THE THEATRE

She is standing inside the box office. It’s small, singular, like you

would expect in a theatre of this size. There is a small space heater which works well enough. She is wearing her long yellow scarf, wrapped twice around. It’s a cold city. 

“Fiona?” 

She looks up from the book she is reading, “Theo?” He is wearing different glasses, and his hair is longer now, his curls pulled back in a ponytail. It’s him though. “Well, here you go,” she says, handing him his wallet. 

“Thanks a lot, I really appreciate it,” he says. “Mind if I sit for a while, before I go back out there?” He removes his glasses and wipes them with a cloth from his pocket. 

“Of course,” says Fiona, “it sure is coming down.”  

“And we’re supposed to get another couple of feet by tomorrow.” Theo nods towards the coffee stand, “Coffee, tea?” 

“Oh, you don’t have to,” says Fiona. 

“Please,” he says, with his hand on his chest, “honesty is such a rare thing these days. Hot chocolate? Popsicle?” 

Fiona laughs. “Well, maybe just a small tea?” she says with hesitation. 

Theo smiles. He does have a nice smile. He returns shortly with two large teas and two brownies and sets them down on one of the small tables. He removes his jacket and gloves.

Fiona exits the box office, grabs a couple of napkins and sits down. “It’s too much,” she says. 

He shakes his head, “No, you really saved me. It’s not so much the money, it’s the hassle of getting a new driver’s license, credit cards, all of that.”  He empties three packets of sugar into his coffee, always three. “I never did ask,” he continues, “Where did you end up finding my wallet? I mean, I know it was on Main but where exactly, I’m just wondering where I could have lost it?”  

“It was in front of that new hardware store.” Fiona takes a bite of the brownie, “This is really good.” 

“I was there this week, buying a shovel for my car... Yeah, the brownies here are the best,” he says, taking a bite.  

“That’s really smart...do you come here a lot then, I don’t think I've ever seen you before,” says Fiona. 

“I try to see every new play, usually during the week. You know, it’s cheaper.” 

“Ah, ok, I mostly volunteer on weekends.” she says, sipping her tea. 

“You’re a volunteer, that’s so great, giving back to the arts.”  

“I do get to see the shows for free, so I can’t say it’s all altruistic.” 

“Still...”  

She removes her scarf and folds it neatly on the table. Hot tea often does the trick.  

“Nice scarf,” he says, “It’s really...long.”  

She laughs. “I know, I crocheted it myself. It was the first time I made a scarf. I wasn’t sure how long I should make it. I just kept going.” 

“No, it’s perfect. Great for days like this.”  

Fiona smiles. “Did I mention I found your wallet in a snowbank? I could have easily missed it, but it was my dog. He stopped to sniff a sandwich, chicken, I think...anyway, I looked down and there it was.” 

Theo lifts his cup in the air, “Well cheers to...”  

“Thibault,” she says. 

“Thibault, as in Romeo and Juliet?” he asks. 

“Yes, exactly.” 

“A fan of the bard?”  

“Not really. I mean, I just really liked the name. I have to confess; I find his plays a little hard to get through. Do you like Shakespeare?” 

“Not really.” 

They laugh.  

“You say it was a sandwich?” Theo says. 

“What’s that?” says Fiona, wiping the crumbs from her mouth.  

“Your dog was sniffing a sandwich?” 

“Yeah, a sandwich. I don’t know what bugs me more, the fact that the sandwich was almost whole or the littering. If they couldn’t finish it, they could have at least taken it home. Some people are so wasteful,” she says shaking her head, “they don’t realise how lucky they are.” 

“I couldn’t agree more,” he says, “there are so many people struggling these days. Rent, groceries, Toronto is an expensive city.” 

“Everywhere is, I guess,” says Fiona. 

Outside the wind howls, it's loud, unforgiving. The lights flicker on and off.  

“It's an old theatre,” says Fiona. 

“Do you think they'll cancel the show?” asks Theo. "It would be a shame; the reviews were really good.” 

“Looking back, I don't think they ever have, at least not in the time I've been here.” 

“Have you been volunteering long?” asks Theo. 

“Ten years,” says Fiona fidgeting with the ring on her forefinger. She is trying to quit smoking. 

“Wow...and what do you do when you're not volunteering?” Theo asks. 

“I work at my brother’s shoe store.” Fiona takes a card from her purse and gives it to Theo. “You should stop by sometime,” she says, “I mean, in case you need some comfortable shoes.” 

“Jasper’s Orthopaedic Footwear,” he says. He puts the card in his wallet. “I think I just might,” he says smiling at Fiona. 

“Just don’t lose it,” she says jokingly. 

He laughs, “I'll be sure not to.”  

“And what do you do?” asks Fiona.  

“I work in the IT department of a bank, but I consider myself a writer. Actually, I’m working on a novel right now. I just need to figure out how it ends.” 

“That’s impressive. Can I ask, what’s it about?”  

“Robots, robot wars, I mostly write science fiction. Do you like sci-fi?” he asks. 

“Well, I haven’t read a lot of sci-fi, but it sounds interesting. I wouldn’t mind reading it.” 

“Do you want to have a look at what I have so far? I have a copy.” He pulls the manuscript from his knapsack. 

“Now? Sure, I guess I could have a quick look, the show doesn’t start for another hour,” she says, moving her plate to the side. 

He hands her the manuscript, “I know, it’s paper, I’m old school, I prefer to edit with a pen.” 

Fiona’s eyes quickly dart over the first couple of pages. She is a fast and frenzied reader. Riding the subway will do that to a person. “Paper is easier on the eyes,” she says. 

Theo leans forward, “So, what do you think?” 

“Well, from what I’ve read so far, it’s interesting.”  

“Interesting? That’s it, no feedback?” 

“Well...it’s not something I normally read, so I’m not sure I’m the best person to give you feedback. I don’t know a whole lot about science fiction.” 

He leans back, folding his arms, “I feel like you’re holding back.” 

“Well, it’s just that...” Fiona hesitates. 

“Come-on be honest.”  

“Well,” she says, finishing her tea, “it’s just that for two pages, there are a lot of semicolons.” 

“A lot of semicolons? What’s wrong with semicolons?”  

“There’s nothing wrong with semicolons, there are just a lot of them.” Her eyes scan the first page, “...thirty-five, thirty-six, thirty-seven...” 

“Why do you hate semicolons?” he asks accusingly. 

“I don’t hate semicolons,” she says tersely, “but you could have maybe used a comma instead.” 

“A comma, a comma?” Theo says, raising his voice, “Can you use a comma to join two independent clauses?” 

“You can with a conjunction.” Fiona says flatly. 

“A comma is the most over-used punctuation in the English language-it's lazy writing,” Theo says. 

“Commas are completely legitimate punctuation; they serve a lot of functions...” 

“They’re grammar’s whores!”  

Fiona stares at Theo blankly. “Perhaps your sentences are just too long,” she offers. 

Theo closes his eyes, and rubbing his temples says, “every sentence is warranted.” 

“Like right here,” she says pointing to a spot on the page, “you could have said in two sentences what you did in five.” 

“I was describing the process by which Tin, the main character, becomes self aware, again, warranted. You said it yourself; you really don’t know science fiction.” He finishes the last bit of his brownie, wiping his hands clean. 

“Well, you don’t need to read a particular genre to know that you have too many semicolons and that you could vary the sentences a little, it would make for easier reading.” 

“You can give that back now,” he says. He reaches for the manuscript, tipping his still full cup of tea, spilling it across the table and onto Fiona’s scarf. 

“My scarf! It’s soaked!” she says, getting up from the table. 

“It was an accident,” he says. He gets up and grabs some napkins. “Look, I’ll clean it up.” 

“It’s no good, it’s ruined. You did this intentionally.”  

“As I said, it was an accident. I just wanted my manuscript back.” 

“You know, you really shouldn’t ask someone to read your manuscript if you can’t take criticism.” She returns to the box office and places her scarf near the small space heater to dry. 

Theo puts on his jacket and gloves. “You know, there is really something wrong with anyone who hates the semicolon.” 

“I don’t hate the semicolon!” she says, exasperated. 

There is a brief silence. 

“Well, thanks for returning my wallet,” says Theo. 

“Thanks for ruining my scarf.” 

He rolls his eyes. “It’s just a scarf.” 

“Excuse-me?” 

“It’s embarrassingly long, and no offence, it’s kind of ugly. Your dog thinks so too, he told me. " He leans back on his chair, grinning.

Fiona exits the box office. She pulls out a small pair of scissors, yanks back his ponytail, and quickly and efficiently snips it off. She takes off running through the side door, leaving it slightly ajar. 

Theo looks stunned for a moment. He feels the back of his head and says what one would in such a situation, “What the fuck?”  

I look at him and shrug my shoulders. “She really should have shut the door,” I say. 

Theo shakes his head and after a brief pause, he leaves through the front door. 

Working against the wind, I shut the side door. I spot the wallet on the floor. I find an empty box and label it “Lost and Found”, and put the wallet inside.  I pick up the ponytail and put that inside too. Later, I will search the shelves and drawers and gather up the theatre’s lost and forgotten curiosities. It will have to wait though. I take Fiona’s place in the box office and wait for the evening crowd to come trickling in.