Undeclared (The Woodlands) - By Jen Frederick Page 0,34
arms, and some of the springs’ resilience had been weakened, so when you sat in them, the seats kind of collapsed.
A movie here was about the cost of a soda. I don’t even know why I argued about paying my way. If I really meant for Noah to be deterred, I should act like I didn’t care. Arguing over everything and ignoring him were obvious signs that I was trying too hard. I resolved to try to be friendlier and less bitchy. I wanted to project an“ I don’t care” attitude, not an“ I’m so hurt that I can barely stand to look at you, yet I don’t want to be away from you either” message.
Looking around, I was surprised by the number of people in the theater for a Saturday night, early on in the year. I figured everyone would be at some house party, or over on Greek Street, or in one of the campus bars.
I leaned over to a girl next to me. “What’s the movie?”
She looked at me like I was crazy. “Lust, Caution.”
“That doesn’t sound very French.”
“It’s not. It’s Chinese. Directed by Ang Lee,” She bit out each word as if I was five years old.
“I thought it was a French film with subtitles,” I couldn’t let go of the fact that it wasn’t a French film.
“You got half that right. It’s got subtitles.” With that she turned away and resumed her conversation with her friend. I think it had something to do with half-wits and how they shouldn’t even come to subtitled movies if they weren’t serious film students.
I pulled out my phone to do some quick searching on“ Lust, Caution,” but I heard a commotion and saw the three guys at the aisle, trying to get through to the seats I had picked out.
Mike led the way, followed by Noah and then Bo. When Mike started to seat himself, Noah grabbed his arm and pulled him upright.
“No, you sit over there,” Noah directed Mike to the seat I was in. “Grace, sit here.” And then, as if he thought his orders would sound better, he added, “Please.” I wasn’t planning on moving, but Mike stood there uncertainly, with Noah’s hand still gripping his other arm.
“Move, girl,” I heard from behind me. “The movie is about to start.”
I let out a loud and ungrateful sigh and moved one seat over. Everyone collapsed in their chairs, and I heard a“ finally” behind us.
Now I was in the worst position I could imagine, in a dark theater sitting next to Noah, so I leaned into Mike as far as I could without making it seem like I wanted to get intimate with him. I tied to portray a certain nonchalance over the fact that I was going to watch a Chinese-subtitled film with Noah Jackson. I probably looked like I had overused the distortion or blur tool on my computer photo-editing program right now.
“The film isn’t French. It’s Chinese,” I felt responsible for dragging Mike here, so I tried to impart what little knowledge I had.
“Oh yeah? I just heard that it had subtitles and assumed it was French,” He whispered back. I gave him the I know, right? look. Then, he offered me a drink of his soda. I moved away and gave a mini-shudder. I wasn’t going to suck on the same straw he had in his mouth. Who knew what kind of backwash Mike sent into the soda? Now, Noah’s drink? A couple of years ago I’d have paid money to place my lips around something he had touched. Cripes. Who was I kidding? I wanted to suck on that water bottle of his until you couldn’t tell where his DNA started and mine began. I sunk lower in the seat.
The nearly three hours of sitting between Mike and Noah in the dark watching an extremely erotic film was possibly one of the most uncomfortable situations of my entire life. The movie was about a female spy sent to seduce an opposition leader. It was scene after scene of sexually explicit and forbidden love. The first sex scene was fairly violent, and I could see Mike shift restlessly beside me, while Noah was stoically unmoving. I could feel myself dying of embarrassment. I tried to look at it from a filmmaking point of view, separating myself from the action on the screen and examining the angle of the shots and the placement of the shadows. It didn’t work.