Al Teatro

Audience members are scattered far from one another in worn blue chairs. They are mostly silver-haired and seated in pairs. A group of college students, in comparison, clusters tightly together in the front of the theater, chatting and comparing things on phones. They speak quietly to one another as lights flash over the exit signs, indicating five minutes to show. 

One man with a wizened look and thick, slate-gray hair tucked under a hat approaches our seats. He exchanges some words with one of the nearby college students, a boy with short dark hair and a clean-shaven face, about the performer, and light-heartedly scolds him for not coming to church on Sunday. 

The boy with the short hair smiles uncomfortably at the attention. He seems uncomfortable with the man's loud calls to him. He answers with a much softer tone, trying to get the older man to speak more quietly. Instead, the older man takes his quietness for disinterest, and cuts the conversation short quickly, returning to his wife with his bright smile slightly dulled. 

The boy grimaces regretfully, then returns his attention to the girl beside him. She is wearing all black and a quiet smile. She giggles when he mentions the older man's name and says something about church. He shakes his head.

Meanwhile, beside me, a boy with a goatee and a girl with a bob grin at each other over some private joke. They frequently touch, exchanging playful hits and pokes as they pretend to insult each other. They are dressed casually in jeans and t-shirts. I notice now that the older guests are wearing much more formal attire--skirts and blouses for the women, and button-up shirts and khakis for the men.

Someone else has noticed this on my left.

"We're under-dressed," comments a young Hispanic with a faint mustache. His friend, who wears a pair of wire-rimmed glasses, nods his agreement.

The lights flash in warning one more time, and then the house lights begin to dim. While the older members of the audience quiet immediately, those who look more like college students whisper fervently to one another until the moment the actors step onstage. Some continue to mutter to one another throughout the show, discreetly checking their phones or watches, making faces at one another and chuckling at the events onstage.

I watch the man with the hat from previously sitting serenely with his wife as they enjoy the show. Without words, they seem to communicate. He holds her hand, smiling without turning his head when something funny is said. His wife, a kind-looking woman with graying hair, smiles each time her husband does, without turning to see him. A love song plays; he lightly squeezes her fingers. A heartbreaking moment occurs in a scene, her eyes soften and his hand pats hers as if sensing that she is moved.

Then something in the current scene captures my attention completely, and I only have time to marvel at their simple, silent exchange for a few moments before being swept into the drama unfolding onstage.