"I knew I shouldn't have eaten Chinese food at Rideau," Wafa Maalouf thought to herself, feeling her stomach grumble. She recalled wolfing down the platter in the crowded lunchroom after her eventful visit to the United States Embassy in downtown Ottawa. The stone-faced blonde lady behind the glass window denied her claim, and that was that. Thanks for nothing, Wafa thought, irate.
Visiting the U.S. was something of a cherished dream for Wafa, especially since her habibi ( beloved ) came from there. At the moment, though, she had other concerns. The young woman hurried out of the O-Train and sped across the street, toward the Minto Center building. Considered tiny at five-foot-six, Wafa nevertheless barreled through the doors with a strength that Marvel's Jessica Jones would envy, and rushed to the nearest washroom.
"What the fuck?" Wafa grumbled as she stood in front of the yellow door, with the men's washroom sign on it. Today, that sign frustrated Wafa to no end. The men's washroom door stared mockingly at her, and there was no adjacent ladies room. What's a gal to do under those circumstances? Shrugging, Wafa pushed the door, and seeing no one at the urinal, she rushed into the stall...
Sixty seconds later, with her pants around her ankles, Wafa let nature take its course. It got loud in the washroom, and she was supremely grateful that there was no one around. Fifteen minutes later, Wafa exited the men's washroom with a serene smile on her lovely face. As Wafa waltzed out of the Minto Building, she felt so much better...and perhaps a little bit lighter.
Walking through the snow-covered road winding through the Carleton campus, Wafa made her way to the University Center building. Upon entering the main floor, she thought about going to Tim Horton's, then saw the dozens of peons, ahem, students, lined up, and shook her head. Lines, Wafa doesn't do those. Ain't nobody got time for that, Wafa thought as she took the stairs.
Wafa reached the Atrium, and saw a bunch of South Asian female students in loose T-shirts and yoga pants dancing some sort of traditional dance, and paused. Something about what Wafa beheld tugged at her heartstrings. For a moment, Wafa thought of her hometown of Sidon, Lebanon, where she used to do the Dabke dance with her family. She missed them much more than she could say...
Wafa made her way to the Azrieli building, where she had a meeting with a certain gentleman. Wafa headed to a lounge, where she found...him. Sultan Elmi, the young man who stole her heart. Upon seeing Wafa, Sultan rose to his feet, the consummate gentleman. Decked out in a black leather jacket over a green T-shirt, loose-fitting blue jeans, and his obligatory black timberland boots, Sultan looked handsome and stylish.
"What's good, shorty?" Sultan asked, flashing Wafa that fearless smirk of his. Sultan stood almost a foot taller than Wafa, but she always felt amazing in his presence. Sultan threw his arms around Wafa and kissed her on the forehead. Wafa smiled and looked up at him, purring with contentment. It was astonishing how much she loved this young man...
Fellow students walking by the lounge paused to look at them, and neither Wafa nor Sultan paid them any mind. They were used to getting stared at, for many considered them to be a mismatched pair. The tall, dark-skinned Somali-American Muslim guy and the short, plump young Arab from Lebanon. Odd couples get together all the time, and the world hasn't ended as a result of such unions, so...life goes on.
"I'm not short, you majnun ( fool )," Wafa chided Sultan, playfully poking him in the ribs. Sultan grinned and gently stroked Wafa's face. From the moment he first laid eyes on Wafa, one fine day in the campus gym, Sultan knew that she was the right lady for him. Wafa, the short, mouthy gal with the big heart, who used her card to swipe Sultan into the gym the day he forgot his student card...
