TRAVERSE

THE WRITER
Anis had untied the scarf to have it cover her hair and was greeting the
man. She had almost closed the door after them when Ali looked back.
“Hey!” He put the pieces of the drawing in her palm and said, “Gimme
your cell. Mine’s dead.”
Anis was staring down at her palm. “I’m expecting a phone call,” she
said, raising her head.
Ali pushed through the door, went to the small tea table next to the
sofa, and picked up her cell. Anis stared at his dirty footprints that now
stained the floor.
* * *
After they had left the bank, Esi and Ali stopped in front of a juice
shop. Ali ordered two glasses of cantaloupe juice and looked out at the
street. Men and women formed two separate lines at the bus stop. An old
man was buying his tickets from the small booth next to the stop. His
hair was white and there was a newspaper tucked under his left arm. A
tall, young woman with a swarthy face, in a dark blue manteau and
headscarf stood behind the old man. She bought a ticket and walked over
to a tree across from the juice shop. She looked around, and then leaned
against a tree, pushing back the sole of one foot and the back of her head
against the trunk. Her book bag was clutched to her chest under her
folded arms. She closed her eyes.
“Here you are.” Esi gave Ali the glass of juice and followed his gaze
towards the girl. “No eye candy.”
Ali took the glass, continued looking at the girl.
“Want me to invite her here?” Esi asked.
“Nah.” Ali took a sip.
“Let’s have some fun.”
“I don’t feel like it.”
TRAVERSE 81