As it is we went to the movies. 8 years later we went to the movies together for the first time. Till the last moment I thought he will bail out of it, but he did come with us. Though he did jump on the work-related call just as we parked the car and were all in the let-the-fun-begin mood. He hated the theater (it did smell kind of nasty). He didn’t like the idea of wearing the glasses even though you can’t watch a 3D movie without them. I volunteered to go get popcorn which he barely touched. And of course of all the people he had the “luck” to sit in front of the boy who kept kicking on his chair, but instead of asking him to stop he just sat there slowly filling up on disdain and anger. And the movie itself was too boring and naïve for his taste. He did laugh a couple of times at odd places. But mostly I just sensed his tension which spread onto me so I couldn’t enjoy a rather enjoyable movie either. I noticed all the annoying things that I successfully ignored before: babies crying, loud ladies with too loud laughter, snacks being unwrapped wits rustle. Then he started checking his phone – I saw no missed calls on the screen. Yet he asked what time the movie ends. Then he suddenly had enough – he walked out in the middle of it saying he will wait for us in the car. I will never believe that sitting in the car can be more enjoyable than sitting in the movie. Yet it was a relief when he left as though he took all the tension with him. I finally got into the movie as I should have from the start and felt the familiar pleasure of being carried away, into another world, another reality.
He barely spoke in the car, though he did ask how we liked the movie. I barely spoke too struggling to accept, embrace, make peace with the fact that I share my life with someone who doesn’t know how to enjoy anything. Dry. Spiteful. Impatient. Always cranky. What I didn’t want to see or fully acknowledge was presented to me in a most bold form. I don’t complain. I probably don’t even have regrets. It is what it is no matter how annoying the phrase is.
I do want to ask – why? And why me? And if there’s hope? And will it change? For now I’m just trying to deflate a little that big balloon of hurt, minimize its effect and, as another beaten-up phrase suggests, focus on the positive. Is wanting to share my unshared life too much to wish for?
Movie Night
