It is always so hot on Tuesdays. The sun always scorches as though it is in a pageantry in which it must emerge winner. This Tuesday is the same as every other one. This is why I do not particularly pay attention to your black Camry when you park and keep saying “Excuse me”. Maybe this one will give me a ride. You smile at me as you wind your windows down. “Would you like a lift?”. Do you even know where I am going to? Hope you aren’t one of those kidnappers that hope to get a ransom paid? “No, I’m not”. I can’t believe I said that out.
I hop into your car and you tell me your name. Christian. In my head, I am roaring with laughter and constantly fight the urge to say “What happened to Muslim and Buddhist”? “I’m a doctor, you know”, you say while you stroke your beards with your fingers. I know for certain that you are not a doctor but I play along. “I’m a certified Emotional Health Instructor”, I reply while staring at your light brown eyes. Your shirt is emerald blue and written in bold on it “I’M THE LAST ONE STANDING”. How cliché. Don’t sit down.
“What does that even mean?”, you ask while your radio plays Trobul by WurlD. Your car has the faint smell of cigarettes and cassettes arranged just on the dashboard. In the 21st century? “It means I advice people on how to manage their emotional health”, I reply in hope that you now start the car. “People pay for that?”, you ask looking rather shocked. “Yes Dr. Christian, people pay for gym instructors as well. Don’t you think the heart is important”, I sound rather impatient and immediately feel bad for my tone.
After you ask for where I’m going, the ride is quiet up until when you drop me off. Something about how I have acted does not sit well with me but I decide not to apologize. While you park your car in front of my grandmother’s house, you stare at me and say “I’d love to see you again before the sun sets”. “Shakespeare ma pa mi”, I reply you and chuckle as I strut away from the car and into my grandmother’s house.
My grandmother watches me as I chuckle like a mad woman. She does not understand that I have just met the Shakespeare of my generation. “Describe him” she says. I talk about your eyes and your well-trimmed beard and how you occasionally say “you know” at the end of every sentence. He’s a mad man, I say and laugh once more. Christian the Doctor becomes an in-house joke for the rest of the evening.
At 5pm, I’m running errands for my grandmother around the small area of Ashi when I see a car that looks just like yours parked two houses from my grandmother’s. Haaa Sunset, I think to myself as I walk to the car to confirm if it is you. I open the door of your car and sit and say “Are you stalking me Shakespeare?”. You start the car and begin to drive off while staring at me. Your eyes have lost the brown color and are so dark now. You say “I am one of those kidnappers that hope to get a ransom paid”, as you speed off.