Red Light
By: Manaa Ahmad
Tags: Short Story, Prose, Fiction Writing, Soulmates, Fiction

Credits — Unsplash

I turn off the car’s engine as my friend pops into the café to grab some muffins and coffee. We’re going for a drive today to celebrate the purchase of my first car. I lean back in my seat and look out the window. Autumn has arrived. The trees are ablaze with shades of red and orange, and the dry leaves scatter onto the street. There’s a slight chill in the air. I roll down the window to get some fresh air. The new car smell gives me a headache. I take in a deep breath and sigh. My first car! Dad always used to say that buying your first car is an emotional moment but I never quite understood why. Now, I know.

I look over at the coffee shop- Ali, my friend, is at the counter. I glance at the number floating over his head. I look over at the other people in the shop and their numbers. My shoulders sag and I slouch into my seat. Everyone will be well off when they meet their soulmate. I wonder why the amount of money your soulmate has is the only hint you get about them. I look up at the rearview mirror. My number floats just above my head. It has always been low and it never changed much. I cross my arms across my chest and pout, mirroring the behavior of a naughty child who had been put in a time-out. I let out another sigh and run my fingers through my hair. I tell myself that there are more important things than what’s in your soulmate’s bank account.

I sit up and adjust the rearview mirror. My eyes widen as I look at my reflection and my mouth drops open. The number went up! I cover my mouth with my hand as the passenger door clicks open. I turn to my friend pointing excitedly at my number, “Ali, look at-”

“Drive!”

It’s not Ali. I blink. A guy, wearing a beanie and dressed in black, stares back at me. Slouching against the seat, he tries to catch his breath and adjusts a large black bag onto his lap. He seems to be the same age as me. I blink again. Behind us, I hear someone yelling. The guy in my passenger seat rolls his eyes, “For God’s sake, just drive!”

My heart skips a beat. I reach for the key and turn it. I don’t think much and well, I drive. I hit the gas and pull away from the coffee shop. I roll up the window and grip the wheel with both my hands. The guy next to me smirks, “Thank you. I thought you were never gonna move.”

I begin to slow down as we approach a red light. I hear a siren behind us. The guy sits up straight, frowning, “Lady, are you kidding me?”

“Huh?” He probably thinks I’m stupid. I do feel stupid. My heart is racing. My knuckles have turned white from gripping the steering wheel. I feel like my knees may buckle if I were to stand up.

“Run the light.”

“What? No way.”

I glance at my mirrors and see cop cars with flashing lights. What did I get myself into? I’m not sure what’s in his bag. I don’t know whether he has a weapon on him. So, I do the only thing that makes sense to me right now: I run the light. I turn on my indicator and swerve onto the intersection. The incoming cars jerk to a stop and honk. I almost crash into one of them. I yelp an apology at the driver even though he probably couldn’t hear me and turn left.

The guy- he’s a thief, I think- looks over his seat, “That was a close call.” He turns to me, “I think we lost them.”

I don’t answer. I wipe my sweaty palm on my jeans. My phone begins to ring. The guy reaches for it and holds it up for me. It reads Ali’s caller ID. I smack my forehead. Ali! How could I forget? I open my mouth to say something but I’m cut off by the distant wailing of sirens. The guy curses and puts the phone back in its place, “Keep driving.”

“No.” I reply. “I’m pulling over.”

He curses again. “They’re going to think you’re my accomplice, you know.”

“No, I’ll tell them the truth.” I say. “I’ve never met you before.”

I begin to slow down. I can see the cop cars again. The guy raises his eyebrow, “I don’t think that’ll work.” He points to my number. “That’s exactly how much I have now.”

My stomach drops. A chill scurries over me and my vision blurs for a second. I glance at his number; it reads the exact amount that I currently have. A strange feeling comes over and I do not like it one bit. I’ve always been someone who knew what to do, who always had a back-up plan for a back-up plan. Now? I’ve never felt so unsure of what to do. Do I keep driving? Or, do I pull over? No, he’s right. They’ll assume that I am his accomplice.

Unsure of what to do, I follow his orders as he tells me where to go. I run the next light and hastily dodge the incoming cars, but I manage to almost hit another one. The tires screech as I change gears and pull into the next street. I begin to wonder, as I overtake two cars, why I drove away in the first place. Was it because of the excitement of my number increasing? Or, was it because I had seen his number before he pointed it out to me? Deep down, has money always been on my mind?

“Oye, watch where you’re going!” He yells and I swerve to overtake a car.

We’re approaching another red light. The sky is now overcast with dark clouds. The hum of the car seems louder than before. I slow down and get behind a car. The sirens get louder. I rest my head against the steering wheel. I turn to face him, my face damp, “I’m sorry. I can’t do this.”

He mutters something under his breath, adjusts his beanie and shoulders his bag. Turning to me, he says, “Thanks for the ride. I don’t want to be your soulmate.”

He steps out of the car and disappears into the traffic.