The Crosswalk
Zaynab was late again. I scanned the bar upon entering and picked a spot in a corner. A young man with a towel hanging from his shoulder approached with a swagger.
“What would you like to drink tonight?” He smiled in a suggestive way. There were waitresses milling around so I knew the man was up to nothing good.
I shook my head. “I'll order later. I'm waiting for a friend.” His smile slipped before he nodded and strode away.
I leaned into the chair as jazz music played smoothly in the background. A few people lounged in seats, cigar smoke swirling through the room lit with coloured lights.
“Hey, girl,” Zaynab drawled, grinning from ear to ear as she sat down. “Sorry I'm late. Work thing.”
I huffed. “When are you ever early.” She looked beautiful and a little tired, her sleek maroon trouser suit hugging her body with effortless elegance.
Part of me envied her life; the opportunities she had to go to college and become a business owner while I barely made it through high school.
One night, when we were hanging out at her family’s mansion for the holidays, I told her I wished I’d had as many open doors as her. She replied by saying she wished she had my freedom. I still couldn't get that conversation off my mind because I didn't understand.
She sighed deeply, loosing the collar of her blouse. “Anthony's family wants to move up the wedding.”
“What?” I asked, startled. “You both agreed to wait till the end of the year.” I wasn't ready to lose my best friend to this wealthy family so soon. She waved a waitress over and ordered scotch for us, sadness etched on her face.
I'd spent years wishing her brightly lit life was mine, not noticing the bars across it. “You don't want to marry him?”
She gave a dry laugh. “I like him, don't get me wrong but if I do this, it's for my parents not for me.”
The waitress returned with our drinks and Zaynab downed hers in one gulp. “You still wish to live my life? We can switch if you want,” she said, grinning, her head tilted to a side.
I chuckled and shook my head. “Don't be silly. We can't switch though I wish I can help you get out of this.”
We spoke for a while before calling it a night. My gaze lingered on the crosswalk outside, the faded white lines stretching from one end to the other, like a demarcation between the life people choose for you and the life you secretly ache for. Would Zaynab have the courage to cross to the other side before the light changes?
We hugged as I put her in a taxi. “Call me when you get home,” I whispered before closing the door.
As the taillights dimmed into the distance, I knew my friend and I would find a way to navigate our different worlds together, and somehow make them better.
I hope you enjoyed reading this short piece. It's inspired by the Freewrite #dailyprompt phrase "the crosswalk.
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