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While He Waited
On Time
I leaned against the wall and, tilting my head back slightly, let out a breath of grey smoke. I held my jacket in one hand, longing to leave it on the ground. The nights had been getting hotter as July turned into August, and I could feel the sweat forming at the back of my neck. The sun was still bright, but it was edging closer to the west, dimming the sky a little. I wished that it were eight o’clock already.
Cars drove by, speeding from around the corner regularly and a police siren was audible in the distance. The sound of a boom box echoing off the walls of an alley made me slightly agitated. The music kids listened to.
She was wearing her dancing shoes. Bright red heels, open-toed with two straps that held her feet in; they made her feel sexy and she loved that. Her dress matched. It had taken forever to find the right colour, but the effort was worth the outcome.
Her hair was pulled back because she knew it would be hot, especially once they reached the club. Her ears wore large silver hoops that delighted her when she turned her head from one side to the other and she could feel them tap the sides of her neck.
She bobbed her head slightly in time with the beat of a song that had been stuck in her head all day. It was a good song and she hoped he would hurry up; she wanted to dance.
I wondered if she was going to stand me up. I checked my watch. She had been gorgeous. A great body, smile, eyes, but she had promised to show; eight o’clock sharp. It was five till now, but I knew women. They liked to be late; to keep me waiting as if I were just another thing on their list of things to do and they had decided that they could fit me in between their crucial hair appointments and vital shopping dates with their friends. In some ways, I hated women. I thought they were manipulative, seductive, and only after me for a game. But I gave in to my yearnings every time one of them caught my eye. It was like a curse.
A watch really didn’t go with her outfit, but she wondered if she was early or if she had missed him. The bus to McIver Street was only ten minutes long from her apartment, but maybe she had taken the late bus by accident. If only she had remembered her cell phone. But it was really too hot to be carrying anything besides the tiny handbag that held no more than a tube of lipstick and a few breath mints, and the twenty that was clipped to her underwear.
Across the street, the light in one of the top windows in the warehouse was still on. The building was old and a few panes of glass were missing; I wondered who would be up there at this time of the night; who could bear to be on the top floor with the heat rising. I had an undeniable urge to ditch the girl I was waiting for and find the nearest swimming pool. But the thought of walking anywhere farther exhausted me. Besides, maybe this girl would be different from the others.
She took out the black tube of lipstick and, careful not to smudge, applied another coat to her already tart up lips. She was slightly nervous, despite her best efforts to seem nonchalant. She hated to be early, and prayed that she wasn’t late. He had been a nice guy; a guy with class. She wanted this to go well, to go somewhere eventually. But if she had stood him up…no that couldn’t be. She remembered seeing the red numbers on the clock on her way, just as she was reaching for her bag.
She touched her hair to make sure it was in place. She was always worried about what she couldn’t see. But it was smooth, the ringlets falling nicely at the back. She smiled with small relief.
I wished that I had remembered to leave my jacket at home. It hadn’t looked so warm when I looked out the window, and I hadn’t felt like going all the way back up to my apartment once I reached the street. I hadn’t wanted to be late.
I drew in the last smoke of my cigarette and dropped it to the ground. I dug my toe into it to put out the light just as a set of footsteps caused me to look up.
The man was my age, mid-thirties, average height; black hair hanging in his contrastingly blue eyes. He looked like an upmarket guy; a guy who might drive a BMW and have an apartment on the upper side of town. I watched as the man went past me, leaving a trail of cologne fresh in my nostrils.
She looked over at him as he rounded the corner. He looked better than she remembered and she was thankful again for the fate that caused them to meet.
“Hi. Ready to go?” he asked her, offering his arm.
She smiled and sighed, “Yeah.”
A minute later, the man came back around the corner with a gorgeous brunette on his arm. Well, at least some women knew how to be on time.
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Words are food. I'm a glutton.
- Alexa
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