Lights

           The theater is dark and the movie ended. It was a good movie. My girlfriend's crying. I'm waiting for the lights to come back on and for her to stop crying. I'd been planning this for months. Not the crying, but the . .. nevermind. You'll see. Damn it. Why aren't the lights coming back on? See, she'd begged to see this movie for months. The way it is. Every time the commercial for this movie came on she'd smile and say she wants to see it with me. Every time and I'd smile and say, “We'll see”. See, we've been dating for five years. We met in college, clicked, talked, ate out, and bingo, romance. Not original, but true. Damn it. What's going on with these damn lights? The credits started rolling. You know: Actors, Special Effects, Camera People, Animation Special Effects, etc. Goddamn it. Maybe after the MPAA and IATSE, these idiots will turn on the goddamn lights. Erica's still crying. Turn on the lights already. 

           Then, I think about it. I think of all the movie scenes where I've seen it happen and it's usually in a dim area, unless I don't remember right, which I sometimes don't. But, I planned this out for months and it'd be better with the lights on. I don't want anyone but Erica, me, the projectionist, and the cleaning crew there. Sounds weird I admit, but she'll love it. I feel in my right pocket underneath my wallot and it's still there: a small, hard box that opens one way, typical, and I made them double check: it's real. I feel inside and it's still in there, waiting to come out. Goddamn it. Turn on the lights already people. .

           Then, I smell something; something weird, dangerous weird.  Goddamn it, turn on the lights. Erica goes from crying to light coughing. Coughing can be like laughing; when one person does it another soon picks up. Then, I see a white light flashing like at the old disco ball rooms. On, off, on, off, then we hear the fucking fire alarm and the emergency lights go on, so we walk out the door into the parking lot and there's my car: a 2013 Ford Fusion

           After five minutes, the fire trucks come and they go inside the movie theatre, but there's no fire. Smoke is everywhere, but there's no fire. The firemen/firewomen interview the staff and the fellow theater attendees. I feel in my pocket and everything's still there, but this isn't the right time. Want a good, romantic memory associated with the ring, not smoke and confusion. 

           Then, with a little gossip, everyone starts figuring out what the hell happened. See, as everyone knows, most movies use two of our senses: sight and hearing. We see the action and hear the words/music. There used to be silent films with subtitles, but the last silent film with subtitles was Laurel and Hardy's Dirty Work in 1933. So, with new technology, the theatre was hoping to add more senses than sight and hearing and to therefore make more money. So, they decided to invent Smellavision. This idea was first introduced in the Looney Tunes episode Old Gray Hare in 1944. But, with advanced technology, they were able to make real scents to accompany the scenes and there was a scene in this movie where there was a fire and the Smellavision made the scent of smoke, which was accurate. Then, someone pulled the fire alarm. The theatre was thinking about adding taste and touch also, but this was a bump in the road.  The ring's still in my pocket. 

           The fire department had a long lecture with the theatre managers, so I decided to take Erica to a restaurant, because maybe a well lit restaurant would be more persuasive than a burning building. So, I decide to ask Erica what kind of food she's in the mood for and she tells me a Chinese Buffet. I tell her I know a place where they have delicious sushi and cocktail shrimp. We spend fifteen minutes driving in the car talking about the movie. Damn it. Maybe I should have asked her there. Damn it. We get to the buffet and I think about asking her in the car, but it's starting to get dark outside and I always envisioned it happening in the light. Damn it. 

           So we go inside and all the buffet is covered in aluminum foil. So, I ask if they're open and what the hell's going on. The manager is polite and says the restaurant is open, but the health department came recently and said they had to spray the restaurant for bugs or the health department would shut this place down. So, we could eat, if we paid, but they'd have to do cleaning. I ask Erica what she'd prefer and she says it won't bother her. If she only know what was in my pocket, aluminum foil and bug spray would bother her. This doesn't seem like a good memory for engagement either, but we enjoy our meals and the waitress says we can have a free dessert and I ask, “Why? Why are you giving us this free dessert?” and she says “Because we're spraying tomorrow. I feel in my pocket. 

           Then, my cell phone rings and of all the people it could be, it's my mother. I don't want to talk to Mom, but I had talked to my Mom before this and told her my plans.

           “Well, what did she say?” Mom asked.

           “I haven't gotten the chance yet. Weird night. Can I call you back later?”

           “Why and why not? Where are you? What you waiting for?”

           I hang up and turn off my cell phone.

           “Who was that?” Erica asks.

           “My mom. I don't want to talk about it. Is there any dessert place around here you like?”

           Erica tells me she's full from the buffet (I am too) and suggests we just call it a night. I feel the box in my pocket. Now still doesn't feel like the right time, so I drive her home. I was hoping that in this point in our relationship we'd be living together, but it didn't work out that way. Not sure why. I feel in my pocket again. 

           I drive her home. She has her own studio apartment. I ask if I can come in to chat and she says that'd be ok. I walk up the stairs, she checks her mail, and we enter her apartment. She asks if I'd like a drink and she gets me the usual: a sex on the beach. Then, we sit there and chat about the evening with it's oddities and she laughs: “It's almost like God was giving us a warning against something. Weird.” I feel in my pocket.

           “They always say opposites attract though, so maybe something good could still happen tonight.”

           “Well, we're talking, that's good, but I'm tired and don't feel like sex tonight. I'm sorry, Babe.”

           “That's not what I'm asking for,” I interrupt.

           She looks like a dog when you take it's food away: confused and maybe hurt, like I don't want to have sex.

           Then, I look at the lighting and the lights are on and it feels good. So, I get on one knee, take the ring out of my pocket, and ask her.

The end.