Published in Christian Fiction On-line
He went to see a movie classic
But found his future instead.
A sharp jab to the ribs pulled Dave from his fantasy.
“Earth calling Dave. You’ve been staring at that girl for fifteen minutes. Stop ogling
and go talk to her,” Sean said. He pulled the popcorn bucket from Dave’s hand.
Maybe he had been staring a little longer than a good soldier should. Anything to take
his mind off this lame excuse for a send off. A Star Wars Movie Marathon had to be at
the bottom of his “How I Want to Spend My Last Night in the USA” list.
Sean meant well. If nothing else, his company always worth a few laughs. Even if he
filled the bulk of his conversation with trivia, like why most of the Stormtroopers are
left-handed. “Because of how the weapons were constructed,” he explained. “Lke a
real weapons. The magazine is on the left side. When they fire, the weapons hit the
troopers in the chest. So they had to switch their grip and that makes them look left-
handed.” Then Sean had confessed to the oodles of hours spent researching the
Internet for Star Wars tidbits.
Better to spend these remaining hours with Sean than alone.
Here Dave sat, a soon to be war hero in Han Solo garb next to a Darth Vader wannabe,
ogling perhaps the prettiest girl on the planet, maybe even the cosmos.
Something about her. Amid the fifty or more Princess Leias sprinkled around the
theater, only her eyes matched his mother’s birthstone.
He slumped in his seat. “Sean, I think I see my future.”
Could Sean possibly understand Dave’s envy? Sean lived a life Dave only dreamt
about. A wife and a baby on the way. Settled. Church every Sunday and in-laws for
dinner. Family identified a man.
Dave had volunteered for Iraq—for men like Sean. Let them stay with their babies
and let those with no ties fight the terrorists.
Sean rapped Dave with a knuckle-beanie. “You’re drooling. Quit acting like Jaba the
Hut and ask her out.”
Dave thrust a fistful of popcorn into his mouth. His knees knocked and a kernel stuck
in his throat. At least he stopped drooling. Instead, he would choke to death. He could
see the headlines now: Soldier dies from popcorn kernel on eve of Iraqi tour.
She stood, turned, and took off her sweater. Was it merely his vanity or did she look
directly his way when she smiled? But of course, the whole theater stared at the idiot
gagging in the back. Sean passed him his soda and the offending kernel finally slid
down.
This time Sean shoved the sharp end of his light saber into Dave’s side. “Well, the
movie’s about to start. If you’re going to grab your future, better do it now. Here, take
the popcorn with you.”
Dave grabbed his jacket just as the lights faded. Somewhere deep in his boots he found
the courage to sit next to her. Maybe he could muster up some Han Solo charm and
drown out the thump-thump of his heart. “So you like science-fiction, hey?” Not the
best opener, but would have to do even if the words shrieked like Chewbacca’s wail.
“Yeah. I’m a Trekkie, too.”
Was she the type who saw Close Encounters of the Third Kind a gazillion times or
waited for aliens on top of the Empire State Building? Possibly, but eccentricity seemed
inconsequential in her.
“Hi. I’m Dave. Dave Dubruski. Not Russian, though.”
Yikes! Had he really just blubbered like C3PO on uppers. “Popcorn?”
“Thanks!” She took a dainty handful and giggled when some fell to the floor.
Her soft staccatos like the call of a loon in his home Adirondacks. “My name is Nikita.”
And Dave felt his future collapse into a black hole. His face probably paled whiter than
a Stormtrooper’s armor.
She stared into his eyes. Was she waiting for him to say something? If so, he’d already
used up whatever scraps of clever he came with. Nothing left to do but go back and face
the gloating Sean. He pushed his hands against his seat in an effort to stand. “Sorry, I
bothered, you.”
“Hey. Relax. I’m joking. My name is really Cherilee Adams. And I’m not Russian,
either.” She laughed again.
“So, um—so—“
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, I’d like to have coffee with you after the movie.”
Music roared. He thought the orchestra played from within his heart until he saw the
words roll across the screen: …in a galaxy far, far away…
He smiled back at Sean’s congratulatory thumbs up.
Dave leaned back and offered Cherilee more popcorn.
A sense of completion hovered in the vision. He saw the two of them seated by their
fireplace and three little Leias playing at their feet. By this time tomorrow, he’d be on
a plane heading for Bagdad. No longer a Luke Skywalker seeking revenge against an
evil empire. For in these last transcending moments, The Force engulfed him—not
that fictitious force of devoted Jedi Knights—but the True Force only God sends—hope
and love.
Copyright by Linda Rondeau
For reprint permission
email: lrondeau@westelcom.com
| STAR WARS AND BEYOND |
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| A SPECIAL FEATURE BY LINDA RONDEAU |