“Handmade. I also brought popcorn, Peanut M&Ms, Twix, and Red Vines for dessert. The candy here is way overpriced.”
“Right. So this is where you came up with your idea for ZodiaCupid?” I ask as Bennett removes the lids off the containers.
“No, that was somewhere different.”
“I see. Then what kind of ideas do you get here for your business?” I probe. Tonight cannot be a waste. “Is this where you thought up the idea for this mysterious product launch happening?”
“All my best ones, and actually, yes. But you still have to wait to find out what that one is.” He ignores my groan of protest and reaches for the bag of candy, setting it between us.
I look toward the backseat. “Any chance you’ve got a slushie machine back there?”
“You sure do ask a lot of questions, don’t you?” he says with a laugh. “I like that about you. One second.” He jumps out of the car. I watch him run to the concession stand and return with large blue raspberry slushies in each hand. “I’ll splurge for slushies.”
I poke the straw into the blue icy slush. “Any chance you’ve got a money machine back there, too?” I ask.
“If only,” Bennett says, resettling into the driver’s seat. He twists a button on the radio to find the right station for the movie.
“Does this radio even work?” I ask in a teasing tone.
“It’s the first thing I fixed,” he says.
The screen in front of us lights up, shining light onto the hoods of everyone’s cars. “You didn’t have to handmake sushi! This must have taken you so long,” I say, picking up a piece of sushi with my chopsticks and biting into it. “Whoa. What’s that flavor?”
Bennett rolls up the sleeves of his slate-gray sweater and watches as I try to figure out the flavor pairing. “It’s pumpkin, sage, and brown butter,” he finally says.
“Sage! Yes, that’s it. Unexpected. I don’t stray too far from my usual sushi suspects. This is different.” I take another look at the center of the sushi. Soft grains of rice wrap around cooked pumpkin with minced fresh sage and brown butter, the crispy dark seaweed exterior adding a salty finish.
“I know it’s unconventional, but I think the flavors really work well together.” Bennett pops the entire piece of sushi into his mouth.
“They surprisingly do. It’s nice, actually,” I acknowledge.
Bennett smiles. “I’m happy you like it.”
We watch the opening scene of the movie as we alternate between bites of sushi and sips of slushie. There’s a comfortable silence between us as we eat.
“Can I tell you something?” I whisper to Bennett.
“Okay,” he whispers back.
“I’ve always wanted to experience a drive-in movie.”
“I hope it’s to your satisfaction.”
“Four and a half stars,” I say.
“That’s my highest review yet,” he says gratefully.
I try to stifle a laugh. “Why are we whispering? We’re not in a theater,” I continue speaking quietly.
“Then I can do this?” Bennett rips open the bag of Peanut M&Ms and crunches a handful of candy between his teeth.
“And this.” I chomp down on the Twix bar but there’s hardly a sound.
“Shhh!” he says playfully.
Amusement bubbles up inside of me. I hug my arms around my body, my sweater the only barrier against the cool evening air. Bennett pulls two blankets from the backseat and offers me one.
“Thanks. You’re like a magician,” I say, accepting the blanket.
“I come prepared.” Bennett holds his blanket in front of him, shielding his face before dropping it and ducking as though he’s disappeared.
“Impressive,” I tease, fluffing the blanket over my lap. The glow from the screen illuminates his face.
“What’s your favorite movie?” Bennett asks.
“I can’t pick just one movie as a favorite,” I say. “Love Story for a good cry, To Catch a Thief for love in a stunning setting, 10 Things I Hate about You for the dialogue, anything and everything by Nora Ephron. It depends on my mood.”
“Great choices. You could be in the love business.” Bennett grabs a handful of popcorn. “So you prefer the rom-com classics?” he asks before I have to respond.
I run my hand along the edge of the striped blanket and nod. “I do. The humor was wittier, less vulgar.”
“I couldn’t agree more. Movies now have to involve capes and powers or over-the-top visuals to be a hit. Is it too much to ask to watch regular people trying to figure out life?”
“Movies now are a literal escape from reality. But to me, love stories are the best escape. What’s your favorite movie?” I ask, taking a sip of slushie.
“Don’t laugh, but it’s Big,” Bennett reveals.
“Why Big?” I ask, assuming it’s because he’s in such a hurry to get to the end destination.
Bennett sits back against the driver’s seat, placing his arm up on the window. “I watched that movie so many times, thinking about how cool it would be to turn into an adult overnight. All I wanted to do was grow up.”
“Were you trying to grow up to impress a girl and ride on the adult roller coasters like Tom Hanks did in the movie?” I prod. “Or were you trying to rush to the finish line? It would be very Rat-like of you.”
Bennett rests his free hand on the steering wheel. “Yes, it’s true, the Rat won the Great Race.”
“The Rat played tricks on the other animals to secure his first-place spot. He got his free ride on the backs of others—”
“Like the Ox who helped him cross the river,” Bennett interjects.
“Um, yes, that’s right,” I say, surprised by how much he actually does know. “Then he jumped onto land before the Ox could move fast enough to get to the finish line. I googled this out of curiosity.”
“Uh-huh. Well, sounds like a smart animal to me,” Bennett says, smiling. “You don’t think that’s all a myth?”
“I like to believe there’s a tiny bit of truth to it,” I say. “Whether it’s legend or the zodiac itself, these are bigger concepts for people to believe in. To find comfort and reasons for why things are the way they are. A way to make sense of the world.”
He quickly blinks a few times. “And you think Big being my favorite movie has something to do with…the Great Race somehow?”
I shrug. “You tell me.”
Bennett raises his left eyebrow. “I wanted to be bigger because I had a pretty tough childhood. I became obsessed with anything that promised an escape,” he explains, a wave of sadness seemingly washing over him. He clears his throat. “My mom died when I was six.”
“Oh,” I whisper, my pulse quickening. I redden with shame for all the assumptions I carelessly made. For the conclusions I jumped to in my article. So much for Vent Drafting. “I’m so sorry, Bennett. I can’t imagine how hard that must’ve been.”
Bennett speaks toward the screen, the creases between his eyebrows deepening. With his profile facing me, I can look at him for as long as I want. “When I’d ask my dad about her, he’d just get sad and change the subject. He couldn’t feel his way through the pain to teach me. I grew up wanting to know who she was, what her favorite flower was, what kind of music she listened to when she did the laundry…would she be proud of the man I’ve become?” He grunts softly.