by Douglas Young
Raleigh Reynolds was selling tickets as fast as he could for Friday night’s second show at the campus cinema. From behind open-air bars in the theater’s round ticket booth inside the student center, he enjoyed seeing how fast he could dispense tickets, make change, and keep the line moving. When a ticket-buyer was chatting with a buddy or slow getting out his money, Raleigh leaned over to sell tickets to the next customers in line which invariably prompted the person in front to speed up. To further quicken the pace, Mr. Reynolds would ask for whoever had exact change to come to the side of the booth. Convinced he was the fastest ticket-seller anywhere, he relished the challenge of getting an extra-long line of patrons into the theater by showtime or at least by the end of the previews.
This particular line stretched so far into the lobby that it was doubtful if everyone queued up would get to see the movie. It was an especially boisterous crowd, and Raleigh fed off its energy and joy as students were glad to be out on a Friday night.
“Excuse me, but do you think everyone will get a seat? I’m in the back of the line and I really don’t want to waste my time if there’s no way of getting inside.”
Turning to the left side of the booth to see who spoke, Raleigh blinked and felt his face break into a full smile. Framed by thick swirls of long brown hair was a fabulous face featuring hazel-green eyes and a slightly flirty grin. The young lady wore a bronze tan and appeared to be glowing in a bright yellow dress accentuating a voluptuous figure.
Normally Raleigh would have apologized that she likely would not get inside and then gently urge her to arrive much earlier next time, especially for a 9:30 Friday or Saturday film. But momentarily mesmerized by the young lady who kept smiling at him, he hesitated. Turning to give the next customer his change and surveying just how very long the line remained, he looked back at her.
“Just a minute,” he whispered.
“Oh, okay,” she replied in a mock conspiratorial tone as he quickly sold tickets to the next several people in line. He then reached into a drawer for a roll of differently colored tickets.
“How many folks in your party?” he asked in a low tone, glancing around to see if the student building manager was around.
“Just me and a friend,” she answered sotto voce, mischievous smile intact. He gave her two tickets.
“Wow,” she replied as she looked at him with widened eyes. “How exceptionally thoughtful. My gallant Southern gentleman to the rescue, and I don’t even know you. Thank you, kind sir.”
Still selling tickets briskly, he smiled at her between sales. “You’re welcome. Thanks for the compliments, but the passes ain’t coming out of my salary and, since I don’t see the manager anywhere, I don’t think I’ll get in trouble,” he stated before quickly scouring the scene in an exaggerated manner.
Her smile was now a full grin as she continued looking at him. “Well, I’ll tell you what I’m going to do, my shining knight. I’m going to return here tomorrow at noon. Be here and we’ll go to lunch.”
He gave her a surprised look and chuckled. “Uh, huh.”
“So you don’t believe me? Come here at noon and see.”
With a face that said he had a better chance of winning the lottery, but was still intrigued, he finally replied.
“Okay, you’re on. But if you don’t show, don’t expect another free pass.”
“Don’t worry, big boy. I’ll be here. Oh, and I like to know the names of the men I go out with. So what’s yours?”
“Raleigh Reynolds, fearless ticket-seller, at your service.” He smiled and bowed.
“Nice name, quite masculine,” she slowly drawled in an accent he could not guess, though it sounded vaguely West European.
“And you are?” he asked between ticket sales.
“Chiara Cohen, your delightful damsel in distress.” She curtsied with a giggle. “See you here at noon, and don’t be late. I hate to wait.”
“Says the gal who waits until the last minute to show up for the big Friday night show.” He laughed.
“Until tomorrow, Mr. Raleigh.” She smiled and turned to head back to her friend in line.
Wow. Was that real? I feel like I’ve just acted out a scene in a film, he marveled. What a bona fide fox. If she shows up tomorrow, she will officially be the most gorgeous gal I have ever gone out with – and by far. If she shows up. But who could have imagined what just happened? She might actually appear. Well, I guess we’ll just have to see then, won’t we? He caught himself smiling.
A couple minutes later Chiara and another pretty girl walked by the ticket booth. Miss Cohen waved and, pointing at Raleigh, told her friend, “See? There’s our dashing hero.” The other girl waved, blew him a kiss, and laughed. Mr. Reynolds chuckled and waved before turning back to the line.
Once the film sold out, Raleigh went into the locked little room between the ticket booth and the theater to count the money. The movie was a popular comedy and he heard the raucous crowd frequently roar laughing. But he could not stop thinking about the stunning girl in the yellow dress. I got a feeling she may show up tomorrow, he mused.
When the film ended, he was back in the booth selling tickets for the midnight movie, for which there was another large crowd. Raleigh kept looking for Chiara on her way out despite dreading she might tell him “Something has come up” to preclude her from meeting him the next day. While disappointed he did not see her, he was relieved she had not canceled on him. He also figured he might have trouble sleeping that night in anticipation of the approaching noon hour. Whatever happened, he was grateful for a fun little experience and the possibility of a memorable lunch date.
Chiara Cohen did not think much about the friendly boy in the ticket booth. She was surprised and touched by the free passes and wanted to show her appreciation. While she found the young man decent looking, she had gone out with much cuter guys and way more well-heeled ones who never needed to work as a ticket-seller. But this was a rare period when she had no beau, which was why she was out with a girlfriend who was also momentarily unattached. It was fun flirting with him, Chiara thought as she took her seat in the cinema, and she got a charge at how thrilled Raleigh was to meet and get a lunch date with her, however skeptical he was that she would show up. She looked forward to his excitement when she not only returned, but on time. I’ll wow him in my best dress too, Chiara smiled. She had no doubt he would show up, and early. Miss Cohen concluded having a leisurely lunch with a charming new male acquaintance might prove pleasant.
Having slept better than expected, Raleigh Reynolds spent most of Saturday morning doing homework. Being a graduate student and working two jobs to help pay tuition and rent, he never had remotely enough time to do all the readings assigned. So he just read the introduction and conclusion to each book chapter and journal article.
Thinking about his hoped-for lunch date as he shaved, showered, and dressed much better than usual, he recalled romantic comedy films he had enjoyed since he felt like he was entering waking dream territory again. Even if she doesn’t show, Raleigh reminded himself, what the heck? I can visit with whoever’s working the matinee shift and still walk to a restaurant downtown.
At 11:50 a.m., Mr. Reynolds entered the student center and sat at one of the many tables in the large lobby in front of the theater. To make it less obvious if he got stood up, Raleigh brought a paperback novel he had long wanted to read. Since none of his colleagues had arrived at the cinema, he opened his book.
Chiara Cohen had enjoyed her night out with a dear friend and slept late that morning. Though a college junior, she still spent little time on homework since she had never needed to study much for decent grades and was unwilling to put in the time for A’s. She found most school work boring, and there was way too much fun to be had. Besides, she had always figured she would have no trouble marrying a successful young man. Her mother and older sisters had done that and, provided she was progressing toward earning a college degree in four years, her father paid her tuition, rent, and an allowance.
Curious to learn about Raleigh and wanting to impress him, she put on her favorite, form-fitting black dress and red sandals. She smiled imagining his reaction when she arrived, and precisely at noon.
Without looking obvious, every couple of minutes Raleigh furtively scanned the lobby. By 11:58, he grew convinced his would be a solo lunch and turned his attention to the novel in earnest. Hey, so what if she doesn’t show? Nobody has to know. I’m just here reading my book and soon on my way to a swell lunch that will be better than what I would have had at the apartment. I might actually bump into somebody I know.
Just as he focused on his reading, he felt the presence of someone standing in front of him. Looking up, his eyes widened.
“Figured you’d get stood up?” Chiara asked with a bit of a grin and one hand on her hip.
Raleigh blinked and was embarrassed that his mouth had opened as he admired the striking coed in a tight, jet-black dress. He was momentarily lost for words.
“Rather read your book?” she got out before chuckling.
“No, ma’am,” he replied and jumped up.
“What does your watch say?” she asked with raised eyebrows.
“Twelve o’clock noon. As The Monkees sing, ‘Now, I’m a believer.’”
He bowed slightly and extended his hand. She smiled and shook it.
“Ever the gentleman. Well, let’s go eat. I slept through breakfast and if I wait much longer, I may start shaking and you’ll have to carry me.”
“I’ll do it,” Mr. Reynolds replied.
“I bet you would. Ever my shining knight,” Miss Cohen answered and patted his shoulder.
They began walking the short distance across campus to downtown. Along the way, Raleigh was elated that a few acquaintances saw him with such a beauty. One guy gave him a thumbs up.
“Hey, Mister Raleigh.” Zella Montgomery waved as Raleigh smiled and nodded. Though classmates since middle school who had always gotten along, Mr. Reynolds was guarded around Miss Montgomery since she was the biggest gossip he had ever known. For once, he relished what she might now tell mutual acquaintances.
“Who’s your friend?” Zella asked.
“Oh, this is Chiara Cohen,” Raleigh answered. Miss Cohen smiled.
“How do y’all know each other?” Zella queried.
“Ah … we both love movies,” Mr. Reynolds replied.
“He picked me up at the university cinema last night,” Chiara interjected.
“Oh, my,” Zella remarked with wide eyes as Raleigh looked uncomfortable and Chiara grinned.
“All right. Good seeing you, Zella. We’re late to lunch,” he remarked with a wave and kept walking.
“Who knew a knight could blush,” Chiara noted.
“Well, Miss Zella loves to spin all kinds of stuff out of nothing,” he declared.
“Oh, and is this nothing?” She looked at him.
“No, no!” He shook his head and waved his hand to reassure her, only relaxing once she giggled.
“So where are you from?” she asked as they continued down the tree-lined sidewalk to John Hunt Morgan Avenue on the edge of campus.
“I grew up here,” he answered, “and liked it too much to leave. Most of my friends stayed and went to the university, so I figured I would, too, and become a college-educated redneck. How ’bout you? From what parts do you hail?”
“New York City’s largest Jewish suburb,” she answered looking at him with a little smile.
“Brooklyn?” he asked, to which she shook her head. “The Bronx?” She shook her head again with a growing grin. “Long Island?”
“Nope. Miami.” She smiled at him.
“Ah, here I figured you were a Yankee who’d come down to Dixie, when lo and behold, come to find out you came north. I also thought you might have a European accent.”
“Daddy came from France and Momma’s from Italy. Chiara is Italian for ‘clear, bright light.’”
“Pretty.”
They agreed to eat at A Mean Bean Indeed, a vegetarian restaurant across the street from the prettiest part of campus where large oak trees, daffodils, and tulips were in full glory. Flower baskets hung from street lamps on both sides of the street, and pink and white dogwoods bloomed in front of the eatery. As they sat at a sidewalk table, Raleigh noticed a few guys and gals eyeing his date. Looking to see how she reacted, Miss Cohen appeared completely nonplussed. They soon ordered their food and Chiara leaned back, crossed her legs, and lit a gold-filtered black cigarette from a pack of the same colors that Raleigh picked up to admire.
“I do believe this is the fanciest, most expensive-looking pack of cancer sticks I ever did see,” he remarked.
“Because it is,” she replied. “Sobranie Black Russian.”
“How can you afford them on a student budget?”
“They’re a gift.”
“My, my, and who gives you such hifalutin’ coffin nails?”
“A beau. Alas, an ex-beau.” She gave an exaggerated pout. “And this is my last pack.”
“I reckon he’s earning a right pretty penny to give you these.”
“He’s a pilot,” she stated matter-of-factly before taking a drag on her cigarette.
“Wow. He can afford his own plane?”
“He just flies a big one.” She exhaled.
“Oh, he’s an airline pilot.”
She nodded and winked.
“How does a coed land such a big catch?” he asked.
“He saw me in first-class and invited me into the cockpit.” She smiled.
“Sounds like something out of a movie,” Raleigh noted. “I ’spect that adds a whole new dimension to ‘sweeping a gal right off her feet.’”
“That’s a fair way of putting it.” She chuckled and blew some smoke.
“So how’d you lose such a big fish? Or was he just a jerk?”
“Well, he turned out to be. But I don’t regret it. We sure had a lot of fun. It was exciting getting to fly all over. Then like a foolish little girl I fell in love with him and actually believed him when he said he’d leave his wife. When I pressed him about it, suddenly my strong knight of the skies became Mr. Wuss.” She rolled her eyes.
“Hmm. I’m not absolutely sure I follow you.”
“‘I’m sorry, Chiara,’” she moaned in a faux male voice. “‘You know I love you, honey bunny, but I just can’t leave my family. My heart’s being ripped from both sides and I just don’t know what to do.’” She imitated big sobs. “Oh, yeah? Well, boo-hoo. Try finding your testicles. I don’t get off on men who are emotionally incontinent.” She took a hit off her cigarette and looked at the tall trees and flowers across the street.
“Would you really want him to leave his wife and children?” Raleigh asked.
“Oh, at the time, yeah, absolutely. I was completely ‘in love’ and only thinking of myself. But, no, not now. It couldn’t have worked. I should have seen the whole thing for what it was and just been grateful for a good time.”
Their food arrived and they began to eat, but still mostly talked.
“So what’s been happening in Mr. Raleigh’s Loveland? Anything exciting?”
“I’m looking right at her.” He smiled.
Chiara laughed. “No intriguing romantic tales to tell? Come on. I shared mine, or one of them.” She smiled with a raised eyebrow.
“Actually, my last girlfriend, Adalyn, left me for another guy.”
“Ouch. Boy, that hurts.”
“Not nifty.”
“Sorry, babe. Tell me more – if it’s not too painful.”
“Oh, no. Though it was distinctly unpleasant at first, I likely lucked out big time, seeing how unfaithful she was.”
“Definitely not marriage material, huh?”
“Precisely – like Mr. Airline Pilot.” He winked and she winked back and pointed at him.
“Truth be told, it wasn’t a major relationship,” Raleigh stated. “We’d only been dating a few months and there were already a number of red flags. But she’s a real looker and I guess that made me overlook a lot of baggage.”
“Many a good man’s downfall,” Chiara pointed her fork at him with squinted eyes.
“There’s this guy we both know who she sure mentioned a lot,” Raleigh observed. “But I never suspected anything on account of he’s real shy and she even referred to him as ‘Virgin Van’ since he actually confided that to her one time.”
“Oh, he definitely wanted her,” Chiara chimed in quickly.
“Yeah, all of her, as it turned out,” Raleigh agreed.
“Ohhh, I think the plot just thickened.” Chiara giggled.
“She’d been acting kind of weird and one day mentioned Van again, to which I said, ‘Oh, Virgin Van?’ to which she replied, ‘Mmmm… not anymore.’”
Chiara raised her head and looked at him trying not to laugh.
“Yep. It turns out she had just de-virginized him.” He sighed.
“Juicy,” Chiara noted. “Do dish.”
“Definitely not kosher. To her credit, she did tell me, and it wasn’t like we were living together or engaged. She cried and I just wanted to be done with it all.”
“You didn’t want to take her back? Even after she confessed and begged for forgiveness?”
“Not particularly, and who said she wanted us to stay together? The little cheat just told me Van was no longer ‘Virgin Van’ and that she’d hitched her wagon to his.”
“You weren’t hurt?”
“Oh, sure, but I figured it was a blessing to find out so soon that she couldn’t be trusted.”
“Agreed.”
“But I did confront the ex-virgin Van the next time I saw him,” he added.
“Ohhh. Did you fight it out?”
“No, but I sure put him in his place when he sheepishly tried to explain it all away with the classic excuse of ‘Well, we didn’t mean to, man, but, you know, it just happened.’”
“Oh, so ‘it just happened,’ huh, Van? Let’s see. So you just happened to be out driving one night and, of all the places you could have driven to, you just happened to drive straight to Adalyn’s apartment. Then you just happened to knock on her door and she just happened to let you in. Then y’all just happened to mosey on back to her bedroom where you each just happened to get naked and then you just happened to stick your penis inside her vagina and it just happened to… erupt. So, yeah, I guess it all ‘just happened.’ Uh huh.”
Chiara hunched over the sidewalk in case her laughter caused her to spit out any food. Raleigh was tickled she enjoyed the story so much, and each time he retold it he felt the Adalyn scales had been balanced a little more in his favor.
“What an awesome put-down – way better than any fisticuffs,” she pronounced. “Did you verbally trounce Miss Adalyn, too?”
“Naw. She was crying when she told me. I just wanted the whole thing to be over and get away from all that melodramatic angst.”
“You let her off mighty easy. Still always a gentleman with the ladies.” She nodded while taking a sip of wine.
“You can be right or you can have peace.”
“That sounds like a rationalization.”
“I’m in graduate school. Everything I learn is rationalization.”
They finished their meal and continued chatting while watching a parade of students, townies, workers, and families walk by them. The conversation veered from the romantic realm into politics and history, especially concerning the Middle East. Miss Cohen talked enthusiastically and at length regarding her many visits to Israel, and she was surprised and impressed by how well-versed Mr. Reynolds was about the region, particularly the Jewish state.
“So have you been to Israel?” she asked.
“No ma’am,” he answered.
“Why not?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “I don’t recall ever thinking about it. I’m sure it’s nice, like you say. But I’ve yet to go to Europe or a lot of other places either.”
“You are Jewish, aren’t you?” she inquired with a suddenly serious and surprised look.
“No,” he replied slowly as he realized just how important his answer might be. She blinked and said nothing. “But I am circumcised.”
“Mazel tov.” She chuckled and raised her glass.
“Now that’s definitely kosher.” He beamed.
“Indeed.” She nodded with a grin.
“But I sense major disappointment that I’m not Jewish,” he lamented.
“Oh, no,” she answered. “I just assumed you were since you know so much about Israel – even more than I do – and you drop certain words with ease, like ‘kosher.’”
“Something your boiled shrimp was definitely not,” he volunteered, to which she giggled.
“See, there you go.” She pointed to the shrimp shells. “You could have easily fooled most any Jewish gal that you were a nice Jewish boy.”
“Gosh, I hope I can still be a nice goy boy.”
“Of course. A nice free-pass goy boy.” She grinned.
“From what I’ve seen of your diet, I’m guessing you ain’t Orthodox, and I have a hard time imagining Miss Chiara ever fasting.”
“No,” she declared with a wave of her hand. “Life’s hard enough.”
“Not a speck of daylight between us on that one, shug. But I still can’t help thinking you’re majorly disappointed that we ain’t in the same tribe.” He frowned.
“Stop. I have lots of gentile friends,” she declared. “You’re the one making a big deal out of it. Do you see me going anywhere?”
“Aw, thanks, Miss Chiara. Hey, if I’m not one of the chosen people, I’m at least one of the frozen chosen.” He smiled.
“Who are?” she asked.
“Presbyterians – the original church of Caucasian rhythm.”
Chiara chuckled and lit a cigarette.
“You’re still shook up about this,” she noted. “Don’t be. All it means is that I just couldn’t marry you. That’s all. Don’t sweat it.”
After a pause, he started to speak but stopped.
“Come on. Speak up. You know I don’t bite. Just say whatever’s on your mind,” she remarked.
“Well, I’m right flattered to think you might have actually considered me a possible suitor on your marriage radar,” he said with a smile.
“You should be,” she replied with a laugh. “But, I’m sorry, I just can’t have a marriage with a man who’s not Jewish.”
He took a sip of water, paused, and then smiled before leaning forward and lowering his voice.
“How ’bout a torrid affair?” he asked.
Chiara burst out laughing and continued looking at him with a big grin. When he failed to say anything but just smiled, she took a long drag off her cigarette while keeping her eyes on him.
“Well,” she stated smiling before exhaling a large puff of smoke, “I guess we’ll just have to see then, won’t we?”