Saltriver Station

Nwabi stares out the window for a long while, right until we pull into Saltriver Station. A bunch of guys, who have been hanging out on the platform, push onto the train. They are wearing hoodies and oversized, low hung jeans. The way they stare at the passengers makes me nervous. You can feel the tension in the air. The other commuters look out of the window. Nobody wants to make eye contact with these guys. Then one of them whistles. He is staring at Nwabi. As she looks up he grabs his crotch and says, ‘Hey sweetie, I am sure you want some of this.” Nwabi quickly looks away, out of the window. But they are not going to give up. The other commuters start muttering.

Another one of the guys grins at Nwabi and says, “Hey girlie, come over here and let us show you a good time. Why you want to ride with the loser?”

I want to stand up and punch him. I want to do it for Nwabi. But I won’t stand a chance against five of them. Nwabi just looks out the window and slips her cellphone into her bag in case things get worse.

“Hey, I’m talking to you,” the first guy says. They are pushing closer to us now.

“Listen…” I face the guy.

“What?” He says grabbing my collar. “You tuning me now…”

The train is slowing down. A guard is pushing his way through the crowd. It doesn’t stop the guys saying, “She’s hot, such a cutie, she needs a real man to show her a good time.” I know they are trying to provoke me into a fight. But Nwabisa flashes me a look that says: Stay out of it. I can handle it.

As the doors are pulled open by the commuters on the platform the thugs push out onto the platform. They give me the finger as they leer back in through the window. One of them sticks his tongue out and blows kisses at Nwabi. It’s like the whole carriage can breathe again when they are gone.

But I feel like the date is one big disaster. “So far, so bad,” I think. I have to do something to turn it around fast. So I get the concert tickets from my backpack and hold them out to Nwabi. She takes the tickets and read the stubs.

Then she shoots me the biggest smile ever and says, “Wow! This is unbelievable. Thank you. This is going to be awesome!” She holds the tickets with an even firmer grip and then she leans forward and kisses me on the cheek and gives me a hug. “Zahara is one of my favourite singers. I really wanted to see her perform live. This is just amazing, Khaya, and so special. Thank you”.

“I should be the one thanking you for coming with me. I’ve been acting like a complete idiot. I don’t know what I was thinking. In fact, I wasn’t thinking. I look forward to us having a wonderful afternoon together.” As I go on and on she waves her hand like none of that sucker stuff matters now.

“How did you manage to get tickets for this concert? And how did you know that I would like it?”

I shrug, but a big grin spreads from ear to ear across my face. For a few moments we are in a world of our own as we sit there together. It’s like when we were dancing together at Ridwaan’s party. Then the noise from singing commuters breaks our moment. And we are back in the present.

Tell us what you think: Do you think Khaya handled the situation well? What do you think would have happened if he had tried to fight the guys?