Page 21 of Kitten

“I’m not saying it’s bad,” said James. “It’s very Shakespeare. You have a bunch of different suitors, totally avoidable misunderstandings, and, I’m assuming, a big, gay, chaotic wedding at the end.”

Was this obvious, or was James just overeducated? He formed strong and instant opinions on everything, from movies to subway advertisements, often citing cultural trends or phenomena that I then had to pretend to know. I bit my tongue again and decided that maybe James and Iwere meant to enjoy different things, or else view the same things differently.

The film’s first climax, the night of Sophie’s bachelorette party, approached. One of Donna’s suitors tells Sophie he must be her father.

“That can’t be the end of it,” James said. “Pierce Brosnan and Colin Firth are going to jump in and tell her the same thing.”

He was right. “Sam and Harry. And you told me you’ve never seen this before.”

“I haven’t, but it’s obvious, right?”

He saw my dejection. “Sorry, sorry, let me turn that part of my brain off. I can see why you love this movie. It’s really playful, everything’s exaggerated.”

Was it? That was news to me.

“Definitely,” he said. “Less my style, though.”

“You’re playful.”

“When I’m around you.”

I felt stunned. One of my favorite things about being with James was that his speech asserted reality, revealing dimensions of personality previously unknown to me. I was playful, I thought. I made him playful.

Turning this shiny piece of information in my head, I was totally unprepared for the main scene of the film, the performance of the song “Slipping Through My Fingers.” Sophie frowns in the mirror before her wedding. Soon she will marry her fiancé and leave the island, and her mother, for good. Donna watches her daughter with a knowing smile, as if she can already see Sophie the bride, not Sophie the girl. Still, it’s the girl Donna sings about: the girl wavingabsentmindedly in the morning, the girl’s sleepy eyes and private mind. “The feeling that I’m losing her forever,” Donna laments, “and without really entering her world.”

I could stomach most of this, but when Sophie entered the frame, I had to try hard not to cry. I pictured curling up in Donna’s lap like I’d never leave her and then having no choice but to go. The moment mother and daughter launched into verse together, I had to look away, the beauty of it obscene. With wet eyes and faces seismic with emotion, they sang to the mirror, and each other, for the final time. The combination of their simmering voices and golden limbs felt sacrilegious. They were making visible a divine love that ordinary people did not understand nor deserve at all to witness. I felt guilty watching them, like I was peeking behind the curtain of heaven before dying.

I glanced at James. He was looking at his phone.

“Hey,” I said.

He raised his head. “Sorry, it was my mom.”

This was the worst thing he could’ve said.

“She sent me some money,” he said. “To take you to dinner. Her treat.”

“Why would she send you money? You already have money.”

“It’s a gift. You’re our guest.”

I didn’t know how to communicate my violent disappointment that James had zoned out during the most important scene. You’re being abnormal, I thought to myself, while declaring aloud, “I don’t want to watch anymore.”

“Are you joking?”

“No.”

“Really, Katie? Come on, I’ve put it away, let’s finish.”

“No,” I repeated, while somewhere in the back of my head, a voice—Lou’s voice—told me to calm down. I could hear her so clearly: Katie, you’re being a psycho. I looked at James’s face, decided it wasn’t wounded enough, and ignored her. “You don’t understand this movie. You think it’scamp.We might as well stop now.”

“No, I’m enjoying it. I want to see how it ends.”

“In a big, gay, chaotic wedding, just like youfuckingpredicted.”

“What the fuck?” James looked bewildered, like he couldn’t believe the argument involved him. “Why are you shouting?”

A tangle of fury unspooled inside me. “I’m not,” I said. “I’m just not in the mood anymore. It has nothing to do with you.”