Black Timing

Today is just like any ordinary summer day. The sun is shining, a cool wind is blowing and I’m…burning. This heat is killing me. I've been roasting in the sun for over 30 minutes now and there’s still no sign of that girl! I’m kind of pissed honestly. I mean who wouldn’t be. Its blazing hot, and I’m thirsty and tired. I swear this is too much for a young person like me to handle. I didn’t even bring my sunscreen!

There’s no shade to hide under as well. It’s as if I'm waiting in a desert. Soon my imagination starts to run wild as I conduct my own one woman show. In my mind this entire situation goes something like this:

“Help….somebody help me please….I’m dying!” I cry out weakly. My voice raspy from dryness that even my saliva can’t satiate.

Out of nowhere a mysterious person suddenly appears before me, like an angel sent from above. He looks at me with pity and says, “Don’t worry I can help you. Do you need some water?” His voice is nice and clear. Sounding like a cool breeze of fresh air.

“Here,” he says offering me a small bottle. “I have a bottle of cold water for times like these, have some.” He's such a nice person, offering me water to drink out of kindness. I feel grateful, but still I refuse his offer with a slight shake of my head. Water isn’t what I want.

“You don’t want water?” I’m sure he feels confused. After all I look like I’m about to collapse in this place. Still he continues with his attempt to help me. After all he is a kind soul, a once in a while angel that appears in life. “Then what do you want?” he asks.

I sigh and finally tell him “Please…” I whisper so softly that it's difficult to hear. So he draws closer to me and I speak into his ear, “ Please...get that stupid friend of mine to finally show up.” I express all my sorrow and grievance in just those few words. These are my last words before I faint... dramatically. I lose consciousness, with my mind having slipped into darkness while my guardian angel stands there beside me. The end. Well, the end of my one woman show plus an extra that is. These are merely the delusions of a woman suffering from heat stroke. It’s not really surprising, since I’ve been in the sun for so long.

Looking at the still absent friend of mine, I can’t help sighing in frustration. It’s not like it’s the first time this has happened. In fact it’s something my friend does all the time when we have an engagement. She's a true definition of a black woman who runs on black timing. If we agree to meet at noon exactly, she shows up an hour later. Sometimes when it’s severe, she can be late for two hours!

I personally don’t understood the concept of black timing. Why are most black people always late? Even though a set time has been agreed on, they show up late. Of course I can understand if they’re late once in a while. But all the time? There must be a problem somewhere. And it’s not just me, almost every black person has that one friend that is always late. Most of my friend's cousins’ friends are like that. I really think it’s a trend. 

Despite her inability to keep to time she’s still my friend. She’s not someone I can just dump aside because of this. In fact, she’s my best friend. We’ve been together for a while, around eight years, since our university days. So I can say she’s a really good person. 

It is because I know what she’s like that I purposely set our meeting time an hour earlier. It was my hope that she will actually be on time this time. Sadly, that hope was only a dream. One that doesn't seem like it come to pass anytime soon.

I won’t lie, I’ve thought about giving up. Not on the relationship, but on our meetings. Sometimes I think I should go back home and leave her behind. Let her suffer alone, and experience what it means to wait for a person who takes forever to show up. Maybe then she’ll finally understand my pain and change. Other times I think about leaving and a few hours later when I know she’s arrived at our meeting place I’ll call her to say: 'Sorry, let’s meet up another time'. It would be so fun…I release a soft sigh. Sadly I’m the kind of person who sticks to my word and doesn’t like to be late. Sometimes my character is truly my greatest weakness.

Before I can wallow any further, I notice a familiar silhouette drawing closer. "Finally," I mutter under my breath. At least she’s come...even though it's an hour later than promised.

“You’re late,” I state plainly. My disapproval is clearly written on my face. I don’t even try to hide my frustration. It’s important to let her know that I’m unhappy. Because no matter how many times this happens I can’t get used to it. Actually, I refuse to get used to it. The moment I do is the moment I think I’ve accepted that she can’t change. I’m an optimistic person who believes that change is possible. No matter how low the probability is.

“Sorry,” she gives me an apologetic smile. Not that it helps.

“If you’re really sorry, then come on time next time.” I say in reprimand. We both know that I’m not really angry. I’m just openly expressing my feelings in our relationship. Transparency is after all key in every relationship.

“Next time. I promise, that I’ll be on time the next time we meet. I’ll even set my alarm three hours earlier.” She slipped her hand into my arm and leaned against me. “Don’t be angry okay.” I inwardly click my tongue. It’s only at times like this that she acts all cute and fluffy. Truly an ass-kisser. 

“Alright,” I tap her hand softly so she lets go of my arm. “So why are you late this time?”

“Actually, I have a good reason this time,” she explains. Not that I believe her, but I’ll still hear her out. “I started getting ready on time, since we were supposed to meet at 12. But then I discovered that my makeup was messed up.” I look sceptical at her words.

“It’s true. That sister of mine actually made an entire mess of my makeup set, so I had to quickly order a new one that could only be delivered in an hour. You know how far my house is from the mall,” she gave me a small pouting face. “I really had no choice this time.”

I shake my head at her, “You could have just come here without makeup.” The very idea seems appalling to her. She looked as if the very thought of going out without makeup was inconceivable. “What? I’m the only one here that you’re going to meet anyway. And I’ve already seen you without makeup.”

“No no no no no.” She vehemently disagrees. “You don’t understand, I wouldn’t have even come out if I couldn’t put my makeup on. Besides it’s not just you who will see me, there are other people outside. You don’t know who could be watching me. What if they see me without makeup, do you know what a disaster that would be?”

“Please,” I roll my eyes. “You’re just hoping you can strike gold and land a hot guy.” She doesn’t even try to hide it as she laughs.

“So true,” she says.

With that we head on our way to our ever so delayed destination.