He sat down again.

His hands rested on the armrests.

But he wasn’t watching the movie.

His thumb moved rapidly against his finger.

“Owen?”

He stared toward the exit.

“Did you see how his dad grabbed him?”

“Yes.”

Several seconds passed.

Then Owen stood.

“I’ll be back.”

This time, I followed.

We stepped into the bright lobby.

Before I saw the family, I heard the father’s voice.

“You embarrassed me in front of everybody.”

Near the box office, Ethan stood in front of his dad.

His mother was several feet away, speaking on her phone.

Ethan was crying.

“I’m sorry.”

His father still had hold of his arm.

“You never think.”

“Dad, that hurts.”

Several people nearby were watching.

Nobody intervened.

Owen stopped about fifteen feet away.

His face changed.

For a moment, I wasn’t looking at my thirty-eight-year-old husband anymore.

I was looking at the nine-year-old boy he had once been.

Then he stepped forward.

“Hey.”

The father turned.

“Oh, come on. What do you want now?”

Owen remained calm.

“Please let go of his arm.”

The father laughed.

“This is my son.”

“I know.”

“Then stay out of it.”

“You’re hurting him.”

“I’m parenting him.”

Owen looked at the man’s hand.

“Look at how tightly you’re holding him.”

The father glanced down.

For a brief second, something crossed his face.

Then he looked back at Owen.

“Get away from me.”

He stepped forward.

Owen didn’t move back.

But he didn’t challenge him either.

“I’m not going to fight you,” Owen said.

“I’m not going to shout.”

His voice remained level.

“I’m asking you to let go.”

The entire lobby seemed to quiet.

“When I was Ethan’s age,” Owen continued, “my father used to take me to the movies.”

The man said nothing.

“It was one of the only places where he usually stayed calm.”

Owen swallowed.

“One night, I spilled a drink. He got angry and pulled me outside.”

His voice became slightly unsteady.

“A woman nearby saw what was happening.”

I held my breath.