People Watching

I'm a people watcher and I'm sure you are too. The fact is, I haven't met anyone yet who doesn't enjoy sitting outside a cafe, making a cup of coffee last forever and watching the world go by. Armed with an open book and of course a smartphone as company, it gives me more than a good excuse to casually peer around and watch others go about their busy days. 
Surely I'm not the only one who wonders things like: Where is she going? What's on her mind? Why did he just check his watch? Is he late for a date?

My guesses may fall short of the mark, I'll never know, but it doesn't matter.
The characters I see; I like to build elaborate life stories around them. I've lost count of the numbers of spies I've created, or professional criminals and hitmen, or mistresses of wealthy unfaithful businessmen. They're all out there.

As I write this a woman marches past on the street. Pointed heels are clip-clopping off the pavement as she goes. With bronzed, just come back from holiday skin, she is very well dressed and carrying two large paper carrier bags from a famous designer store. She is walking confidently, but avoiding people's eye contact just the same. She's very much in her own private world.

The way she is dressed, a raincoat, Burberry no doubt and her Mulberry handbag, hanging from her left arm; plus the two shopping bags, she obviously has money to spend and more to spare. Her confidence and her upright posture speaks volumes. 'Don't mess with me', it shouts. 'I know what I want and I'm going to take it'.

I like to think she is deliberately single; the owner of her own success, independent of anyone else. A director of a multi-million pound international company is she. There are no children in her life of course. She's far too busy for that sort of thing, next year maybe, or the year after that, possibly; but probably never. I know her type well.

She is very much in the minority. The world is changing, but way too slowly. Like it or not it's still a man's world and there are too few people like her bucking the system.

 

The woman suddenly pauses and looks my way, like she knows I'm watching her. I freeze. She can't possibly know. I'm always so discreet.

My head is tilted downwards. I'm wearing shades with dark lenses too, but just in case quickly my eyes fall away from her and into the book. There's simply no way she could possibly think I was spying.

'Hi,' she calls out loudly.

It's not just me who peers up, others in the cafe do the same. Looking my way still, it's unclear if she's addressing me or not. I pull a half smile just in case.

Do I know her? I really doubt it. My friends barely have two pennies to share amongst themselves. Just about all of them are male, and they are most likely in the nearest bookies losing their shirts.  

Facing my direction, she begins heading this way. Her smile broadens. Ignoring her, looking back down into my book, doesn't halt her progress. A mild panic sets in. Thinking quickly, I come up with a back story if she asks anything.

'Nice shoes,' I'm going to say. Yes that will do it. I was simply admiring her cherry coloured stilettos; a harmless observation, nothing more.

Behind me, suddenly there is movement. Chair legs screech on the stone floor away from a table.

'Hello darling', says another woman's voice. Then a child's voice pipes up as well. 'Hello mummy' it says. A small girl, about 6 or 7, with black hair in long locks appears by my right shoulder and hops towards the approaching woman. They embrace and mutter something out of earshot.

The little girl takes one of the bags and peers in, as she leads her mother back to the table. 'Anything for me, Mummy?' she asks lightly.

They are both past me now, but I lean back in my seat to allow my eyes to follow them. The other woman is of similar age, just as well dressed and has light coloured black skin.

Letting go of the little girl, putting down the other shopping bag, the two woman hug warmly, tightly. Pulling away a little, they kiss too, somewhat intimately. They are both wearing wedding rings, looking like silver but most probably platinum, they match. Pulling away completely, all three sit down down.

After a couple of seconds the fair-haired woman speaks again. 'Well?' she asks nervously, expectantly. A brief pause happens. Curiosity gets the better of me, I lean in to listen. 

'Yes, it's true', is the other woman's reply. 'I AM pregnant. We're going to have another baby.'

Of all the life stories I've created, I've never come up with one such as that. 
 

Namaste.