When most people think of odd couples, they're probably thinking of my boyfriend Nathaniel and myself without knowing it. I mean, we're REALLY different! My name is Elaine Fouad, and I'm a young woman of Lebanese descent living in the City of Montreal, province of Quebec. My parents Antonio and Maria Fouad moved to Quebec from the Chiyah region of Lebanon in 2000. Thirteen years later, we've adjusted fairly well to life in Canada as Lebanese Christian immigrants. My parents own a Lebanese-themed yet Latin-flavored restaurant in the north side of Montreal, Shawarma Corazon. Named after the restaurant where they met and fell in love while vacationing in Brazil, a long time ago.
Life as a young female professional in the big metropolis isn't easy. I graduated from Concordia University in 2009 at the age of twenty four with a Master's degree in business administration. I always dreamed of working for a big corporation but the only place that offered me a job was the Canadian Imperial Bank of Commerce. I ended up working at the same CIBC where I used to go make transactions with my dad on Saturday mornings. Isn't that cool? I work as an account manager. Which is a glorified way of saying that when people come into the bank, I'm the gal behind the counter, greeting them and asking them to insert their debit or credit card into the machine so I can help them with whatever transaction they're making that day. It's a decent job, and it pays seventeen bucks per hour to start. After four years on the job, I make twenty dollars and seventy five cents per hour but I feel bored and restless. I was meant for more than this!
When I share my frustration with my parents, they just don't understand. They see that I dress like a businesswoman and I work in an office, so they assume that I'm happy since I've got a desk job. They tell me that I should be grateful for what I have. Now, don't get me wrong, I am grateful, but I just want more, I guess. Many people I knew from university have left the country altogether because university-educated professionals can't find work in their fields in the provinces of Ontario and Quebec. The only province with a plenitude of work is Alberta, and to me that's just too far. Besides, I don't see myself living in redneck country, so I don't think I'll ever move down there. I am a proud Lebanese woman, and I speak Lebanese Arabic and Quebec French flawlessly. I speak English fluently as well, but it's heavily accented. People always ask me if I'm from Mexico when they meet me. I'm five-foot-nine, often described as curvy and sassy, with light bronze skin, curly black hair and light brown eyes. Apparently, everything about me screams Hispanic, though I've occasionally been mistaken for Yemeni. Don't ask. I proudly tell them that I'm from the Republic of Lebanon, though I became a naturalized citizen of Canada in the summer of 2006, exactly six years after my family and I first moved here.
Yeah, I was feeling restless in the City of Montreal, until fate introduced me to what I had been missing. One fine day in November, a tall, good-looking black man walked into the bank. He came to start a new account with us. The other girls working behind the counter eyeballed this sexy stud muffin as he made his way toward us. There are twelve people working at the downtown Montreal branch of the Canadian Imperial Bank of Commerce. Nine of us are women between the ages of twenty and forty. Of the three men working in the office, two are gay and one is a tall and sexy but unavailable guy. I'm referring of course to Michel Tremblay, a happily married French Canadian guy with a gorgeous Ethiopian wife. He's also our manager and I for one don't believe in screwing around the office. You'll forgive us bored office girls for gushing over every sexy guy who comes into our workplace. It's about all the action some of us get!
As luck would have it, the tall black gentleman in question was very interesting. He introduced himself as Nathaniel Bonheur, and I immediately pegged him as a Haitian. He spoke French with that distinctly Haitian flavour, and when I asked him if he was new to the City of Montreal, he nodded and smiled. Nathaniel Bonheur was definitely new to my beloved town. He came to Montreal from Haiti during the summer, and enrolled at McGill University. A McGill man, eh? I was impressed, to tell you the truth. McGill University is hands down the toughest school in all of Canada. You've got to be really smart to even get in. Nathaniel Bonheur showed me his McGill University student identification card, along with his Quebec provincial health card and his social insurance card as proof of ID. I created a student checking account for him, and he surprised me further by pulling out his wallet and picking out four hundred dollars. Put these into my new account, he said seductively, licking his lips. I nodded and smiled. Sounds good to me, chief.
