Mariam and Rashid in Texas

Are you okay? Rashid asked, snapping me out of my reverie. I blinked in surprise, then smiled nonchalantly and told him everything was fine. Tell me the truth Mariam, Rashid said, his soulful brown eyes boring into mine. I hesitated, and sighed. Where to begin? Over the next hour, I shared my family's sad little saga with Rashid. My parents flight from Lebanon during the Civil War, our family life in Ottawa, my mother's affair and subsequent conversion to Islam, which led to her divorce from my father, and the chaotic hell that's been our family's divided lives since then. That's it that's all, I said, staring ahead while picking absentmindedly at my food.

Rashid gently laid his big, brown hand on mine. I am so sorry, he said. I looked up at him. I honestly don't know why I dropped all this stuff on him. I typically believe in keeping my mouth shut when it comes to certain things. Loose lips sink ships faster than Titanic-style icebergs, that's what I believe. And yet here I was, blabbing to a perfect stranger. Well, not a total stranger, more like a very handsome and interesting new friend, but you get what I mean, right?

Not your fault big guy, I said, shrugging and laughing mirthlessly. Not Rashid's fault my family life is fucked up. After watching my family get torn apart over issues of religion, after seeing my mother betray my father and her Maronite heritage, I was fed up with the world. I now know that in this world, those closest to us can fall into the clutches of evil and betray us. I considered my mother and my sister's conversions to be pure betrayal. This left me unable to trust. That's why my relationships don't last. I can't trust because I don't want to be hurt again. If my own mother and sister betrayed me and abandoned my father and I for their beloved cult, what are the odds that a stranger would love me?

All that and more sprang forth from my mouth, unbidden. I couldn't believe what I was saying. Patrons sitting near us looked at me and Rashid. Suddenly, Rashid was much closer to me. I know how you feel Mariam, he said, and gently put his hand on my shoulder. I looked into this eyes, this dark and handsome stranger. Did he truly understand? How could he? He's not Lebanese. He doesn't know what it's like to be the offspring of refugees, fleeing religiously motivated persecution. He doesn't understand what it's like to be betrayed by those closest to him.

You don't understand, I said, staring hard at Rashid as my eyes started to get moist. Rashid looked at me and shook his head. My parents fled Haiti in the 1980s because of a dictator named Jean-Claude "Baby Doc" Duvalier, Rashid said, his voice filled with conviction. I sat there and looked at him as he shared his family's story with me. A faraway look crept into Rashid's handsome face as he told me of the atrocities visited upon the Haitian population over the course of several decades by the dictator Jean-Claude Duvalier, and his father Francois before him.

The world slept while the Haitian people got slaughtered by their own government, Rashid said wistfully. I looked at him, and an eerie calm came over me. That's when I knew, that underneath it all, Rashid Montague, the Haitian-American guy from Atlanta, was a kindred spirit. His parents moved from Cap-Haitien, Haiti, to Atlanta, Georgia, in 1985. A year before the Duvalier regime ended. Although Rashid was born in Atlanta in 1987, the echoes of the troubling events both in his parents lives and their ancestral homeland helped define his character.

I am the son of refugees and I know that unless we stop evil it will prevail, Rashid said with conviction. My heart leapt when those words left his lips. Rashid is indeed a kindred spirit. How I wished the Arab Christian guys I knew in Ottawa had his kind of power and conviction. Most of them are completely apathetic to the plight of Christians in predominantly Muslim areas like Afghanistan, Syria and Egypt. The President of Lebanon is a Christian and for now, Lebanese Christians enjoy some power and stability, but if and when the Lebanese Muslim majority rises against them, they're fucked. Lebanese Christians would find themselves alone, surrounded by hostile and predominantly Muslim neighbors on all sides. I pray this never happens.

I smiled at Rashid and, for some reason, my hand went to his face. I gently stroked his cheek. You're just like me, I said. Rashid stared at me, confusion in his handsome face. Just as he was about to speak, the waiter, noticing our empty plates, came with the bill. Rashid looked at the waiter and smiled. I got this Miss Hassan, he grinned. I rolled my eyes at him in mock-anger. The name is Marian, I laughed. We left the restaurant shortly after, and enjoyed a nice walk around the neighborhood before going our separate ways. This was interesting, Rashid said. I nodded, and gave him a hug. Let's see each other real soon, I whispered into his ear. Judging by the kilometer-wide ( sorry Americans, us Canadians don't do miles ) grin on his face, I could tell Rashid felt the same way.

I went to my car, and sat there for a long moment, thinking about the afternoon events. I laughed, even as, surprisingly, the tears I hadn't even realized I'd been blinking back flooded my cheeks. Wow, one date/outing/whatever-it-is with Rashid and I'm already turning into Mushy Woman. Must be his brand of Haitian magic. My phone buzzed, snapping me out of yet another reverie, and I smiled when I saw I had a text message from Rashid. I had a wonderful time Miss Hassan and I hope you get home safe, it read. I smiled and nodded. See you real soon Mister Montague, I wrote back.

I drove home with a big smile on my face. The following Saturday, Rashid and I hung out at the Memorial City Hall, with little Yasmin in tow. His cousin Shirley was working and couldn't look after her. I'd been meaning to ask Rashid about Yasmin's mother, but sensed that the time hadn't yet come. This was our second outing, and I wasn't about to cross any boundaries. I wanted to show Rashid and little Yasmin the best of me, especially after my semi-meltdown in that restaurant the other day.

Want some ice cream? I asked Yasmin, whose pretty little face had been pouting all afternoon. Her eyes lit up like a Christmas tree, and she smiled. Yes please Miss Hassan, she said, in the same tone she usually used in class. I smiled at her and gently rubbed her little head, then looked at her handsome Daddy. If that's okay with you, I said with a smile, hoping I hadn't overstepped my bounds. As a real go-getter, it's one of those things I sometimes do without meaning to. Rashid looked at me, then at Yasmin and smiled. Thank the nice lady sweetie, he said, picking Yasmin up and kissing her on the cheek.

I looked at them, then paid for three scones. We got on our way. As we reached the escalators, I almost bumped into a little old white lady. You have a beautiful family, she said, looking at me, then at Rashid and Yasmin. Um, I began, but she was already done, marching down the escalator with surprising speed for someone so old. I looked at Rashid and Yasmin, and smiled. Guess we throw that kind of vibe eh? I said with a shrug. Rashid smiled but said nothing. Hugging Yasmin tightly, he joined me on the escalator.

The rest of the afternoon flew by quick, and I wished Yasmin and Rashid a good night. I had papers to correct, and I was working on my application to the University of Houston Law School. I called them and found out that my LSAT scores from Ontario, Canada, were considered valid in Texas. I wouldn't have to redo the whole thing like I dreaded. LSAT courses aren't cheap, some go for seven hundred dollars for a session. I only make seventeen dollars per hour and work ten-hour days as a substitute teacher. I quit my job at McDonalds because, well, I hated it. If I stayed there, dealing with bitchy customers and irate co-workers, I would have killed somebody.

As we reached the parking lot, I hugged Yasmin and Rashid, and wished them goodnight. Thanks for everything, I said, and gently kissed Rashid on the cheek. Taking out my camera phone, I took a snapshot of him and Yasmin. The big and tall brother blinked in surprise, but smiled and nodded. I walked to my car, waved them goodbye and drove away. I headed straight to my father's house, and for once, I didn't see him or Shanice on the premises. The place was empty, or so I thought.

I sat in the living room, smoking a Menthol and relaxing. I must admit, I had fun at the mall with Rashid and Yasmin. Right up to the moment when that little old white lady commented on our little 'family'. I took my iPhone from my pocket and looked at the last picture I took, Rashid standing tall with his daughter Yasmin in his arms. So cute, I whispered, to none but myself. Imagine my surprise when a feminine voice jolted me out of my little pre-nap smoke.

No smoking allowed in this house, said Shanice's all-too-familiar voice, shocking the bejesus out of me. I whirled around and stared at her. There she was, the woman who stole my father's heart, clad in a T-shirt and sweatpants. Hi Shanice, I said. She smiled icily, then pointed to my cigarette. I told her I was almost done with it. Hands on her hips, Shanice told me to put it out. It's my father's house, I countered, knowing how lame that sounded, even to my ears. Shanice moved swiftly, and in a flash she stood right in front of me. It's my home too, she said indignantly.

I looked at her, smiled and put out the cigarette after one last puff. You finally decided to fight back, I grinned. Shanice glared at me. Like it or not your father and I are getting married young lady, she said evenly. I looked Shanice up and down. I see the kitty has claws, hmmm. Shanice sat next to me unbidden, and we looked each other dead in the eye. Look I don't want a war with you I just don't want my father to get hurt, I said with a shrug.

Shanice rolled her eyes, a gesture that irked me. Joseph Hassan was a wreck when he came to Houston from Ottawa, she said, licking her lips. I frowned at her. Of course you helped put him back together, I said testily. Shanice nodded. I waited for the next volley, but it never came. Instead of the snide remarks or verbal barrage I expected, Shanice looked at me, an odd tenderness creeping into her ageless, beautiful face. I knew that man would be the love of my life since I first laid eyes on him, Shanice said, her eyes growing moist.

Shanice went on to describe how she met my Dad at the Houston Public Library, a few years back. A native of Houston, Shanice sensed right away that the tall, dark-haired and Mediterranean-looking man in the Ottawa Senators jersey wasn't from around these parts. You must be from Canada, those were my first words to my dear Joe, Shanice said, a tear pearling in her right eye. I looked at her and shook my head. The tall, statuesque black woman carries herself like a lioness day in and day out. I never imagined that she had such a spot for anyone, let alone my dear old Dad.

You really do love him, I said, staring at Shanice. Quietly, she nodded. I love Joseph Hassan more than I can say. I looked at Shanice, and gently touched her arm. I'm sorry I misjudged you, I said, then gave her a hug. Shanice hugged me back, and next thing I knew, we were laughing and crying. Yup, two women as dissimilar as the two of us, united in our love for my father. What did we do next? A round session of gal talk, while watching an old episode of Friends. My tomboy credentials are seriously questionable after this episode, but I'm glad it happened. I wouldn't say that Shanice and I are suddenly BFFs but we're cool now.

I even told her about my growing feelings for Rashid Montague and his daughter Yasmin, my pupil at a certain elementary school. This is highly inappropriate, Shanice laughed. I looked at her, smiled and shrugged. I showed her the picture I took of Rashid and Yasmin, currently serving as my wallpaper on my phone's screen. They're both beautiful Shanice noted, then she asked me about Rashid, and I told her how we met, what we discussed, and how I felt when I'm around him. It's not easy dating a single Dad with a headstrong daughter, Shanice said in a warning tone, winking at me. Tell me about it, I sighed, then we both laughed.

I didn't head home that night, I slept in the guest house, while Shanice slept upstairs. My father was away on a conference and returned the next morning. He was quite surprised to see Shanice and I having breakfast and watching TV together, since we haven't always gotten along. We understand each other, I later told Dad, and wished him and Shanice the best. We then we went to church together, just like a real family. Something I hadn't had in a long time. My eyes were moist as we exited the church, two and a half hours later. God bless you both, I said, then hugged Shanice and Dad. Then I left.

When I returned to school the next day, I found out from the principal that Monday would be my last day at San Giacomo Elementary. Apparently, Ms. Jennifer Peel, the gal I'd been subbing for these past few weeks was coming back. That's good now I can focus on my law school application, I said to the principal, who nodded understandingly. Inside, though, I was crumbling. Without realizing it, I'd grown attached to this school, and my students. The thought of not seeing their little faces tomorrow morning simply killed me. That last day at school was a blur. I tried to remember every corner of the classroom, every individual student's face, every little thing that made them unique. I looked at Yasmin, who waved at me happily. Dear God, the thought of not seeing her again hurt me most of all...

When the school day ended, I waited patiently for the parents to come pick up their sons and daughters. Yasmin stood by my side, hugging my leg as I gently touched her hair. We watched the throng of parents approach. One by one they came. A plump black lady in a UPS uniform, a white woman in a nurse uniform, an Asian guy in Khakis, a pair of blonde-haired older women with matching tattoos and skirts, i.e. the local lesbian mothers, a young black man in leather with badly dyed purple hair...all those people were here to pick up their brats. I looked from one face to another, until I saw...him. Rashid Montague, clad in a red T-shirt, blue jeans and cowboy boots.

Hello angel, Rashid said, holding his arms wide open. Daddy, Yasmin cried out happily, and rushed to him. Father and daughter embraced, and Rashid gently kissed his daughter on the forehead. Then he looked at me. Hello Miss Hassan, Rashid smiled. With Yasmin in his arms he stepped toward me. I smiled at him. Hello Rashid, I said, and gently kissed him on the lips. Our first kiss, and it was little more than a five-second peck. Rashid grinned at me. Sweet lips you got there Miss Lebanon, he laughed.

I looked at him, and forced a brave smile. Today is my last day at this school, I said, looking Rashid in the eye. Rashid's eyes widened in shock. Whoa, he said. I shrugged, resisting the urge to take a cigarette from my pocket. I smoke when I'm stressed, that's about it. And I'm definitely not going to smoke in front of little Yasmin here. You're going away Miss Hassan? Yasmin asked, her voice hesitant, her pretty little face frowning. This just broke my heart. I'm sorry darling, I said, tears welling up in my eyes.

When I started to cry, so did Yasmin. Great, I've never been the type of woman who cries in public. I'm a former high school and university wrestler, for crying out loud. And yet, the sight of this little angel weeping because she missed me broke my heart. Gently, Rashid put his arm around me. We'll be just fine, he said, hugging Yasmin and me. I looked at him, and nodded. Somehow, I believed him. Don't ask.

In spite of everything I tried, the school board refused to hire me on a permanent basis. You need a teacher's certification to become a teacher in the State of Texas. I'm just a very smart gal with a bachelor's degree...from Canada. I'm lucky to have made it this far as a substitute teacher, that's what I was told. Even though Canadian college and university degrees are just as valid as American ones due to the similarities of our institutions, there's a reluctance to hire us. And that's a damn shame.

Suddenly out of work, I had more time on my hands. I began spending more time with Rashid and Yasmin. We went to the movies, and restaurants together. Rashid and I have grown really close in these trying yet wonderful days. I couldn't find much work as a substitute teacher in Houston, so I decided to work as a manager at Wal-Mart and apply to law school. I sent applications to three schools, the University of Houston, the University of Texas and finally, the Thurgood Marshall Law School at Texas Southern University. Keep your fingers crossed for me babe, I told Rashid as I dropped the stamped letters in the mailbox.

You worry too much, Rashid told me, pulling me close and planting a hot, wet kiss on my lips. We were at his place, a modest three-bedroom apartment in Houston's Fannin Street sector. The apartment buildings in this area are really pricy, but Rashid told me he got a good deal from his landlord. Wow, I was impressed. With Yasmin staying with aunty Shirley, Rashid and I had the house to ourselves. We sat on the couch, making out while that old Eddie Murphy flick Boomerang played on BET.

I've wanted you for so long, Rashid whispered into my ear as his hands roamed all over me. I grinned and licked his lips, then climbed on top of him. I haven't been with a man in ages, I confessed, as I unbuttoned Rashid's shirt, exposing his hairy, muscular chest. Rashid's big hands went to my buttocks, and gave them a tight squeeze. Hmmm. When he did that, I purred like a kitten. Off came my tank top and sweatpants, and I sat on Rashid's lap, in my boxers. You wear boxer shorts? Rashid laughed. I glared at him and smiled. Keep talking trash about my damn boxer shorts and I'll keep them on, I said through gritted teeth.

My bad sweetie, Rashid laughed, and I grinned as he held his hands up in mock surrender. Taking those big hands of his, I placed them on my breasts. Rashid gently caressed and squeezed them, and then began sucking on them. Pushing me down on the couch, Rashid licked my tits, flicking his tongue over the areolas while his hand slid from my chest to my round belly, and finally my pelvic area. Rashid's magic hand slipped into my boxers, and his agile fingers wormed their way into my hairy, wet and neglected pussy. I gasped as he worked two fingers into my cunt.

Relax babe, Rashid said, and kissed me before he resumed tonguing my tits. I nodded, and tried to relax as Rashid worked his magic on me. He kissed a path from my breasts to my belly, and finally the space between my thighs. Be gentle with me Rashid, I warned quietly. Rashid nodded, then he pulled down my boxer shorts. Slowly, gently, Rashid began licking my pussy. I shuddered as he flicked his wicked tongue over my clitoris while sliding his fingers into my cunt. Oh shit, I moaned. Laughing, Rashid winked at me and continued what he was doing. Soon Rashid had me howling in pleasure, as his tongue action set me on fire down below.

A few minutes later, I was fully recovered from the oral whammy Rashid laid on me and ready to return the favor. I feasted my eyes on his big and tall, sexy dark-skinned body as my delicious Haitian-American stud stripped for me. I went straight for his dick. Grasping his cock, which was of average length but very thick, I gently took it into my mouth. I noticed that Rashid was uncircumcised. I had heard about guys like that but had never come across one. Interesting. I smiled and began sucking his dick with gusto. Hey, at least now I know he wasn't lying about being a non-Muslim.

You've got a delicious dick, I told Rashid, in between licks. He winked at me and gave me the thumbs up. Grinning, I resumed sucking his dick, gently massaging his balls as I did so. Soon I had him groaning and moaning. Oh damn, Rashid grunted, and I knew right then and there that he was close to blowing his load. So what did I do? I continued sucking his dick like there was no tomorrow and when Rashid finally came, I swallowed every last drop. His knees buckled, and he groaned and grunted like a madman. Hot damn it woman, Rashid said, grinning. I smiled and winked at him. That all you got? I teased.