Fifteen Lanes - S.J. Laidlaw Page 0,86

than counters with no place to sit. This one looked like a proper restaurant though it was open to the air, with just a few large overhead fans for cooling.

I was a few minutes late and disappointed that Noor wasn’t already there. There wasn’t a single woman in the place. I sat down at a table as close as I could get to the door, though there were only eight tightly packed tables and most were occupied. I’d been sitting about fifteen minutes when I noticed the server behind the counter staring at me. It was one of those places where you have to go up to the counter to order. He must have been wondering what I was waiting for. I got out my phone.

already at restaurant. U far? I texted.

I waited for an answer. A group of men came in and took the last empty table. I could feel the counter guy’s eyes on me, though I was careful not to look his way. Men from other tables were gawping at me as well. I suddenly felt exposed in my flimsy Indian frock. I should have just worn jeans. My face burned with embarrassment. I looked at my phone again. Noor was almost thirty minutes late. I’d never felt so pathetic.

restaurant crowded. u here soon? I typed.

I waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Another fifteen minutes passed.

Nothing.

So far this was the worst birthday ever. Maybe I should have gone to her house but I didn’t have the courage to walk through Kamathipura alone at night. Surely if she’d had to cancel she’d have let me know. I couldn’t continue to sit there if I didn’t get food. The counter clerk was clearly talking about me with one of his servers, gesturing angrily. I flushed with embarrassment. They were going to throw me out any minute. I got up and went to the counter to order a falafel and water, though I really only wanted the water. The heat, combined with my anxiety, was making me queasy.

I couldn’t bear the thought of going home and giving up on this night, though it was obvious Noor wasn’t coming. I’d had such stupidly high hopes, not only for my birthday but for our friendship. I took my food back to the table and proceeded to consume it as slowly as possible. It was close to eight, two hours after we were meant to meet, when I sent one final text.

can only wait a few more minutes. hope u ok

The last statement was both true and not. I was genuinely worried about Noor. She lived a precarious life. Maybe something bad had happened to her. At the same time, it seemed too coincidental that she’d have a serious problem the very same night we’d agreed to meet. A far more likely explanation was that she’d decided she didn’t want to have dinner with me. On reflection, she hadn’t seemed that keen. I was the loser trying to force my friendship on her. Why should she want to be my friend? No one else did.

So, on my sixteenth birthday, I sat alone in a run-down restaurant, surrounded by men openly ogling me, wishing I could disappear.

Noor didn’t like me.

I felt foolish that I’d expected anything more and betrayed because I really did like her and Shami and Aamaal. What was so wrong with me? My eyes stung with unshed tears. I only wanted to be her friend. Was that too much to ask? I felt like screaming or hurling my half-eaten falafel across the room.

I didn’t.

I had a better way to release tension.

The washroom sign was to the right. I picked up my bag and headed over. I was grateful to find the door unlocked, but disappointed, when I stepped inside, to discover it filthy and foul-smelling. I took the knife from my bag. Fortunately, I was wearing a dress—easier access. I hiked it up, gingerly leaned against the wall and bent my leg, bringing my canvas within reach. The first letter was an obvious choice.

T

It couldn’t be anything else. My poem was almost complete.

I thought long and hard about the next letter. I wanted to write traitor, an indictment of Noor. But this was my epitaph, not hers. It needed to describe me, and when I realized that, I came to another realization. The word was obvious, as obvious as what I needed to do next. I’d known all along it would come to this. Even the location felt somehow right. My parents wouldn’t find me.