Friday’s Story #4
By: Keith
We have a crosswalk down the street from us that takes too long. The boys and I always wait for the signal.
Waiting
By Keith Wilcox
Nick stood at the cross walk staring at the traffic light; his mother warned him to never cross the street without a signal. This light, on this day, was taking an awfully long time. It was summer, and it was hot, and Nick was sweaty. He wanted to cross the street. But, there he stood, waiting for the stupid light. Had it been just a minute? Or had it been 5? Nick thought he must look foolish to the people passing by in cars, standing there with a goofy look on his face, waiting for a light that may never change. The traffic light had already gone through two cycles, forcing him to stand in front of stopped cars, anxiously looking at an unrestricted crosswalk. But, he did not cross. He waited like he was told to wait even though he knew he looked like a doofus. He was also sure that the people in the cars thought there must be something wrong with him because they had made furtive looks left and right while they waited for their own green lights, like they weren’t sure if they were just imagining the street being clear to cross or if the boy on the sidewalk was daydreaming through a walk signal. They looked at him, then at the traffic situation and then back to him. Nick didn’t budge.
Then, before the third traffic light change, “Click”, it changed. And Nick started across the road. “I guess that wasn’t too bad.” He wondered who was responsible for setting the timing mechanisms on the signals anyway. Somebody with a pretty good sense of humor. They probably had a camera set up someplace to spy on people who lost patience and crossed without permission. Heck, his mother was probably hiding in the bushes waiting for him to fail. She’d come springing out with a big “Ah HA!”, and drag him home, scolding him all the way. Probably not. The crosswalk had a fresh coat of paint. That must have something to do with the signal malfunction. “Those idiots messed with the lights when they painted the lines.” Blaming the city work crews was always a safe bet, and it made him feel a little better, like he wasn’t to blame for pressing the button wrong – not that he knew how he could have pressed the button wrong anyway. Nick glanced left and right as he crossed the median – “Cool,” he said, and he continued. He had been looking at the fresh stripes in the road, but when he looked up the red man was blinking at him. He ran the rest of the way. “How do old people make it in time?” Stupid city.
Nick made it across the road and, in a subconscious sign of victory, he turned his head to look behind him. Cars were starting to drive over the new white lines. It was like in the movies when a giant metal door would slowly creep shut, the heroes making their dash to freedom. The protagonists would squeeze under, or through it, at the last instant, breath easy on the other side, and stand for a moment listening to the frantic orders of their alien pursuers on the other side. Who knows how long the light had taken to switch, and it had only been a 20 yard walk across. Well, it didn’t matter because Nick felt like he had accomplished something even considering it wasn’t a heroic movie rescue, and his only reward was being one street’s width closer to the ice cream shop. He was supposed to meet Brad at around 2. Onward.
The shopping plaza was a series of 10 or so shops in a single long building that was bent in the middle like an “L”. They could have made it into a square by putting another “L” building upside down and backwards facing it. “Nobody would be able to see the front of the shops from the street.” thought Nick. The Ice cream shop was on the opposite leg of the building from where he stood. The Pharmacy and the coffee shop where next to each other. Then came a tax preparation place, the martial arts dojo, a pool and spa supply store, a dollar store, the Chinese take-out restaurant, a bum asking for change, a boot repair shop. Then he came to the ice cream place. It was 2:15 according to the clock above the ice cream counter. Nick ordered a double scoop of mint chocolate chip in a cone. He paid and went back outside to sit and wait on the curb. The sun beat down on him and the ice cream was dripping on the pavement. Nick ate faster. Every few licks he sucked some dripping liquid out of the hole at the pointy end of the cone. He finished before too much of it was wasted to the parking lot.
Brad didn’t show up. Nick sat, sweaty but refreshed until 2:30. Then he stood up and started on the return trip home. He wasn’t sure if he was going to wait for the light again. Maybe this time he would risk being caught by the city or his mother jumping out of the bushes. Or maybe he’d wait for the walk signal to let him pass. He’d see if he could time it just right so that his foot would strike the opposite curb the moment the read man stopped blinking. Those aliens would be really pissed if he just barely escaped like that!
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