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We had been bickering all night long, about the usual bicker-inducing topics: I teased too much, too mercilessly. He was a bad driver. I smoked too much. He always left the towels on the floor. Somehow we had become this old married couple that too often took each other for granted and forgot the things that we loved about the other. It was getting on to 9 pm and we still hadn't eaten yet. We were both tired and grumpy and didn't feel like cooking. So we got in the car and drove to the nearest Chinese restaurant. We ate our meal in silence, barely looking at each other. We made some small, innocuous talk over tea. The bill came with our fortune cookies. I never ate the cookie but I always cracked it open to reveal my fortune. It was a small amusement and welcomed on this somewhat glum occasion. Another bit of fodder for the bickering sessions. I called him cheap, he called me wasteful. I pulled out the rather unnaturally-colored, somewhat orange cookie and crushed it in my hand. "Tell those you love that you do." I flipped the rectangular piece of waxy paper over to find a series of numbers printed in red. He began to pick up the pieces of my cookie and dipped them in his tea. He looked at me with curiosity, wondering about my fortune. I offer the paper for him to take, and as he grabs it i say, "I love you." This illicits a little smile that widens upon reading the strip of paper. I cock my head to the side and raise my eyebrows, indicating a need for reciprocity on his part. Instead he hands me his fortune which reads, "Tell someone sincerely that you are sorry." As I got to "sorry," he leans over and says in a low voice, "I'm sorry, hon." I can't supress a smile any longer. Then a giggle bursts forth until we're both laughing at the sillyness and irony of the whole situation and our fingers lace and we take our fortunes home to remind us of the important things. Copyright 5/99 Jennifer Chung. All rights reserved. You will read more about fortune cookies. |