Minute by minute silently passed until finally I heard the barely audible sound of a zipper opening. The stalls in the theater are the kind that are up from the floor about a foot or more, so when he did drop his pants, I saw them scrunch up around his brightly polished black shoe, which was the only one I could see from my vantage point. A second later, I heard the unmistakable sound of a tape being pulled open from a diaper.

My heart was racing and little beads of sweat began to form on my forehead. It took a second before the stench drifted over to my stall. It was bad. It was so very bad that I had to pull the collar of my sweatshirt up over my nose and mouth to breath. It smelled of boiled cabbage and decaying flesh mingled with a hint of rotten eggs. I swear I could actually see the stink seeping underneath the partition between our two stalls like some kind of noxious bio-hazardous brown and green mist.

I could hardly hear over the beating of my heart but I think my heart, stopped when I heard the crinkling of plastic.

And then, from the stall next to me came, “Plop, KURPLOP, plop,” in succession followed by a flush.

I heard more rustling of plastic, and then it got very quiet again. We could hear the movie thundering through the bathroom walls, but neither of us made any sounds. It seemed like such a long time before I heard a whimper from the next stall. I listened more intently and realized, whoever it was over there was crying now.

“Uh, you okay over there?” I called out before I even knew I’d thought the words.

My neighbor was quite for a few seconds and then in a barely audible voice said, “Can you find my mom for me?”

“Huh?” I said without thinking again, “I mean, yeah sure. Uh, are you okay?”

“Please, can you just get my mom?” The boy sounded younger then I had guessed him to be. “She’s in the Harry Potter movie.”

“What’s her name?” I asked.

The boy got quiet again and then said, “I-I-I don’t know.” And began to cry louder.

“It’s okay, don’t cry. I will find her for you. Do you know where she was sitting and what she looks like?

“She has brown hair and she is sitting sort of by the front.” He answered.

I stood up, pulled my pants up and said, “Don’t worry, I’ll try and find her. Uh, what’s your name so I can ask if you are her son?”

“Eben Orric,” he said.

“Oh good, well then, I can just ask for Mrs. Orric and that should be your mom right?” I said.

With a sniffle Eben answered back, “Okay”.

I walked into the theater during a particularly dark scene in the movie. It took a while for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. I stood looking at the backs of everyone’s heads and noticed that there were literally dozens of women with dark hair in the front section. Not knowing what else to do, I went down the back row and whispered, “Mrs. Orric?”

I was nearly to the other side of the theater when a girl, maybe twelve or thirteen years old turned around, looked at me, then tapped the lady in front of her on the shoulder and whispered, “Someone wants you.”

The lady twisted in her seat and I saw that she was of a black lady, but her hair didn’t seem like the sort of hair a black woman would have. I beckoned her to come, which she did.

I met her beside the far wall and asked, “Are you Mrs. Orric?

“Yes,” she answered and I can remember thinking how beautiful her face was. Even in the darkened theater, I could see that she had perfect mocha skin that was framed by straightened brown hair that shimmered as the lights from screen reflected back toward us. She had two of the deepest, most calming green eyes I have ever seen and she smelled like honeysuckles in bloom.

I tried to force my thoughts to come back under control, “And do you have a son named?” I hesitated as I tried to remember the boy’s name, but the wonderful fragrance of her perfume seemed to be calling every active brain cell into olfactory service.

“Eben?” she said for me.

“Yeah-yeah, that’s what he said. Eben. He needs you in the boys restroom,” I said as softly as I could.

I don’t know why I followed her out of the movie and back to the bathroom. Maybe I just wanted to see Eben for myself.

“He’s in that one,” I said, pointing the way to the boys’ room.

Eben’s mom hesitated at the door to the bathroom and I asked, “Want me to make sure no one else is in there first?”

“Could you please?” she said sounding so sweet.

I walked in and saw that only one stall appeared to be occupied. “Eben, you still in here?”

“Yes. Did you find my mom?” he whimpered.

“Yeah, hang on. I just had to check that the coast was clear.” I said and quickly retrieved his mother from the hallway.

“Eben sweetie, what’s the matter?” she asked, using that same sweet sounding tone she’d used on me in the hallway.

Eben lost it and began to cry openly. His mother glanced my way and I got the hint, “Uh, I will just go guard the door.”

“Oh thank you! You are a dear!” she gushed.

When I heard the stall door opening, I wanted to stop and look back, but I didn’t. However, even from the hallway, I could hear Eben with no trouble at all.

“Mommy, I pooped again and it went all inside my pants and got on my shirt!”

Mrs. Orric could only be heard making hushed sounds to console Eben and I imaged that she was helping to get him cleaned up.

“But mommy, what if someone sees?” Eben could be heard expressing his fears.