I suppose it has been almost 60 years since I first encountered George and Betty.
That evening was as beautiful as you could ever hope for. Seventy-two degrees and just enough of a breeze to carry the scent of honeysuckle from the park a few blocks down.
Droves of people started arriving an hour before dusk, all excited to see the new Marilyn Monroe flick. That Marilyn, she sure could draw a crowd. By the roars of laughter and excited chit-chat after the earlier showing, I could tell that "Some Like it Hot" was going to be one of the year's success stories.
Not even that could compare to these two. They sure were a sight to behold.
His jet black hair and strong features caught the eyes of all the girls that passed, many of whom blushed and giggled to one another as they paraded by.
He didn't notice though. After all, he wasn't there for them.
She only kept him waiting for five minutes, and man oh man, could that dame make an entrance.
Pearlescent combs pinned back her blond curls, and her lips were painted crimson. The yellow dress she wore was belted at her waistline and swung slightly below her knee, and the pocketbook she carried matched perfectly with her modest white gloves and heels.
Time is a finicky thing, but I swear it stood still when she rounded the corner. Their eyes met, and I could practically hear his heart stop. The poor guy, he was so nervous buying the tickets he nearly dropped his wallet! She giggled and took his arm as they strolled through the doors.
Every Friday night matinee, there was George and Betty. I imagine it had been a year of dates when he knelt before her and proposed. She said yes through tear-filled eyes as he scooped her up in his arms and swung her around.
Everyone around them smiled and clapped, offering their congratulations. A couple ladies even gave their beaus a look that unmistakably hinted that their time better be soon.
The newly engaged couple paid them no mind. They were too lost in a whirl of joyful tears, hugs, and kisses. Their laughter echoed through the air and time stood still again.
George and Betty's love was intoxicating, and the shift in the atmosphere was palpable whenever they arrived. Everything seemed brighter, more full of life. They were a joy to watch.
Then one evening, something was different. There was a somber tone to their demeanor, a quiet melancholy that was deafening.
He sure looked sharp in his uniform though.
I saw Betty often over the next few years, but something about her had changed. She was still as stunning as ever, but a part of her was just... missing.
George came back about a year and a half after that somber evening. Standing in the same spot, night after night, always waiting. He looked just as he had the first time he had stepped onto my promenade, but there seemed to be something missing from him, too.
Through the years, Betty's visits became less frequent.
Maybe she was scared to come; the neighborhood just isn't the same. Perhaps it's too far out of her way. Or it could be that my screen doesn't show the stars it once did. Too many seasons have been hard on me, and I don't look as good as I did all those years ago.
The last time Betty graced my path, it appeared as though they had taken their toll on her as well.
The passage of time sure has a way of doing that.
It has been a while now since anyone has walked through my doors, but George still comes. Stoicly he stands, yet the passersby don't pay him any mind.
He's not there for them, anyway.
I give him credit though, he sure is a patient man.
Then one night, a stunning blond with her curls pinned back rounded the corner, and the air crackled alive once again. Their faces beamed as she rushed to meet his embrace.
Nothing is missing anymore.
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