The Romcom Instead

2009

Why do all the most traumatizing memories from adolescence start in a high school cafeteria? It’s like they’re designed to start drama. It was in one of these glorified seventh circles of Hell that I sat across from my best friend, and she asked me a favor.

“Please,” Kaya begged from across the lunch table. I sighed into my salad from the new cafeteria salad bar. Our friend Imani wrote a grant to get it installed as part of her community service hours, and I wanted to be supportive—even though it was chicken sandwich and mashed potatoes day. Kaya slapped her hand on the table to make me look her in the eye. They were narrowed in a rare seriousness as she explained, “My mom won’t let me go unless you come too.”

I pressed my lips together. Despite being sixteen, and no matter how adult we thought we were, our parents were still parents. The rules were clear and strict in Black households. Especially ours, because our parents were best friends.

1. No running in and out of the house, letting out your mama’s expensive air conditioning.

2. Don’t go around telling people our business.

3. You can’t hang out with anyone your parents haven’t met yet.

These were special circumstances, though. Kaya had a date. With Andre. Soccer player, vice president of the engineering club, Michael Jackson enthusiast, preacher’s son, and all-around good guy. I considered him my best guy friend, and up until about two weeks ago, I thought Kaya saw him as a friend too. We were a trio—until Kaya screwed it all up by asking Andre to be her boyfriend.

Actually, she asked him if he had a girlfriend, and he said no. Then she asked if he wanted her to be his girlfriend. In the middle of English class like it was no big deal. Like we weren’t in the middle of dissecting the political implications of Fahrenheit 451 and laughing off how nothing like that could ever happen. Not exactly a dramatic love confession in the rain, but I guess in real high school it’s simpler.

In case it wasn’t obvious, I’ve never asked anyone out before. But that’s not the point.

I sat down my salad, suddenly losing my appetite. “I don’t know,” I said, scanning the bustling cafeteria of our peers. I spotted Andre at a table with our other friends, laughing so hard he had to remove his glasses to keep them from slipping off his face and into his tray of dressed lettuce. “I don’t want to feel like a third wheel.”

Kaya looked at me like that was an insane notion, as if she were offended at the suggestion. “You won’t be a third wheel,” she said. I glanced at her, not quite believing it. She raised one hand while the other rested confidently over her heart. “You have my word. It’ll be just like we’re hanging out.”

“Except you two will be on a date,” I reminded her.

She threw her head back, exasperated.

“I don’t even think my mom will let me go,” I added as another excuse. This one was harder to argue against, and I knew it. She knew it too, based on the way her frown deepened and she sank into her chair.

My mom was notoriously stricter than hers. Kaya was allowed to date, at least. I was still told to be back home before the streetlights came on. I was once put on punishment for a month for watching a Halloween video online. It wasn’t even “demonic,” just some skeletons dancing around. But that was enough for my mom. I still got a thrill from going up to my room to stealthily listen to the Grease and Les Mis soundtracks and sing the cuss words to myself.

“Just ask her,” Kaya tried again. Her eyes were pleading, and I didn’t want to disappoint her. Or Andre. I didn’t want them to end up breaking up because of Kaya’s mom’s rules. I was trying to be a supportive friend.

Plus, I was pretty sure my mom would say no. That’s the only reason I confidently went to my mom and asked her if I could go to the movies with Kaya and her boyfriend Andre. “Ms. Lynn won’t let Kaya go unless I do,” I explained to my mom as she lay in bed, wrapped in her house dress, bonnet secured on her head, and watching TV. I was certain she was only half-listening to me, and all she heard was boyfriend and Ms. Lynn said no.

She narrowed her eyes at me, sighing as if she couldn’t believe I was bothering her with this. Here it comes. Brushing me off with an “Absolutely not, Nia!” and then sending me away more gun-shy than before.

Instead, she rolled her eyes, looked back at the TV, and said, “Call Ms. Lynn and bring me the phone.”

I had no idea where this was going. Probably to gossip with Ms. Lynn about how their daughters were trying to orchestrate this whole ridiculous outing with a boy. I never could have predicted that when I handed my mom the house phone, she and Ms. Lynn would laugh for about five minutes before my mom turned to me and said, “You can go.”

Oh…cuss word.

My brother drove me to the movie theater, dropped me off, and drove away before I was even inside. Just my luck—it was opening weekend of some big-budget action film, and everyone crowded into the theater, waiting in lines that went out the door to buy tickets. I was never a fan of action movies. I preferred romcoms. There was a romcom playing that same weekend that I actually wanted to see, but Kaya and Andre wanted to see the dumb robot movie. And this was their date.

Kaya and Andre waited in the lobby for me. They already had their tickets. I waved when I spotted them, but they were too busy being into each other to notice me right away. They eventually stopped looking into each other’s eyes long enough to find me in line and wave. They didn’t come over and wait in line with me, though. That was probably asking too much. That’s what I told myself, anyway. So, I stayed in line as a single person, surrounded by groups of people chattering excitedly about the movie—how they’d been waiting all year for it.

I waited at least twenty minutes in line to buy my ticket, mentally preparing to be bored and disappointed for two and a half hours. I kept glancing at Kaya and Andre as they bought snacks and chatted together only a few feet beyond the velvet rope, but they felt a whole ocean away from me. I tried to signal with my eyes or maybe activate some dormant best friend telepathy to tell them I would appreciate some company. If I looked pathetic enough, maybe Kaya would remember her promise and come over.

Then a theater employee stepped out into the lobby, holding himself with all the grace and authority of a man in a red vest and smelling of popcorn. He projected his voice so the entire lobby could hear the unfortunate news.

“All tickets for the 7:30 showing of The Robot Movie are sold out!”

My jaw dropped. I’d just waited forever and a day to get a ticket to that showing, and now what? We go to a later showing? We see something else? Please, let us see something else. Like, the romcom. I was even willing to go see that Jack Black and Michael Cera one.

I stood behind the velvet rope, trying to catch Kaya’s eye. A look, a wave, a nod—anything to remind me I wasn’t invisible. But they were in their own world, orbiting each other like I wasn’t even there.

I waited for them to come over. To regroup. Make a new plan.

Instead, they disappeared into the theater. No discussion. No backup plan. No me. I was alone. No phone—my mom said I didn’t need one if I wasn’t paying the bill. No ride home.

I stood there for a moment, trying not to look as broken as I felt in front of the ticket girl, but I was pretty sure my heart was actively breaking in my chest. Kaya and Andre probably could have heard it if they weren’t huddled up together in the theater watching robots fight and explode in surround sound.

Biting back tears, I pulled out my money and handed it to the ticket girl. “One for the romcom, please,” I said.

She smiled, unaware of my inner turmoil, and tore my ticket. “Theater 6, on your right.”

I was on autopilot. I didn’t even think I could order popcorn without bursting into tears. So, I just walked to the theater. It was mostly empty, except for a few older couples content to have a quiet evening out to see the latest Sandra Bullock flick. I sank into the nearest seat, fighting the wobble in my lip and the lump swelling in my throat. There was a weight on my chest threatening to suffocate me, and a burning beneath the surface. I didn’t want to be there. Kaya begged me. She promised it would be normal. That was the plan.

When the lights went down and the opening attractions played, I couldn’t hold it anymore. With a shuddering breath, a single tear rolled down my cheek, and something hardened in my chest.