Everything Everywhere All At Once
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“In another life, I would have really liked just doing laundry and taxes with you.” It was this scene between Waymond and Evelyn in some alleyway lit in the same way as In the Mood For Love (2000).
From the get go, we know that Waymond and Evelyn’s relationship is strained–Waymond asks for a divorce because he doesn’t feel wanted and Evelyn resents Waymond’s niceness.
But with this line, Waymond confesses that he loves her in every universe.
It made me wonder about all the people I care about in my life. If I hadn’t lazily submitted a college application, if I hadn’t woken up so early that one day, if I hadn’t taken the scenic route rather than the quicker one, if I hadn’t said yes or no–if, if and more ifs–then I wouldn’t have met any of them. I thought about all the possible universes: one where I could just be doing my weekend laundry for the umpteenth time, one where it could be all glitz and glam like this scene with Waymond and Evelyn living as celebrities.
Could I say that no matter what universe we were in and how mundane our lives could be, I’d still like to fold a shirt or two with them? I guess it made me emotional hearing that line from Waymond because it was the ultimate confession–that no matter the circumstances, it was Evelyn who he loved and still does love in that mundane laundry universe we see. So I thought a little more about all the people I’ve met in my life and all the circumstances that have led me to where and who I am now.
I still sometimes tie my scarf in a French knot because a friend I no longer talk to taught me during my first East Coast blizzard. I fold my towels lengthwise without thinking now because a roommate scolded me one night. When I try the NYT Sunday crossword on plane rides, I think about my classmate who offered to do it with me for the first time. A song in a genre I’ve never really listened to sits in my Spotify Like list because my neighbor kept it on repeat until it grew on me.
So when Waymond says that in another life, he wouldn’t mind doing laundry, I thought of all the silly, boring, seemingly inconsequential things that I’ve done in my life with the people I’ve loved. I wondered if I cried because I was grieving for all the other universes where we’ve never met–for the what ifs and the what-almost-could-have-beens. Would I still have wanted to walk 30 minutes in snow-soaked shoes with that friend? Would I still have wanted to sob my heart out on that bench when someone told me they’ve had enough? Or would I still have wanted to wash dishes together with my partner on the boringest birthday ever?
I don’t know about you, but I would do it all over again in a heartbeat.