Photo by Jack Finnigan on Unsplash
Brad reached for Allison's hand as they walked to the car, but she pulled away. They'd been arguing about money. It wasn't the first time – they had totally different views of what was essential, what was frivolous, and what things should cost – but it was somehow the worst. Nastier, with the kind of accusations and recriminations that are hard to take back. They had plans to meet their friends for dinner, plans that had been rescheduled several times already, so they couldn't just cancel, even though neither of them felt much like socializing.
As an olive branch of sorts, Brad thought he would open the car door for his wife, but Allison stepped in front of him and opened it herself. He shuffled around to the driver's side, got in, and pulled away from the curb. They sat in stony silence for the whole ride to the restaurant.
When they walked into Charlie's Eatery, a dark, wood-paneled steak and seafood place that Brad had suggested for the group, they saw their friends were already seated at a table for six against the back wall. Lee and Rebecca were two women who bought the house around the corner from Brad and Allison about a year ago. They were great fun – boisterous, smart, unfiltered, easy to laugh. Joe, still fit in his sixties with a shaved head and a goatee, was Allison's colleague in the English Department at the college. His wife Susan was the real estate broker who sold the house to Lee and Rebecca. The six had been out together several times already, and always had a good time. Allison smiled and waved as she walked to the table. Brad hoped things would lighten up once they joined the others. Their friends seemed to be arguing about something.
"I can't believe you liked that movie," Lee shouted at Joe. "It was horrible."
"What do you mean?" Joe shot back. "Ed Norton, Brad Fucking Pitt, Helena What's-Her-Name. The whole cast was great! Even Meat Loaf!"
"The one woman in the movie, and you can't remember her name," Susan admonished her husband. "That figures."
""Hi everyone," Brad and Allison said in unison, and all laughed. Allison glared at her husband as if he'd tried to embarrass her somehow. Brad shrugged in apology.
"Are you talking about Fight Club?" said Brad, as he and Allison took their seats at the table. "I thought the first rule about Fight Club is that you're not supposed to talk about Fight Club." He smiled. "I love that movie."
"Of course you do," Allison said with great disdain. "Once I read about it, I knew I wouldn't see it. I don't particularly like Chuck Palahniuk anyway, even though my colleague here," she pointed at Joe, "routinely includes him in his Contemporary American Literature course."
"Absolutely," said Joe. "The book is just as good as the movie. Maybe better!"
Allison continued, "The movie just sounded like a male fantasy about the redemptive glory of violence. You know, something like, 'I punch you I the face, therefore I am.'"
"Yeah, fuck all that mess," said Rebecca. "Men just need to compensate for their tiny little dicks! I'll take a powerful woman like my Lee here anytime." She gave her wife a sloppy wet kiss on the mouth.
Brad considered suggesting that Allison might have seen the film before forming an opinion, but thought better of it.
"Okay," said Joe. "Maybe it's a guy thing. A guy's movie. I get that." He turned to Lee and Rebecca. "Well ladies, what's one of your favorite movies?"
"A League of Their Own!" they said in unison, and everyone broke up laughing.
"Look at that cast," said Lee. "Geena Davis – gorgeous! Rosie – hilarious! And Madonna. Fucking Madonna! I'll put them up against Ed Norton, Brad Fucking Pitt, and … oh, by the way, her name is Helena Bonham-Carter, and she's sexy as fuck! But c'mon! League of Their Own over Fight Club any day of the week. And twice on Sunday!"
"Jeez!" said Joe, laughing. "Lesbians!"
Lee leaned across the table and punched him playfully but firmly on the arm.
Brad noticed they were well into their drinks. "Hey guys," he said, pointing to their glasses. "Allison and I need to catch up before this party really goes off the rails. How about a pitcher of margaritas for the table?" They all nodded. Brad called the waitress over and gave her the order.
"What about you, Allison?" said Susan. "What's your favorite movie?"
"I like a lot of movies," Allison replied. "I love the movies. Let me think for a minute." Joe leaned forward in mock pantomime of dying to know.
"I got it," said Susan. "Here's one: Dr. Strangelove. Now there's a smart critique of men and their sick compulsion to make war. Kubrick is a genius, and so is Peter Sellers. It makes fascist claptrap like Fight Club look … imbecilic!" She cocked her head as if she'd won the argument. "Plus, it's hilariously funny."
"Funny?" said Joe. "Funny how? Funny like I'm a clown? I amuse you?"
"Goodfellas!" everyone said at once just as the waitress came back with the pitcher and six glasses.
This seemed like an opportunity to Brad. "Can we all agree that Goodfellas is a great movie?" Joe and Susan nodded, and Lee and Rebecca clapped politely and smiled. Allison scowled, unhappy that Brad was holding center stage. Brad poured the drinks.
"Here's to the great Joe Pesci," said Joe.
"You mean Lorraine Bracco," said Rebecca. "You need a strong woman in that sausage-fest. She makes the movie great."
"No," said Brad, incredulous. "Ray Liotta." He worried the consensus was slipping away.
Allison cleared her throat. ""You're all wrong. The star of the show is Mr. Robert DeNiro, greatest actor working today." It got suddenly quiet; no one could disagree.
"To Robert DeNiro," they all said, then clinked glasses and drank.
Alan Brickman is a writer of short stories and flash fiction. In his day job, he consults to nonprofit organizations on strategy and organizational development. Raised in New York, educated in Massachusetts, he now lives in New Orleans with his 18-year old border collie Jasper, and neither of them can imagine living anywhere else. Alan's fiction has appeared in Literary Heist, Variety Pack, SPANK the CARP, Evening Street Press, Sisyphus Magazine, Random Sample Review, and Deep Overstock, among others. He can be reached at alanbrickman13@gmail.com.