When The Time Comes

chapter 16; Lib

Omar strides into the lobby, spotting me on the couch with room temperature lemonade from the welcome desk. I have a hoodie on which I had hoped would provide more cover than this.

"Hey," he stops, glancing at the other guests sitting around the flatscreen mounted on the brick wall. Not that anyone's watching the game anyway.

I pluck out my earphones, "Hey."

There are no spare seats so he's awkwardly positioned by the console, blocking everyone's route out of this lobby. He rubs his hands for warmth before pushing them into his pockets.

"Coming from somewhere?" I ask, my eyes downcast on the earphone case in my hands.

"Took a walk around the neighborhood," he replies. "What about you?"

"Just having some free lemonade," I hold the cup up for him to see. "There's more at the welcome desk, if you want some."

"I'm good, don't really like lemonade."

I blow air out my nose. I don't necessarily like lemonade either but it was there, free to take. So I figured, why not?

"Listening to anything good?" he asks, with a casual nod to the black box in my hand.

"You're asking me what I'm listening to?"

"Yeah. Unless it's some weird obscure shit," he answers. "Then you don't have to tell me."

I hold up my screen for him to read the Spotify song himself. He lowers his head to read it and then nods, "Huh, the midnight. I've never heard of them."

"They might be too obscure for you."

"Listen, they're serving dinner upstairs in the restaurant. I'm going to eat before we leave tonight, do you wanna join?" Omar asks, giving room for one of the guests to walk out.

I hesitate, glancing at the ugly clock by the entrance. It's still early but I don't think we'll get the chance to get anything after midnight.

"Sure, I'll have a look at their menu," I say, unfolding my legs to stand up.

   The restaurant looks nothing like what the rest of the hotel looks like downstairs. With dark ebony tables and rounded red velvet sofas, it's momentarily distracting.

By the hallway, there's a black board with their specials written in chalk. I read it before we walk in and choose a table. We sit opposite each other and while we wait for our food, I look around the room. At a table, not far from us, is a woman with an afro and nose piercing, accompanied by three small children.

  Then at the community table, sits a middle aged man alone with bulky black glasses that make his eyes look small and his grey eyebrows crooked. I tear my eyes away from him just as he directs his sullen glare towards me. I don't blame him, I'm the one who was caught staring.

"So," Omar says, arms crossed over his stomach. "Let me guess."

"What?" I straighten up.

"Single child, little or no family maybe, and working through college?" he concludes.

"Playing a guessing game?"

"Well, I don't know you Liberty so it's only fair I get to guess at this stage."

I'm quiet for a moment, pulling my thoughts together. Meanwhile, from the other table, I can hear the children's conversation word to word.

   "I am a single child but  I have a family. I have my mom."

"Hmm, and work?"

"I work but it doesn't look like I'll be going to college any time soon," I tell him, crossing my arms. "I guess I saved myself a shit ton of money."