After Credits: Parking Lot, by Jillian Law

The best part isn’t the movie.

Half the time, I wouldn’t come if it was just about the movie

(because let’s face it, sometimes we see some junk).

But I do come.

I sit and eat popcorn and watch a screen silently.

I sit and wait for my favorite part.

We never go home right after a movie

Never, not once

We linger in the theater, talking over another

There’s so much to say and not enough time or words to say it

When do you go back to school?

Is that the actress from Shameless?

Show me pictures of your new bunny.

We talk until the credits end and someone notices a guy standing by the exit, waiting for us to leave so he can clean the theater

We leave the theater, but the conversation doesn’t end

We lean against our cars, parked in the same place we always park

Right under the streetlamps

I shiver and suggest we talk inside my car

Rachel gives me a blanket from hers instead

Getting inside the car feels too much like wanting to leave for us tonight

There’s no limit to where these conversations can go

We complain about school and our parents

We talk about the future and our dreams

Where we will be soon and where we want to go

There’s plans to study abroad and take LSATs and MCATs

There are plans to write more and worry less

Fears are shared, stories told

Tonight, we talk about the movie

We talk about our parents and how you don’t always get to choose your family but you do have to stick by them

We decide that it’s easier said than done to cut toxic people out of a person’s life

We agree that people are not black and white, not ever, and that childhood was wrong about that

Sometimes, I feel like we could solve all the world’s problems standing underneath this streetlamp

Somehow, my friends start debating if I’ve ever ate a vegetable in front of them

Gabby doesn’t think I even know where the vegetable section in the grocery store is

They laugh when I pause to think about vegetables I like, and I protest

They decide that corn will count for now and that my ranch to broccoli ratio is maybe too high

I’m still shivering, bouncing back and forth until Irese tells me I’m making her nervous

I start tapping my foot instead and wrap the blanket tighter around me, trying to keep warm

I don’t want to leave

I want to savor this moment, savor them

Bask in these girls, their friendship, their company

The way any conversation seems right with them

How nothing is too scary or too silly to say when we’re leaning against our cars in the parking lot

We keep talking until it gets late

And then Rachel’s little sister is texting her asking when she’s going to be home with her popcorn

And Irese has to work tomorrow

Gabby and I are both tired, and I’m still cold

But none of us quite want to leave

We slowly inch our way towards our cars

Giving at least three goodbye hugs

But we keep talking

Really, we could be here all night

Rachel says to get in our cars on the count of three

One more round of hugs

And then we do

One, two, three

We get in our cars and drive away

We drive away and I think to myself,

I can’t wait for our next movie night