But I still think about Stewart. I think about him every day. The New England sky is so different from the Pacific Northwest. It makes him seem so far away.
Then one Tuesday night after dinner, I find myself walking across campus to the far edge of town. I do this because I saw an old movie theater there and I want to check it out.
It’s a long walk, but I’m happy for the exercise. I feel strangely at peace. I’m not lonely tonight. I’m going to the movies.
The theater is called The Academy. It’s a lot like The Carlton. I pay my five bucks and get some cheap popcorn. I thank the local girl who stuffs my bag until it’s overflowing.
Inside the theater, I sit by myself near the back, a dozen other people scattered around me. The lights go down and I begin chomping popcorn and letting my brain drift slowly into the story.
The next Tuesday, I do it again. I walk across campus, through the cold, to The Academy theater. It’s a good way to relax, get away from campus, take a break from the pressures of college life.
It’s something I still do to this day. Not every Tuesday, but a lot of them. Movie night. And of course I think of Stewart whenever I go. Maybe I’m waiting for him to come join me, come sit with me, come flop his big feet over the seats in front.
That’s the thing: You can change things. You can repair mistakes. You can restart your whole life if you have to.
But some things you never get back. Certain people. Certain moments in time when you don’t know better than to shield your heart.
You don’t see those moments coming, you don’t know it when they’re happening, but later, as the plainness of life begins to show itself, you realize how important they were. You understand who really changed you, who made you what you are.
And so I never really say good-bye to Stewart. I keep him inside me. My first love. My best friend. My Lost Prince.
And if he ever returns he’ll know where to find me. The Academy theater. I’m still here. Feet up. Chomping stale popcorn. Saving him a seat.