Old Friends

            “Hey man.”

“Hey.”
            “Been waiting for you; where you been?  Working?”

            “Yep.”

            “Yeah that’s what I thought.  It’s a little late though right?  I saw you come up, you look tired man, you ok?  How was it?”

“Eh.  Same ol’ same.  Boss was riding me all day.”

            “Yeah?”

            “Yeah.  He treats me like an ass sometimes.  I do all the heavy work and he just stands there yelling at me to work harder.  Like I’m the one slacking off.  I’m really starting to hate that guy.”

            “Yeah well forget about him, man.  He’s an idiot anyway.  He couldn’t do half the work you do.  Anyway it’s the weekend man, what you gunna do?  You got plans?”

            “Plans?  You taking shots at me or something?  You know I don’t have any plans.”

            “Well, I don’t know man, I thought, I don’t know.  I thought you might go into town with the family or something.  I don’t know.”

            “No, I’m not going into town with the family.  Not that I know of anyway.  Probably just be right here the whole time.”

            “Well that’s cool man.  Beats working,” he stopped briefly to attack a sudden itch behind his ear.  “Hey I saw that foreigner again.”

            “Yeah?”

            “Yeah man.  He came up to me today, started talking.  But I aint understand a word he said.”

            “Yeah he said something to me the other day too.  I didn’t understand him either; I just pretended like I didn’t hear him.”

            “Ha, yeah man.  He seems nice enough though right?  I kinda like him.”

            “Yeah, me too I suppose.  Though, I really don’t know anything about him.  But at least he doesn’t bother me.”

            “Yeah not like those kids round the way, right?”

            “Let’s not even start about the kids.”

            They both sat quietly for a moment.  The sky above faded from deep purple in the east to bright blue overhead to blazing orange in the west and was dotted with slow drifting white clouds and small groups of wandering black birds.  The late September sun was just beginning to nestle down for a nap in between two groups of trees and the warm glow it cast was reflecting off the whites of the houses and onto the faces of the two old friends.  They closed their eyes and imagined themselves far away, in no place particular, just somewhere different; a place so nice that it couldn’t be bothered by details.  They sat this way for a long time, until finally the silence was broken by a sigh.

            “I gotta get out of here.”

            “Yeah, tell me about it man.”

            “No, I’m serious.  I, I can’t live like this.  I gotta go.”

“Oh yeah,” he turned and eyed his friend suspiciously, “Where would you go?”

           “I don’t know, I just.  I just can’t keep this up, that’s all.  This job, this life.  I work all the time and for what?  What do I have to show for it?”

            “Hey well no offense man, but at least you got a job, right?  You work and you get to eat.  Me?  I’m living off scraps, you know?”

            “Yeah,” he let his head fall and said quietly, “but at least you have your freedom.”

            “Freedom?  Freedom to do what man?  Freedom to dig around in the trash for my lunch?  Freedom to sit at people’s doorsteps and hope they give me their left-over’s?  No way man.  If that’s freedom then I want my money back.”

            “Well, I’m just saying man, this,” he nodded at his surroundings, “This isn’t the life for me.  I gotta get out.”

Again they sat in silence.  Nearby a woman in a ragged apron and plastic sandals was taking the last piece of bread out of a large, clay oven.  The two friends watched as she placed this one on a plate with the rest, covered them with a dirty dish towel, and carried them back into her house.

“You could come too you know.”

            “Yeah?”

            “Yeah.  You just said you don’t have anything around here to live for.  You can dig through the trash anywhere.”

            “Yeah. But, but I’m comfortable here.  You know?  I know everyone.  I know where everything is.  It’s just.. I’m comfortable here.  I thought you were too.”

            “Comfortable?  You’re joking right?”

“Well, maybe not comfortable comfortable.  I just meant, you know, you got a job, you get dinner every night.  You have stability, you know?  It could be worse.”

“Yeah well I don’t see how.  You’ve seen the work I do.  You’ve seen my boss, the way he treats me.  Then I come home to this place.  No, I can’t do it anymore.  I gotta find a way out, and soon.”

Five o’clock was just turning to dusk as I peeled off from the alley and headed towards the courtyard.  Sounds of children’s playing soared over the wall and fell on my ears like carols at Christmas.  The communal oven just outside our yard was black with a new layer of soot and already I could smell something delicious cooking on the stove from within the house.  The family donkey stood tied up to half a tree just a few paces off from the gate, and at his feet laid a dog that would often keep him company in the evenings.  They both looked up at me as I approached and I could see in their eyes that they would have liked to tell me something if I could have understood.  I spoke a few soft words to them and turned to enter the courtyard, not wanting to impose on their time together.  It seemed to me that these two were always deep in conversation, though I was never quite sure what they were talking about.