"Ghanim, I'm so sorry about Felicia, if you need someone to talk to, I'm here for you," Francine Charbonneau said softly, and she gently laid her hand on her best friend Ghanim Djite's arm. Ghanim shrugged and looked at her, smiled faintly and then looked out the window. They were on the crowded number eight OC Transpo bus leaving downtown Ottawa, Ontario, for the nearby City of Gatineau, Quebec, on a sunny day in mid-May...
Gatineau, a small town right there on the border between Ontario and Quebec, is considered one of the toughest spots on this side of North America. The kind of place that lots of 'good' Canadians routinely turned their noses at. With an influx of Africans, Arabs, Asians and Latinos mingling with the traditional French Canadian and Aboriginals that made up the bulk of the population of Quebec, it was a melting pot and a powder keg all rolled into one. The place Ghanim Djite and Francine Charbonneau have called home for practically their entire lives...
"It's all good, Francine, I kind of saw it coming," Ghanim said, and when Francine looked into his soulful brown eyes, there was a hollow, defeated look that haunted her. Ghanim looked haggard, and she wasn't sure how to take it. Francine had known the six-foot-tall, burly and dark-skinned, Afro-sporting young Togolese Muslim practically her whole life. Hell, they grew up together on Boulevard Labrosse, one of the City of Gatineau's most 'storied' neighborhoods.
"No offense, Ghanim, but Felicia is a bitch, she doesn't deserve you," Francine said hotly, and Ghanim bit his lip, and kind of nodded. Sporting his University of Ottawa Gee-Gee's sweatshirt and a pair of blue jeans, Ghanim was just coming back from a long shift at the local Loblaw's, and he was tired as can be. Those ten-hour shifts were killer, and Francine, his friend and former co-worker, definitely knew it...
"The signs were all there, I should have known," Ghanim whispered, shaking his head morosely, and Francine leaned closer, straining to hear him. Francine licked her lips, unsure what to say. Ghanim had always been there for her, always protecting her from bozos and now that he needed her help, Francine was at a loss for words. Ghanim had always been there for her, like a rock. Seeing him so rattled hurt Francine to her core...
Born in the City of Gatineau to a French Canadian mother, Annette Bineau, and Arthur Charbonneau, an Aboriginal father originally from the Ojibwe First Nation, Francine Charbonneau grew up with a foot in each world. For Francine was considered too pale for the Natives and too dark for the whites, or something to that effect. Five feet five inches tall, sharp-featured and curvy, with long black hair, light bronze skin and light brown eyes, the exotically beautiful young woman was often mistaken for various other ethnicities. It was something Francine learned to live with as a visible minority in Canada...
"I'm half Native and half white," Francine Charbonneau always told both casual acquaintances and strangers when they inquired about her ethnicity. Francine was so used to being asked about her origins that she didn't know what to make of Ghanim Darnell and his parents, Nicolas and Yvette Djite when they moved to Gatineau, Quebec, from the West African nation of Togo. They didn't speak French, spoke English with an odd accent, and kept to themselves.
"I'm Ghanim, good to meet you," those were Ghanim's first words to Francine when he and his family moved into the old neighborhood on Boulevard Labrosse. Francine smiled hesitantly and then shook the tall, brawny young black man's hand. Thus the two of them met, and forged a lasting friendship. In time, Francine and Ghanim became inseparable. They went to the same school, and attended the same activity clubs.
After graduating from the local academy, the two best friends began to take divergent paths. Francine opted to study Nursing at Universite du Quebec en Outaouais, the Gatineau campus of the University of Quebec. Ghanim, though bilingual at this point, didn't want to attend an exclusively French-language university. That's why he chose the University of Ottawa, a decision which baffled Francine since the Quebec universities were a lot cheaper than the ones in provincial Ontario.
"J'aime vraiment pas la ville d'Ottawa," Francine often said to a smiling Ghanim, even though they both worked there. Gatineau, Francine and Ghanim's hometown, wasn't like the nearby City of Ottawa. On the Ontario side, people were outwardly friendly and polite but passive-aggressive and mean as hell, while on the Quebec side they were a tough-talking bunch, overtly hostile at times, but usually quite friendly once you got to know them. Ottawa people creeped Francine out with their passive-aggressive bullshit...
"Life goes on," Ghanim said somberly, his deep voice snatching Francine out of her little trip down memory lane. Francine grinned at her friend and patted his shoulder. Ghanim looked at his phone, and Francine winced as she noticed that he was still using Felicia Thompson's picture as his screen wallpaper. Of all the dumb things she'd seen a guy do, this one definitely took the cake...
Francine cordially detested Ghanim's ex-girlfriend Felicia Thompson, to put it mildly. The tall, dreadlocked, big-bottomed and chocolate-hued Togolese gal had done a number on Ghanim, slapping him around and cheating on him with O'Neill, some Irish guy she knew at work, yet Ghanim was still sweet on her. Men and their bullshit obsessions with the women who hurt them, Francine thought, shaking her head.
"Hey, star, ever thought about changing your phone wallpaper?" Francine asked, and as a surprised Ghanim looked at her, she snatched his phone from his hand, activated his camera, and took a selfie with it. As Ghanim blinked, a grinning Francine took a second picture with his camera, and managed to install it as his wallpaper before he snatched his phone from her hands. Ghanim shook his head, and Francine smiled innocently...
"Francine, tu es une petite peste," Ghanim said, laughing, and he held up his phone, looking at the new wallpaper. Francine looked at it and smiled. Clad in her blue Walmart work-shirt and Yoga pants, she looked alright, even though her long blonde hair was a mess. Only five-foot-five and a bit on the chubby side, Francine looked a bit tiny next to Ghanim, who looked like he could be an NFL or CFL linebacker. Still, they looked good together...
"Yeah, but you love that about me," Francine said, and as Ghanim nodded, still looking at the phone, she hesitated, and then planted a kiss on his cheek. Ghanim whirled around and looked at her, stunned. Francine looked at Ghanim in a way she never had before. He wasn't sure what he saw in her light brown eyes. Francine's heart thundered in her chest. Now or never, the young woman thought as she drew closer to the object of her affection...
"Newsflash, Ghanim, mon beau, there are other girls in this world besides Felicia Thompson," Francine said hotly. In a moment of uncharacteristic boldness, the short, lovely young woman grabbed the burly young Togolese by the collar and yanked him close, then kissed him on the lips. Ghanim looked up at Francine, amazed. Smiling, the young woman looked at him and shrugged. Ghanim's full lips tasted sweet. Truth be told, she'd been wanting to kiss him for a while...
"Francine, um, I don't know what to say," Ghanim said, and he looked at the young woman whom he'd known practically his whole life, stunned by what she'd just done. Never in a million years would Ghanim ever have thought Francine would French-kiss him. They've always been close friends, but never more than that. She was always the first person he turned to when his relationships didn't pan out, that's for damn sure.
"Don't say anything," Francine said, smiling sadly, and then she clapped Ghanim on the shoulder, and got off at the next stop. The bus was still a couple of kilometers from Francine's place, but all of a sudden, she didn't feel like staying on it anymore. With a last, forlorn look at a dumbfounded Ghanim, Francine smiled faintly, nodded at the bus driver and then got off.
"Son, I think she likes you," came a voice, and Ghanim turned around to see Mr. Duchene, an old Haitian guy who lived a few blocks from his place, and the old man was smiling. Ghanim looked at the old guy and then at the door, where Francine had gone. Suddenly filled with inspiration, the young Togolese rose to his feet, and hollered at the bus driver.
"I think you're right," Ghanim said, and the old Quebecer winked at him, smiling as the young man got off the bus, and rushed to the street. Indeed, Ghanim was running before he even hit the ground. As the bus took off, leaving the running youth in the dust, Mr. Duchene stroked his bearded chin and smiled. It was summertime and love was in the air...
"Dammit I'm dumb," Francine said to herself, shaking her head as she walked on the sidewalk. With a fatalistic shrug, she walked into Couche-Tard, a local convenience store, to buy some cigarettes. Francine hadn't had a cigarette in over three months. This was her latest attempt at quitting and she'd been doing quite well, but all of a sudden she felt stressed, and when stressed, Francine found smoking quite relaxing...
Francine browsed the different aisles of the small store, having picked up a pack of Marlboros, she found herself in no hurry to go back to the street. Try as she might, she couldn't stop thinking about Ghanim, about how soft his lips were and how sweet they tasted. For ages she'd fancied him, and now she'd done made her move and it blew right past him. She was so stupid to think she could make Ghanim forget about Felicia Thompson...
Francine vividly remembered how she felt when Ghanim first introduced her to Felicia Thompson, the tall, curvy black chick who worked at the Starbucks not far from their old neighborhood. Ghanim was smitten with Felicia, whom he called his Caribbean goddess. Francine's heart winced when Ghanim took Felicia's hand and brought it to his lips. For her, it had been very painful to watch...
