What People Want Me To Be

"Are you saving this seat for someone?" he asked.

The high-pitched voice that answered him was somewhat stilted, as if English weren't the speaker's native language. "Well, I was. I said we'd have to get to the movie early to get good seats." She cast her blue eyes low, gesturing as if to check a wristwatch. "I must have been waiting ten minutes. And you look kind of cute. Sit down."

In a few minutes' time, they'd said little of import, but they had begun to enjoy each other's company. As in most of his conversations, she did a lot more talking than he did. She seemed to be a bit of a tomboy, but she had a certain charm to her, and with a well-timed comment, he discovered that he liked the sound of her laugh.

"Doesn't look like my date's showing up," she said at last. "I guess it's just you and me--"

"Bastard!" a shrill voice interrupted. In their distraction, both had failed to notice a very beautiful, very angry woman making her way up the aisle--but everyone for five seats in all directions noticed her as she began to yell. "You fruity bastard! I've dated a lot of guys who couldn't be left alone for one second, but you're the first one I've caught flirting with another guy!"

For a moment, he had assumed in bewilderment that this strange woman must have been addressing him. His confusion only increased as the blue-eyed girl's voice deepened. "I was just making conversation. I didn't mean anything . . ."

The angry woman only paused long enough to draw breath. "We're through, you little faggot! You hear me? Through!" She stalked off without another word, shoving aside the multitude of legs in her way, and the people around them returned to talking and texting.

He turned his gaze to meet blue eyes. "I'm a bit confused here, but I'm sorry for whatever I just did."

The blue-eyed girl sighed as she looked him in the eye. "I guess I should explain myself.