I never wanted to be a criminal.
And now I’m not.
I’m just an ordinary guy. There’s nothing special about me anymore.
But I’m the happiest I’ve ever been. By far.
Right now, I’m at my job at the movie theater in the mall closest to my house. I’m behind the counter, waiting to sell some tickets. I’ve been working here for nearly six months now, and unfortunately …
I’m starting to get over it.
As much as I love film, this job involves a lot of cleaning. And dealing with annoying customers.
Then more cleaning. And more dealing with annoying customers.
Rinse and repeat.
I still have no idea how people spill so much stuff. It’s like they’ve never been taught to eat properly. Or that as soon as they walk into a theater, they completely forget and feel totally fine leaving their crap everywhere.
Also: Why are people such assholes?
Anyway.
There are a lot of things I could be doing that are way worse.
I know that for sure.
“Matt!” calls a voice.
It’s my manager.
She’s actually pretty great. I think she likes me because I plan on sticking around for a while. The staff turnover is high here, and showing someone new the ropes gets annoying if you have to do it every month. I’ve made it clear I’m here for the long haul, if she wants me. Which means at least through college, and she seems happy about that.
Plus, she loves David Lynch as much as I do.
“Can you clean cinema five?” my manager asks.
Damn. They were showing a kids’ movie in there earlier. It’s bound to be a shit show.
“Sure.”
I grab the cleaning stuff, head inside, and sigh.
Like I suspected, it’s a damn mess.
I get to work, starting in the back row. Maybe I’m being too negative. I really do like this job. Even if it isn’t totally perfect, I feel as if I’m on the right track when I’m doing it. Being here just sits well with me, in a way my old life never used to.
I’m surrounded by movies.
More important, though, I’m never going to hurt anyone doing this.
I’m happy.
I won’t lie, though, I still think about Dad and Luke all the time.
I miss them.
I know I made the right decision to get out, though.
As I bend to scoop up some spilled candy, I see someone walk in from the corner of my eye.
God.
People are so dumb.
I look up.
“Hey, you,” Jason says.
He looks … different. He’s more tanned than last time, and his hair is way longer, now tousled on top. He’s just as good a dresser, though, and he’s clearly kept on working out.
He looks down. I’m wearing the bracelet he got me. I’ve never taken it off.
“Dude,” he says. “I missed you.”
I can barely find my voice.
“I missed you, too,” I say.
We smile at each other.
“So, Matthew,” he says, looking at my name tag.
“Yeah?”
“Are you seeing anyone?”
“Nope. Are you?”
“Nope.” He grins. “I guess my question now is: How would you feel about being friends again?”
I step closer to him and decide to go for it.
“Fuck friends,” I say.
And I kiss him.