across the street
by Tulip Chowdhury
It was a sparkling summer day in Amherst, Massachusetts. I was in the center of town, having missed the PVTA bus home, and waited at the bus stop for the next one. Drained after a long day at work, growing impatient, I watched customers enter or exit the restaurant across the street. It was a Chinese food place, and I knew their hot and sour soup was excellent.
I watched people enter and exit the eating place, each carrying different energy. There was a trace of urgency in those going inside. On the other hand, when people came out, they sent happier vibes, presumably feeling better after eating something. Thinking of food and envisioning a bowl of hot soup inside the restaurant, hunger took over.
Picking up my backpack, I crossed the street and entered the restaurant. Tables with red covers were placed along the wide glass window, which was quite clear. The lantern-like lights hanging over the tables and chairs made the dining space inviting. The brightness of the place cheered me up, and I ordered my soup when a waitress came over—the woman was so light in movement that she made me think of butterflies.
Checking the time to ensure I wouldn’t miss the next bus due in an hour, I quietly observed the people and the servers moving around them. A woman, perhaps around her thirties, sat at a table for two; her red and black polka dress caught my attention, for polkas were my all-time favorite. While I waited for my order to arrive, I found myself observing the woman across from me. She was dressed elegantly, and while her face reflected a gentleness, there was a firmness in her movements as she flipped through a copy of the menu. I wondered what she was ordering; I could see a plate of wanton and a glass of water with ice resting in front of her. Apparently, she was not eating anything.
Perhaps waiting for someone? I turned my eyes away as my thoughts ran. I should not be staring.
Soon, the waitress was back with my orders and placed them in front of me. The woman in the red and polka dot dress briefly looked at my table and me. When I looked up, our eyes met briefly. She glanced at her wristwatch, then looked back at the front entrance of the dining space. I noted impatience on her face as she took her cell phone from the purse beside her plate of wantons. After checking something on the phone, she stared through the raised curtain on the window on the right, craning her neck from side to side, looking out. As I ate my soup, I caught her taking out a small mirror from her purse, applying lipstick, arranging her hair, and dabbing some perfume behind both ears.
She’s waiting for her date, I told myself. My eyes fell on the doorway, wondering who the date was. A sigh escaped me upon remembering the messy dates I had a few years back. It was funny how the memories always carried us to similar moments in one’s life.
But it was about time to head back to the bus stop. My soup finished, I checked my watch. The bus was due in another twenty minutes when the waiting lady suddenly got up from her place. She took her handbag, rechecked her phone, and wiped her eyes. Oh dear, she is crying — I thought as she walked out of the restaurant. A sad day for someone in love — I felt sorry for the woman. I like happy endings to love stories.
I paid my bill and was about to head out when a gentleman rushed inside the restaurant. He looked around the whole place as if searching for something or someone. And then, he went up to the door--the greeter at the restaurant door. There were some quick exchanges of information in Chinese, or so I assumed. From his hand gestures, it is evident that he was describing a person. The waiter then pointed to the table where the waiting lady had been. But it was clear that the two men were talking about the woman who had left around ten minutes ago, the one I had been observing while eating.
The man banged his head with his hand and kept saying in English, “ Oh no, oh no! How could I have missed her? My bus was late and I was late.”
I watched the gentleman rush out the door, perhaps to look around to see if his date was still nearby. I wondered why love brings big puzzles like the one I witnessed. I remembered that I had also missed my bus earlier and hurried out, as I didn’t want to miss my ride again. And definitely, I didn’t want to keep someone waiting for me at home. As I boarded the bus, my eyes fell on the woman sitting quietly in a seat at the back of the bus - a woman in a red and polka dot dress. A closer look affirmed- she was the same woman from the restaurant.
Photo of Tulip Chowdhury
BIO: Tulip Chowdhury is a former teacher and writes fiction, poetry, and non-fiction. Books authored by her include two novels, Visible, Invisible and Beyond and Soul Inside Out. Her poetry collections are Red, Blue, Purple, and Verses on Vines. Her latest book, Life Stations, was published by Alien Buddha Press in early 2025. The books are available on Amazon.