Mary carefully disengaged herself from Mya a few minutes later.  A whispered "Bathroom," and she left, leaving her purse behind on the seat beside Mya.<br/><br/><em>"What are you doing?"</em>Mary asked herself quietly inside the stall of the restroom.  She hung the fleece on the purse hook of the door, then bit her lip.  Mary's hands went to the bottom of her t-shirt, then crossed and pulled it up and over her head.  Before she could talk herself out of it, Mary put the fleece back on and zipped it up, then folded the shirt into as small a package as she could and stuffed it in the left front pocket.  It took two tries.  Her hands were shaking that hard.  At the door to the theater, she paused and almost backed out, but finally got up the nerve to go back inside.  Mary sat down beside Mya but wasn't quite touching her.  In the dark, she transferred the t-shirt into her purse.<br/><br/>The movie only had a quarter of an hour left to go when Mary breathed in and scooted across the divide so she was sitting hip to hip with Mya again.  She reached over and took Mya's hand and drew it into her lap.  Mary released it after squeezing it, then unzipped her fleece halfway, the teeth separating with sounds as loud as gunshots in her mind but effectively silent in the theater.  Her hand shaking noticeably now, she took Mya's and lifted it to the opening and slid it inside the fleece.<br/><br/>Beneath was only bare skin.  Mary let Mya's hand register that, then she moved it up and over until the black girl's hand was cupping Mary's breast.  Mary let go and sat there, body trembling with anxiety.<br/>