Red Flags

The first red flag was Colton showing up a hour late for our date. I’d already given up on him when the door bell’s ring echoed through my apartment. I answered in my PJs. 

“You’re late,” I said, raising my hand to blocking out the street light with my glass of red wine. He seared me with a ridiculous look. 

“You can come in,” I offered, I was raised to be polite and it was cold out, the first of the evening’s flurries were slowly tumbling from the grey clouds, so I let him in and changed clothes and let him take me on our date.

The second red flag was his insistence on going to a movie for our first date. I don’t like movies on dates. Movies are meant for when relationships are in the comfortable stage, when we know what each other likes and are willing to shell out $100 for tickets and popcorn to sit in the dark looking at a screen. We’re spending two or even two-and-a-half-hours sitting in the dark not talking, not getting to know each other. How can I get to know someone at a movie? But, he insisted. 

The third red flag, and what ended up being the real breaker, was how he reacted when the movie projector broke. The movie, some stupid action flick I never would’ve chosen, broke just when it was finally getting interesting, or at least tolerable. The hero reveals his powers, saves the cute girl, and then the screen stuttered and went dark. 

Colton and I looked at each other and at the other people in the theater. We looked at the little projector window in the back. There was no movement, no light in that little window. We sat motionless in the dark, waiting for something to happen.

After 10 minutes, a skinny man that looked close to my age and wearing an AMC Movie shirt walked to the front aisle. “We’re working on it,” he said, in a flat tone. “Sorry for the interruption, should be a few minutes, thanks for your patience.” He turned and left.

That was fine. Really, I can wait a few minutes while they get things fix and sorted. But Colton went nuts. He started griping, softly, just to me. “What kind of place are they running here? How hard is it to press play?” He exclaimed. 

His voice got louder so the people around us could here. Then, louder, so the entire theater could hear. People were turning around looking at us. “I could run this place in my sleep! I want my money back!” He ran his fingers through his blonde hair, which was longer than I preferred. 

I hid my reddening face behind my hand and shifted closer to the other side of my giant maroon-red reclining chair. This was so embarrassing. I took out my phone and checked for messages. 

“What are you doing? Put that away? No phone during the show.” He said. His lower lip pouted out. 

I looked at him incredulously. “The movie is not even playing! I can look at my phone!”

He folded his arms and rolled his eyes. What a douche this guy was. I was never letting Rhonda set me up again. I let my fingers drag over her name in my Messages App. She’d been so excited to set me up with her nephew. Rhonda and I worked together at the water utility, she as a secretary and me as an engineer. From the first day I’d stepped into the office, overdressed in my

Ann Taylor cardigan set, she’d been trying to marry me off. She was like an Indian auntie but lived on barbecue ribs and was missing several teeth. I loved her. I did not like her nephew.

This was obviously going to take a while and I needed to get away from Colton, so I decided to get some popcorn. I meandered the recliner back down and scooted out of the chair. His hand grabbed my arm. 

“Where are you going?” he demanded. 

“Bathroom,” I said. It was partly true. I suddenly felt the urge to pee and maybe I’d just happens to get popcorn on the way back. We’d arrived late after scarfing down a slice of pepperoni at the corner pizzeria and he insisted on watching the previews. Who watched previews? I should’ve known then, but I was raised to be polite, so I followed along dutifully past the aromatic buttery popcorn and plastic candy smell, and into the theater where we found our seats. 

Besides, who was he to tell me I couldn’t get up? Being polite was getting tiresome. 

The theater lobby was empty except for a couple of employees huddles together in front of a desk and a bored teenage girl with braces behind the concession stand. It was an older theater that had undergone a recent facelift to try to win back the pre-Covid audience. 

I went to the bathroom, which had also been recently upgraded. The pale square tiles I remembered from my childhood movie outings with my mom had been replaced with large, rectangular tiles textured to look like waves. The ancient dryers with circular metal knobs that never worked were replaced by the 30-second dryers that made my skin flap around like a sail. I did my business, fluffed my hair in the mirror, and went back to the lobby for my popcorn. I smiled at the bored teenager when I handed her my credit card. She didn’t make eye contact with me. 

The screen was still dark when I made my way back to my seat. Colton and the people in the seats in front to us were screeching at each other. The man, a portly fellow with a balding head and wearing a NFL sweatshirt, sent spit from his mouth onto the back of his chair. The woman beside him, who I assumed was his wife because she oddly resembled him except with more hair and a flowered blouse, was red-faced with rage. 

I took a large handful of popcorn and popped it in my mouth, so I couldn’t hear the words they spewed. Colton was pointing his finger at the man who waved his phone in the air. The people around us were wide-eyed. 

“What is wrong with you, son?” The man shouted. “We’re trying to have a good evening here.”

I slid into the recliner and pushed the button so my feet were in the air. I grabbed another handful of salty popcorn and wished I’d gotten a soda. Why didn’t I get a drink? I sighed, nestled my popcorn on the side of the chair, and went back down the steps, down the long faintly-lit hallway, and back into the empty lobby where I bought a drink from the bored teenager. She didn’t make eye contact this time either. 

While I was filling up my cup at the drink machine, I heard shouting behind me. I took my time filling the soda, waiting for the foam to dissipate, filling it a little more, waiting again, then putting the lid on and inserting a straw. All this time, I ignored the shouting behind me. Finally, I turned, took a sip out of my drink, and saw my date being dragged out of the movie theater. 

He turned and saw me, and shouted, “They’re criminals, I want my money back.” This made me laugh, because I was the one who bought the tickets. 

This time, the movie was playing when I returned to me seat. I looked at no one as I sat in the recliner with my popcorn and soda and watched the rest of the movie in divine silence.