Mao Senior and I had an argument. It was nothing new. I left the house although it was already dark and took the Hammersmith Road back to the main street.
And I wasn’t familiar with the area, the houses bound tight together, like where the Jovanović‘s lived. At the end of the road, I turned right onto Main where the shops too, were packed side by side.
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They were closing up, I noticed, when I got there. I went into the first one despite its dim light only to find out that it was a laundromat.
So I went to the next one. I peered in through the glass door, opening it just a little to get a clearer view, and I saw that it was the dryer shop, where I assumed you would go after you’d washed your clothes at the laundromat.
The third shop looked promising but just as I arrived, someone inside sharply pulled down the grey metal barrier until it was halfway.
My baby was getting antsy by now though I jogged her up and down against my shoulder. I wouldn’t be able to find cigarettes anywhere. So I turned back and just then, there appeared a Chinese woman pushing a pram. She too was trying to find an open newsagent.
“How about the other side?” I said to her and we walked together, back to the Hammersmith Road to go left on Main instead of right.
The pram was pink and plastic but it looked unwieldy against her small frame. Her black hair was cut in a bob, she had a round, somewhat plain face and I thought she would chide me for wanting cigarettes.
We crossed the Hammersmith Road and the first building, on the other side, was just a row of houses. But the entrance to the following building, hidden somewhat by being on a corner, had a shop light dimly projecting from the door. It was located on the diagonal of the next intersection.
I pushed open the glass door and inside were the familiar rows of newsagent goods.
And I was about to step in when I thought to call my dad, to see if he wanted anything, when the Chinese woman suggested I take her number. Or was it the other way around?
Anyway I was juggling the baby and my phone, while holding the door open, my back to the shop. I tried to enter dad’s number, it would be a reconciliation thing; and the same time I was looking at the woman and wondering whether I needed another child in my life when she said:
“I’ll call your mobile. That way I’ll have your number.”
Then she started to dial.
Photo by Alt-x cropped, via Flickr.
