They walked toward the doors.
Just before leaving, Ethan turned around.
He waved at Owen.
Owen waved back.
When they disappeared through the glass doors, the lobby slowly returned to normal.
Owen remained standing in the middle of it.
I walked over and took his hand.
It was shaking.
Hard.
“Can we leave?” he whispered. “I don’t think I can finish the movie.”
“Of course.”
We walked to the car.
Owen sat behind the steering wheel but didn’t start the engine.
For a long time, he stared at the theater.
Then he lowered his forehead onto the steering wheel and cried.
I had seen Owen cry only a few times during our marriage.
This was different.
It felt like something that had been locked inside him for decades finally had somewhere to go.
I put a hand on his back.
Eventually he sat upright.
“The parking lot,” he said.
