourselves, bellies full of sag paneer and chana masala, at the Capital Square Theatres, settling in to some Star Wars movie. It might have been Star Trek. Am really not sure. I hate all that science fiction shit. But, that’s what you get when you decide you don’t want to get the fucking flu.

Twelve minutes of painful cinematic torture later, I turned to her and whispered, “I have to go to the bathroom.”

Now, it is very likely I had to go to the bathroom. I often have to go to the bathroom. So I sidled out of the row, the fact I was not sitting in my usual aisle seat a further indication of my questionable motives, and made my way to the bathroom.

So here is where the story gets a little sketchy.

On the way back from the bathroom, I poked my head into another theatre. Just to see.

You know. Standing in the back.

I have told the Heather Lewis movie theatre story many, many times. Even though my friend Allie has told me not to tell it because it makes me look, as you have no doubt begun to figure out, like a bit of an asshole. But I still don’t remember the name of the movie. It was one of those romances where the girl lives on the wrong side of the tracks and the boy lives in the rich white area of town. One of these days I am going to look it up. But it doesn’t matter now. Anyway, I was just going to poke my head in.

Two hours later.

My movie, okay so now I am already calling it my movie, and Heather Lewis’ movie ended at the same time.

She was, understandably, furious.

She expressed her feelings in no uncertain terms.

I could have apologized.

I should have apologized.

Instead, I said, “What kind of person are you? I tell you I am going to the bathroom and I don’t come back? I could be lying in a pool of my own blood and vomit and you don’t come looking for me? Who does that?”

Then I walked away.

Heather Lewis broke up with me the next day.

But seriously, what kind of person turns down 72 degrees and sunny.

I mean seriously.

The end.