Leaving Madeleine - Part 11

I left Kiyoko's for Le Danton. There was still enough room in the day to get some work done. On my way there I saw that Before the Devil Knows Your Dead was just about to start at the UGC cinema. The days wasted anyway, I justified. I bought a ticket, some candy and a beverage, and found a good seat in the theater.

The film started. Immediately I was filled with nostalgia. I missed making films. I missed acting. Since I was very young, people had been telling me I resembled Ethan Hawke. It was one of the few comparisons I actually believed to be true. I didn't find it to be a compliment, nor did I think it was an insult. We did look alike. Same oblong face, jaw, nose, and big ears. I even got a job as his double once. The point of it all is that I feel a certain affinity with the actor. I didn't mind his performances, found him intelligent, thought he made a lot of good choices, and to top it off, he wrote decent literature. Not a bad guy at all. Compare me all you want. I had no problems with it.

The movie was good. Better than expected, in fact. Exactly what a matinee should be. Satisfying. Lumet still had it. Phillip Seymour Hoffman was at the peak of his powers. I wondered if Marissa Tomei minded showing her breasts at her age. I had seen her on stage in Salome with Al Pacino where she also bared her chest. She still had a terrific body and the ability to go toe-to-toe with any actor out there. The affair in the film felt like a warning. Coincidence? I had recently made the decision to consider nothing a coincidence.

As I got up to leave, I heard someone call my name. It was Patrick. And who was he with but the Girl in the Turquoise Dress. Of course, she was no longer wearing the turquoise dress. Instead she wore a pair of skinny jeans and an over-sized burgundy-brown button up shirt with sleeves rolled to just below her elbows. Large, red frame glasses occupied a good bit of her face and a digital casio watch was strapped around her wrist. Her suede shoes had tiny laces and with the exception of the size, looked more like a pair for men.

Oh boy.

"I thought it was you," Patrick started as we met in the aisle. "I can make out the back of your head from anywhere."

"Is that a good thing?" I asked.

"I don't think it's either," Patrick offered. "This is Brigitte. It's such a coincidence cause I was just telling her I have a friend that looks just like Ethan Hawke."

"We've met," Brigitte said. Then , with playfull eyes she added, "sort of."

"Yes. You never contacted me."

"I wanted to! But I lost that receipt you gave me."

Patrick was putting the pieces together. He kept quiet.

"Really? So you would've got in touch otherwise?" I pressed.

"I don't know. I think so. You didn't leave your name though. Which was kinda weird. And you didn't ask for mine either."

"Brigitte."

"Evan."

We all stood there looking at eachother. The credits were finished, the lights were on, and the theatre was empty.

"Let's get some pie!" Brigitte said with great enthusiasm.

"Let's," I said.

Oh boy.

We all walked out together.

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