Page 137 of ClickBack

I’ve watched Set It Off at home, on a bus, in a hotel room when I should have been asleep. I know which parts people start talking through and which ones shut the room up. Somebody two rows down has a warning for every bad decision. Brenda tells Malcolm to hush before he finishes inhaling. Giselle laughs at a comment behind us and leans over to whisper what she missed because Marla was talking.

I bend toward her, and she leaves her hand on my thigh when she sits back.

When Stony loses her brother, Giselle sniffles. I look over. She presses a finger beneath her nose, still watching, and I lift my arm so she can come closer. She fits herself against my side. I rub her shoulder and kiss the top of her head.

“I forgot how early it starts,” she whispers.

I didn’t. That part has always fucked with me. I’ve got a little brother. I don’t need much help getting there.

But I’d forgotten how much happens before anybody walks into a bank with a gun. Every time one of them tries to work something out, somebody has another reason she can’t. Giselle’s hand tightens on my leg when Tisean’s son is taken from her. I cover it with mine.

She knows this movie, too. She’s been laughing ahead of the jokes. Now she isn’t moving at all.

By the time Cleo is alone in that car, I’m sitting forward. I know what she’s about to do. Still catch myself looking at the space around her like I might see a way she missed.

“Damn,” I mutter.

It comes out rough. I press my lips together and swallow. Nobody near us has anything to say now.

Giselle reaches into her purse. The light from the screen catches her face, and I turn fully toward her. Both cheeks are wet. She’s been wiping them, but there are fresh tears running over the same places.

I take the purse from her lap while she gets the tissues out, then lift the armrest between us.

“Come here.”

She leans into me, her forehead against my jaw. I hold her there while she cries. My own throat still won’t quite work, so I don’t try to say anything else. She gets one hand inside my jacket and grips my shirt.

I look back at the screen over her head. I have spent every other viewing wanting somebody to get away. This time I keep thinking about how little they wanted when the movie started.

When the lights come up, Malcolm is rubbing both palms over his face.

“I told myself I wasn’t doing this again,” he says.

Brenda hands him a tissue. “You bought the tickets.”

“Because you wanted to come.”

“I wanted to see the comedy last month. You said we could watch that at home.”

Giselle sits up, leaving her hand against my stomach while she checks her reflection in her phone. I pass her the purse. She takes out a compact and studies the damage.

“Well,” she says.

“We can stay a minute.”

She looks at me instead of the compact. “You all right?”

I clear my throat. “They could’ve let Cleo make it.”

“You say that every time?”

“Every fucking time.”

She gives a small, wet laugh. I wipe a tear from beside her nose with my thumb before she can catch it with the tissue.

“You ready?” I ask.

“Almost.”