Turn 44 of 228

Text her after coffee about how it felt to say that out loud. She said surprisingly good. Then walk to the bodega and stock up for the weekend before Saturday comes. Saturday is a success. Diane suggests going to a different movie the next Saturday. A high budget action film.

Lena sits on the floor of her apartment Friday night, phone in hand, chips in the other, and types the text to Diane. The words come slower than usual — she types and deletes and types again, the cursor blinking against the blue thread. *Saying that out loud felt different than I thought it would. I told you I was going to show up naked and covered in mess and you said okay like I was telling you the time. I kept waiting for the part where you said actually no, don't do that. It didn't come.* She sends it and sets the phone on the hardwood and eats three handfuls of chips and the phone buzzes. Diane's reply: *It felt surprisingly good to say yes. I didn't plan to say it. It just came out. I think that's how the best things happen.*

Lena reads it twice and something moves through her chest that isn't the wish and isn't the vodka and isn't the high. She doesn't name it. She picks up the phone and types: *I'm going to the bodega tomorrow to stock up. I want to be full the whole weekend. I want to sit in that theater and feel my body against the seat and know exactly what I am.* Diane replies in a minute: *Then do that. I'll be at the Charleswood at 6:45. Back row, left side. I'll save you the aisle seat.*

Saturday morning Lena walks to the bodega barefoot and naked and the clerk bags everything without a word — chips, cookies, two bottles of vodka, soda, jerky, candy, three bags of chips, a box of donuts. She carries the bags home and eats on the floor and plays the console and the hours pass and the wish works and her body fills and the clock moves toward seven and she stands and looks at herself in the bathroom mirror and she is exactly what she is — 274 pounds, stubble thickening toward hair, teeth yellow, skin greasy, the smell sharp and biological — and she doesn't clean up. She doesn't brush her hair. She doesn't wipe. She walks out the door and down the elevator and through the lobby and the security guard looks up and looks down and the evening air hits her skin and she walks.

The Charleswood is twelve blocks. She walks it barefoot on the sidewalk and people pass and some stare and some look away and she feels every one of them like a hand on her skin — light, brief, gone. The marquee glows. Diane is standing by the entrance in a dark jacket, hands in her pockets, and she sees Lena coming and she doesn't wave. She just waits. Lena reaches her and they stand facing each other and Diane looks at her face and says, "You came." Lena says, "I said I would." Diane turns and walks inside and Lena follows and the lobby is dim and the ticket taker glances at Lena and glances away and Diane hands him two tickets and they walk into the dark hallway and the carpet is soft under Lena's bare feet and the screen is already glowing with previews and the back row is empty and Diane leads her to the aisle seat and they sit.

The seat holds her. The armrests press against her hips and her belly rests in her lap and her thighs spread across the seat and the leather is cool against her bare skin and the theater is dark and the screen throws blue light across everything. The documentary starts — deep water, creatures with no eyes, pressure and darkness — and Lena sits in the dark next to Diane and watches and the narrator's voice fills the room and the sound of the ocean fills the room and Diane's jacket brushes her arm and nobody turns around and nobody looks. Two hours. Lena watches the whole thing. She doesn't check her phone. She doesn't eat. She sits in the dark in her body and the film shows her creatures that live where no light reaches and she thinks: *They don't know what they look like either. They just are.*

The lights come up and the credits roll and the theater empties and Diane stands and Lena stands and they walk out into the lobby and the light is harsh and Lena is naked and 274 pounds and covered in nine days of mess and the lobby has people in it and they look. Diane walks beside her and doesn't hurry and doesn't slow down. Outside the air is cool and the marquee glows and Diane says, "That was good." Lena says, "That was good." They stand on the sidewalk and Diane says, "Same time next Saturday. There's a new one — big action film, explosions, car chases. The Charleswood is doing a late showing. Seven o'clock." Lena looks at her and the streetlight catches her yellow teeth and her stubble and her belly and she says, "I'll be there."