Alone in the Movie Theater by Jane Anderson

Alone in the Movie Theater

 By Jane Anderson

Downtown Minneapolis

1978

Age 12

Mother and I sat in the waiting room of my rheumatologist’s office after the gold injection in my butt. I was supposed to sit for 15 minutes after the shot; in case there are side effects. For some reason she suddenly was mad at me after something I said. I don’t remember what. I vaguely remember talking back at her.

Suddenly she got up and said loudly, “Thats it! I’m going home!” and left the office. We were going to see the movie, “The Wiz” at the Skyway Theater. I had looked forward to it all week.

There were about three women in the waiting room staring at me with concerned faces. I wanted to disappear under the chair. The receptionist asked if can get home by myself. I said yes. I had started riding the bus downtown by myself about two years before, since I went to the doctor almost weekly for treatment: a gold shot, possible cortisone shots in the joints, and sometimes a blood or urine test for my rheumatoid arthritis. The onset was at age four. I would cringe when he suggested a cortisone injection, in my finger joints, elbows, or any joint that was inflamed. I remember how painful they were. Gold injections are not a common treatment today. Anti-inflammatory drugs and biologics are the usual treatment now. I was also taking various oral medications with trial and error.

I walked to the movie theater a few blocks away in defiance, thinking she didn’t mean what she said. I wanted to see the movie. Maybe she was waiting for me there. I sat on the velvet covered bench, then stood just inside the door to the theater while the movie started, wondering where she was. I couldn’t believe she would just leave me alone like that. My legs and feet were starting to hurt, but I was afraid I would get in trouble if I went in and sat down without paying. Michael Jackson and Diana Ross were singing “Ease on Down the Road.” I didn’t have enough money for a ticket, just enough for the bus fare home. I think I left after about a half hour. I was hurting too much and felt embarrassed just standing in the entrance, wondering what the staff thought about a young girl alone in the movie theater without her parents…

I pushed the buzzer for mother to let me in our apartment building. Her voice sounded stressed. She was on the phone when I walked in the door. “She just got home. Yes. Thank you for your help.” I was surprised that she called the police and how worried she was.

She asked, “Where were you?”

‘I went to the movie theater looking for you.”

“I told you I was going home!”

“Oh.”

She said, “I called the theater, but no one saw you there.”

“I sat on the bench waiting for you, then I stood in the doorway trying to watch the movie.”

“The staff didn’t say anything to you?”

“No.”

(Actually, I figured she just went home but I wanted so bad to see the movie with her like normal people do. But she usually would cause a scene like in the doctor’s office. See the irony here?)

“I’ll start supper now. What do you want?”

She was being nice to me…