3D Visions
37
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Walking into the box office, we join the queue, my mind replaying our earlier confrontation—why are we butting heads over such a trivial matter as my lipstick? There’s a nagging itch at the back of my thoughts, wondering if I should apologize. But for what? I’m tired of always being the first to concede, to apologize even when I don’t fully understand what went wrong.
I glance at Special from the corner of my eye. He seems lost in his own thoughts, his expression unreadable. Despite feeling lost in my own emotions, and not sure if I have the energy to navigate this complicated terrain, I’m wishing. I wish I could read his mind, understand what’s bothering him, and maybe find a way to make things right.
The irony is not lost on me—here I am, about to watch a movie so I can judge the characters and their choices, while the real-life tensions between Special and me remain unresolved.
We approach the ticket counter, and the attendant tells us there’s a 3D version of the movie. I look to Special, asking him if he has seen a movie in 3D before and he says no.
“I haven’t too, we can do it to gether.” I suggest, excited.
When I turn to the attendant to tell him our choice, he mentions the price which is some pounds higher than the regular movie ticket. I look at Special and he shakes his head.
“Don’t worry.” I smile, requesting two 3D tickets. “Do you care for popcorn and drinks?”
“No,” Special says, “I’m fine.”
“I care,” I tease, hoping he would join me later during the movie. “My treat.”
As I pay for the tickets, I catch a fleeting glance from Special. There’s a subtle shift in his expression I can’t quite interpret.
We enter the cinema and find our seats. The lights dim and the movie begins. I let myself be enveloped by the spectacle on the screen. Vivid images and a captivating storyline should be enough to capture my attention, but my mind keeps drifting back to our unresolved conflict.
Am I being too stubborn? Is he still carrying this lipstick thing on his head? For now, I’m unsure what to do. I offer him the popcorn, twice, but he refuses it.
With the closing credits rolling on the big screen and the lights gradually brightening, we step out of the cinema. I watch as Special removes his 3D glasses and tosses them into the bin provided.
“I thought—” I hesitate, noticing there’s something in the way he does it.
When I catch up, falling in step beside him, I try to lighten the mood as we walk, my hand brushing against his arm. “You know,” I say with a playful grin. “I kind of liked those 3D glasses. They made us pay for them, can’t we keep them? We could have 3D movie nights at home.”
For a moment, there’s a flicker of a smile on Special’s face, and I feel a glimmer of hope. But his response is far from what I expected.
“It’s always about money with you, isn’t it?”
What?
“Money is the root of all evil, you know,” he continues. “And it seems like you love flaunting yours. Everything is about how much you’re earning, how much you can spend.”
Where is this coming from? I was only trying to make you smile!
“I didn’t mean—” I start, my throat tightening in my confusion.
He cuts me off, “I know what you meant. And maybe it’s time for us to have an honest conversation about this.”
Flabbergasted can’t describe how stunned I feel. This isn’t how I imagined our evening would go—the movie was supposed to be a way to unwind before I leave.
We continue walking to the car, the distance between us widening more than ever. This should have been a simple movie outing.
Simple. Outing!
Seated in the car, the tension grows thicker but I’m finally able to put my words together. “I never realized you were so bothered by how I talk about money,” I retort, angry. Angry and hurt. “What is it with you? You nag more than my own mom sometimes.”
His jaw clenches, and I can see the tension in his shoulders. “Nagging? Is that how you see it?”
“You’ve been doing a lot of it.”
A look of disbelief crosses his face. “And is this how you talk to your dad?”
“At least I’m close to my mom, that’s why I turned out so well and understanding.” I shoot back at him and realization dawns on me. My anger deflates, replaced by a heavy feeling of regret. “I didn’t mean to—”
He holds up a hand, cutting me off. “Maybe we both need some space to cool off. Let’s take some time to think things over. We’ll talk when we’re both in a better frame of mind.”
Take some time to think? Where’s the time? I leave soon! We need to resolve this issue ASAP! I don’t like that we’re fighting about trivial things when barely three days ago, we were talking about marriage and settling down. I want to protest, but as much as I hate to admit it, maybe he’s right. Maybe we both need a moment to step back and evaluate things.
“Fine,” I huff.
*****
Arriving his apartment, I begin packing for my flight that’s scheduled to leave for Dublin in three hours. Special walks into the room dropping my other sandal which I’d left in the living room and I mumble a ‘thanks’.
When he turns to leave the room, I can’t help myself, I blurt out, “So we won’t talk about what happened now that I’m here?”
“What’s the use? Would you listen?”
“What do you mean?”
“What do I mean?” He hisses. “You’re clearly your own boss. You don’t do anything I want you to do. You do whatever you want to.”
I freeze, my hands still clutching the trouser I was folding moments ago. Where’s all this coming from?
“I’ve been watching you. And everything is always about you, you, you. You’re so stubborn—I want to build my woman. Mold her to fit the life we plan. You now, just small exposure, you are turning indecent and immoral.”
I’m stubborn, indecent, and immoral?
The ground is slipping from beneath me as he tosses accusations like daggers, each word piercing my heart.
He continues, his voice gaining momentum as he lays out his grievances. “The other day, you were practically naked to meet my friends for the first time. With clothing you just bought oh. You knew it was my friends you were to meet, yet. Even though I stylishly told you when we were at the store, you didn’t listen.”