Twenty Wishes (Blossom Street #5)(58)

“What movie am I seeing?”

“A horror flick.”

“Oh…”

“You don’t like horror movies?”

“Not particularly.”

“Oh.” Tessa’s face fell. “Do you want to see something else? You don’t, do you? Because I think my uncle Mark likes you. Only he’s afraid ’cause, after the accident, his wife divorced him and he’s never heard from her again. You’re the first woman he’s even noticed since then.”

Barbie stared at her, appalled. This ex-wife of his sounded like a shallow, selfish woman. Whatever happened to “for better, for worse”? Marriage vows didn’t become null and void if one of the partners got sick or hurt. She knew without a second’s hesitation that she and Gary would have stuck by each other, regardless of circumstances.

She sighed. “I suppose I could watch a horror movie,” she said. “How bloody is it?”

Tessa grimaced, wrinkling her nose. “Real bloody.”

“Are there dismembered body parts?” That was the worst, in Barbie’s opinion.

Tessa nodded reluctantly. “But he came back! That’s big.”

Undecided, Barbie chewed on her lower lip. Tessa was right; neither of them had expected Mark to return. Barbie wasn’t sure why she’d come—force of habit? Hope?

“Just go,” Tessa urged. “Don’t look at the screen. Close your eyes and plug your ears. That’s what I do.”

Other than the thought of having to watch the dispersing of gore and guts, choreographed to loud, pounding music, Barbie couldn’t have said what was stopping her. So the movie wasn’t exactly her choice. So what? She’d be with Mark and wasn’t that the whole point of being here?

“Okay,” she said with a deep breath. “I’ll do it.”

“Terrific!”

She just prayed she wouldn’t have nightmares for the rest of her life.

“Let me know what happens, okay? With Uncle Mark, I mean.” Tessa said. “My parents and my grandmother want to know, too.”

“Okay.” That meant the whole family was in on this, which was encouraging.

Barbie took her time, waiting until the last possible minute before slipping into the darkened theater. She purchased her popcorn and soda and lingered in the lobby until the show was about to start.

When she walked into the theater, the previews had already begun. She made her way to the row where Mark had parked his wheelchair, the same as usual. As she had previously, she sat one seat away from him.

He turned and stared at her in feigned surprise. “What are you doing here?” he whispered.

She could act as well as he could. “Oh, hello,” she said brightly. “Is that you again?”

For a moment she suspected the hint of a smile. She turned back to the screen just in time to see an ax-murderer heave his weapon of death into a wall next to a trembling woman’s head. Unable to stop herself, she gasped aloud and nearly dropped her popcorn.

“Frightens you, does it?” Mark asked in a far too satisfied tone. “Might I remind you these are only the previews.”

“Yikes.” She gritted her teeth.

Mark laughed, causing a woman behind him to make a shushing sound. “Yikes,” he repeated, lowering his voice. “Is that the best you can do?”

“Might I remind you I have sons.”

“And you’re a lady, right?” He spoke as if he intended that to be an insult.

“As a matter of fact, yes,” she said stiffly. “I know all the words you do. I merely choose not to say them.”

“I doubt it,” he muttered, then settled back in his wheelchair to watch the movie, which was just getting started.

He gave every appearance of enjoying it, but as far as Barbie was concerned, this was torture. She’d always avoided being around when her sons watched horror DVDs with the bloodthirsty gusto of teenage boys. Now she squirmed in her seat, covered her face frequently and dashed out of the theater twice. It was even worse than she’d expected. Special effects being what they were, little was left to the imagination.

Barbie knew very well that Mark had planned this. He’d guessed—and guessed right—that she’d hate a movie like The Axman Cometh and had intentionally subjected her to an hour and a half of disgusting violence. The more she thought about it, the more irritated she became. And yet, she was determined to prove she could take it. Even if she couldn’t.

After her second escape, when she’d hurried into the foyer to avoid watching another horrific scene, Mark leaned toward her and asked, “Are you going to finish that popcorn?”

“How can you possibly eat?” she snapped.

His grin seemed boyish as he reached for her bag and helped himself to a huge handful. Oh, yes, she thought grimly, he was enjoying her discomfort.

The movie wasn’t actually all that long but it seemed to drag on for hours and hours and hours. The music, the tension, the blood, the stupidity was simply too much. By the time the movie ended, Barbie felt drained. The lights came up and the twenty or so viewers filed out of the theater. Mark stayed put and so did Barbie.

Finally she turned to him. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”

“Did what?” he asked innocently.