I hadn't seen or been to a movie since Greg. When Jo mentioned that her friends wanted to go to a drive-in movie theatre the next weekend, I was slightly hesitant. It felt like movies were something more special to me now, a reminder of one of the sweetest aspects of my friendship with Greg, as well as the sweetest times of my life. If I opened that part of myself up to Jo, would it taint the memories I had with Greg?
Jo was persuasive. She said that she hated going to movies, and that it would be a lot better if I was there, and that I loved movies more than anyone she knew so I should go with them.
I was wearing pants more often now. Jo lent me another pair of her jeans which I rolled up at the ankles and paired with a blue striped shirt and some sandals. My bangs had grown out much more now—I could pin them back as I pulled my hair into a ponytail. Jo wore jeans and a white button-up, which seemed to be her staple outfit. Of course, her hair was down, and she pulled yet another pair of sunglasses over her eyes as she drove me in the Fury to go pick up her friends.
It was fun going to different neighborhoods in the city. Her friends lived in houses that were much smaller than hers, on streets that were packed with houses. They reminded me of my own street back at home, if I could call it home anymore. We picked up Delores first, who looked a little bristled at the fact that I was in the front passenger seat which meant she had to sit in the back. Next was Tony, whose mother waved excitedly at Jo when she saw us, and then was Bobby, scrambling over himself as he jumped into the backseat so hard that the entire car shook and squeaked.
"I've been dying to see this movie," Tony said from the back as we drove down a highway. "It's based on an Ernest Hemingway short story, y'know."
"What's it called?" I asked him from the front.
"The Killers," Delores answered for him. "A real heart warmer, apparently."
"Who's Ernest Hemingway?" Bobby asked dumbly, and Tony started to give an entire thesis on why Hemingway was the best author of the Los Generation, while Delores smoked a cigarette.
I turned to Jo who was just silently driving, a content smile on her face as she listened to her friends. "How's Johnny gonna fit in the back?" I asked her.
She looked at me, her sunglasses pushed up on her head now since the sun had set. "He's not comin'," was all she said, in a flat tone, before turning back to the road, one hand steering the wheel loosely.
"Oh," was all I said after that. I wondered if Jo was angry at Johnny for his advances in the club, and it made me feel icky and guilty. I didn't mean to draw a wedge between their friendship—Jo had been friends with him for her entire life. He was her best friend though they seemed to butt heads due to his stubborn need to flaunt his masculinity.
We pulled into the drive-in theatre, and I was a little in awe. A large, lit sign read Van Buren Drive-in Theatre, and there were animated cartoons already playing on the large screen before the film. Cars had already filled up the first row, but we managed to get a center spot in the second row. This screen was much bigger than the Prytania screen, and I was in shock at the technology of it all.
"It's a crime film," Tony said from the back, taking out a bag he had brought that was full of candy and snacks. "Ronald Reagan is in it, too."
"Ooh," Delores and Bobby both awed at the same time, and I chuckled as I remembered Jo telling me about Bobby.
Jo turned the car off and sighed, leaning her head back in the seat. She looked sleepy around the eyes, her lips set in a frown.
"What's the matter?" I asked her quietly while the others were talking about the actors in the movie.
"Don't like movies," she said bluntly.
"Why not?"
"Gotta sit still for so long." She sighed and reached into her pocket, taking out a tiny bottle of white powder. She looked around a bit before she opened it and poured a little of it onto her fist.
"Jo, what's that?" I whispered. I had seen her do it at the club before, but I didn't know that it was something she did even at movies.
"Wake-up snow," she said with a giggle before she turned to look at the concerned look on my face. "What?"
"That stuff's not good for you."
"Yea, you told me that about cigarettes, too," she countered before bringing her fist to her nose and quietly snorting it, turning away from me to wipe her nose.
"No, really," I said, a little concerned. I could see how Jo was—impulsive and reckless, too carefree to see the dangerous things in front of her. Invincible, as Marty said.
"It's fine," she said, her nose and eyes red now as she tucked the bottle back into her pocket. "Everyone does it."
"Can I do it?" I tested her.
She looked at me in surprise. "No."
"Why not?"
""Cuz..." she trailed, looking around for something to say. "You're not that type."
"You're not that type, either," I argued, getting a little loud.
"Becks, just drop it."
"How often do you do it?" I asked her, the colors of the cartoons flickering on her face.
She rolled her eyes and rubbed them, taking a deep breath before speaking. "Just sometimes, okay?" She looked at me again, her expression softer now. I didn't like how big her pupils were. "I don't plan on doing it forever. It just... helps me."
"Helps you what?"
She laughed with her ivory smile. "Get through this thing called life, haven't you heard?"
I just stared at her, but she turned away from me to look at the screen, an elbow on the door of the car as she ran her hand through her hair repeatedly. I decided to just give it up, focusing instead on the soft skin of her jaw and the plumpness of her lips.
"Oh, happy birthday, Becca!" Bobby suddenly said from behind me, and I turned around to look at him a little confused.
Jo cut her eyes to Bobby. "Bobby! It's tomorrow, not today!"
"Oh, sorry," Bobby said, a little deflated.
How had I almost forgotten my own birthday? I hadn't even really thought of myself at all, nor the fact that I was turning a year older the very next day. I suppose I had just been so caught up with the kids and with Jo.
"How did you know?" I asked Jo, whose face was a little red.
"I asked my dad if he knew," she quietly answered, messing with her hair again. "He said on your papers it said that it was tomorrow."
I suddenly became sickly aware that Jo was Marty's daughter, and that I did not converse with them as totally separate people. I talked to Marty, I talked to the kids, and I talked to Jo, and they all talked with each other. Why was she talking about me with Marty? What had compelled her to ask him when my birthday was? What else did they say to each other about me?
"Jo, move your big head, I can't see!" Delores said from behind Jo's seat, and the conversation was ended as the lamplights encircling the arena dimmed, and the movie started to play.
Jo huffed and moved closer to me so that Delores could see, reaching down into her other pocket to get out her pack of Marlboros. As the space around us grew dark, I could only see the flicker of her lighter's flame that glowed on her face as she lit the cigarette, the way she looked down so concentratedly to light it, and then all I could see was the reflections of the screen's light on her face. She looked bothered, like Bobby had ruined something for her by telling me happy birthday, like some plans of hers had been spoiled.
Naturally, Tony had also brought alcohol, and they all started to drink. I only had a little, too fearful of myself when alcohol is in my system. Jo drank steadily, but somehow never got drunk. I wondered—how often did she drink? When did she start drinking? It must have been at a young age, because she took it so well now. When did she start snorting cocaine? Was it when she dropped out of high school? Was it even sometime before? Was it because of influence from her friends? They might have been just as heavy partiers as her, but I had never seen them do it. Another question really bothered me: Was she high around me a lot? Was she high the week before when we climbed the tree? Was she high that night in the pool?
The film was pretty good, though my taste in movies was more cheerful and this was a cold-cutting neo-noir crime film. Jo would get entertained anytime violence happened, but during all the talking she got bored. She would shake her leg or bite her lip, looking like she was ready to jump right out of the car and start running a mile.
At one point, near the middle of the film, she started tapping the middle console repeatedly. It was a little distracting, hearing her tapping and seeing it out of the corner of my eye as I was trying to watch the film I was invested in. I tried to ignore it, but I just couldn't, so I slapped my hand over hers to make it still.
She looked over at me in surprise, and I stared at her under the dim light. Something changed in her eyes as she looked at me. The rest of the world faded away—the car, her friends, the talking of other people in cars, the sounds from the movie. She looked so beautiful—like some sort of fallen angel with her darkened eyes that were teary from the coke.
She stared at me like I was the first person she had ever seen, as if throughout the movie she had been imagining my death, going through cycles of grief in her hand until my touch brought her back to life and reminded her that I was still alive.
Her eyes flickered down my face, and I felt the hot realization that she was staring at my lips. I felt like she was leaning towards me—I'm pretty sure she was. I think if it had been just in the car, she would have kissed me right then, but I squeezed her hand. She stopped.
"You're fidgeting," I whispered with a little smile, knowing that the head seat blocked the others in the backseat from view.
Jo's chest was moving like she found it hard to breathe. She looked down at our hands, mine resting on top of hers. She moved them so that hers was on top of mine, our palms pressing together as she tangled her fingers through mine. She held my hand firmly, her thumb stroking over mine with the gentlest touch.
I caught a smile on her lips before she turned and looked back at the movie. She was shyer than she made herself out to be—I could see the blush on her cheeks even in the dark. I smiled too, eyeing our hands that stayed together throughout the rest of the movie.