My Persian Romance in Ottawa

"A lot of Arabs are racist toward Africans, even in Canada," the young Middle-Eastern woman sitting across from me said with a sigh, looking at me as I got ready to get off the OC Transpo bus at Baseline Station. I looked at her and shrugged as I exited the bus. Everyone on the bus was looking at me but at this point, I didn't give a damn. Sometimes, a brother has just about enough of Ottawa-area people and their unique brand of passive-aggressive racist bullshit...

"Whatever," I say to the focal point of my rage, a young Arab dude sitting on the middle seats. While I was cussing him out, he called me something in Arabic which I did not understand. Whatever. Earlier, the dude got on at Fallowfield Station and sat next to me, and started looking at me in a shifty, vaguely hostile way while surreptitiously sneezing at me. You read right, the dude was sneezing at me. I got pissed and called him out on it, and got his attention by poking him on the arm. Dude, um, didn't like that...

What followed was a lot of angry staring and shouting between me and the sneezing Arab male passenger. I'm not buying that he was casually sneezing. The Arab dude was looking at me in a weird way since he got on the bus. A lot of people in this town are hateful and passive-aggressive, especially towards young black men. I seem to be the only one who calls them out on their bullshit. Guess I don't mind causing a scene. Just a big and tall, well-dressed brother with an Afro wilding out on the bus. Nothing to see here...

Shaking my head, I got on my way and watched the bus speed away. I wrapped up my coat and headed to the Ottawa Public Library at Centrepointe, which sat in the distance. I headed there and picked up the two books I had on hold, Star Trek novels taking place within the Klingon Empire. Yeah, I'm a Trekkie. Black male Trekkies do exist, ladies and gentlemen. Get used to it. Ignoring the endless stream of old people and brats coming in and out of the library, I head back to Baseline.

It's a cold day, and I hate waiting for the bus at Baseline Station because it's too frigging exposed. The only places in the City of Ottawa with heated bus shelters are Lincoln Fields and, um, Place d'Orleans. And huge distances separate the two of them. Fortunately for me, I don't have long to wait. A 94 bus comes and I hop on, and flash my U-Pass to the bus driver, a middle-aged white dude. Guy nods at me and I get on the bus, and look for a seat.

I ride the bus till Bayview Station, and then sigh in relief as we finally reach Carleton University. I've got to use the washroom, seriously. I made a beeline for the University Center building and head straight for the men's washroom on the first floor. I am barely able to unbuckle my pants, pull down my boxers and sit down before the stuff starts coming out of me. I sigh in relief, and shake my head as I do my business. That's what I get for eating three-day-old Chinese food that I brought home from Manchu Wok, I guess...

I exit the washroom a few minutes later, after washing my hands thoroughly. As I head toward the elevators, I pause at Tim Horton's. Now, there's about twenty people in line, which is surprising since this is Reading Week and Carleton University is supposedly on winter vacation. I shake my head and head for the elevator. I'm in a foul mood today and don't really care for lining up behind the other peons to get some coffee. Thanks but no thanks.

I reach the service elevator to the side of the building, and punch the button. The doors swing open, and a tall, skinny white dude exits, flanked by his tall and somewhat plump African girlfriend. Our eyes meet and I smile politely. Both of them look away and walk past me. Whatever. I punch the fourth button and head to the Atrium. There's a campus tour guide speaking to a bunch of folks, young and old. I walk past them and hit the tunnels, as I head toward the Mac Odrum Library.

It's a cold day, but for some reason, I cut through the quad. The grass is covered with leftover snow, and there's salt all over the floor. I resolutely walk toward the library, and almost trip on the steps. Some fool left a clear plastic cup that I somehow missed. I almost fall, but catch myself. Damn, I could have fallen and busted my damn head on the library steps. Can this day get any better?

"Watch yourself there," comes a feminine voice, and I look up to see a young Middle-Eastern woman standing there, holding the massive steel door. I hurry up the steps and enter the library, nodding thankfully at her. Now, I'm the outspoken type when people mess with me, but it might surprise you to know that when I'm not dealing with fools, I'm a gentleman through and true.

"Here you go, ma'am," I say with a smile as I hold the secondary door for the young woman, and she smiles. I pause as I stand in front of the library's in-house Starbucks. I have a craving for a panini sandwich, but there's like ten people in line. Great. Just great. Hmmm. Perhaps I'll get the sandwich later. Might as well go get some work done first, you know?

Resolutely, I stride forward. I head toward the elevator, and ride it to the third floor. I love this floor mainly because it's the silent floor. Sure, there's some construction going on but whatever. I still like it. I head to my favorite spot, a computer terminal at a corner near the back window. I smile as I notice that it's unoccupied, and there's no bozos sitting nearby. Great.

"Is this your favorite spot?" comes a voice, just as I start to log on. I look up and notice the young Middle-Eastern woman from before. She's standing there, looking quite lovely in a black jacket over a red turtleneck shirt and blue jeans. Now, the average man reacts in predictable ways when dealing with an attractive young woman. I'm not the average man. I'm a recluse and somewhat on the neurotic side, with misanthropic tendencies. I barely stop myself from telling to get lost...

"Hello again," I reply, with a smile I hoped was pleasant. Grinning, the young woman grabs the seat next to me and drops her backpack on the desk, causing almost the entire row to shake. I silently grind my teeth, for I hate it when people do that. The young woman starts logging on the computer, and flashes me a smile I knew must melt many a young man's heart. Doesn't work on me. What does she want?

"You don't remember me, do you? We spoke on the bus this morning, I saw what that guy did and you were totally justified in confronting him," she says with a smile, and I gasp in shock as I suddenly recall where I'd previously seen her. I see a thousand faces on the bus everyday. Sure, this gal is pretty but there's lots of attractive women on the bus. Small world, I thought to myself. Again, what does she want?

"I'm usually respectful, quiet and laid back, but I loathe racism, especially the passive aggressive kind," I reply, through gritted teeth. Nodding in apparent agreement, the young woman holds out her hand, and keeps on smiling. After a brief hesitation, I shake her hand, mostly to be polite. As you can probably tell, dearest readers, I'm not the most social man on the planet earth...

"I know what you mean, I'm Farizah," the young Middle-Eastern woman replies, and as she shakes my hand, the strength in her grip surprises me. Seriously, she's about five-foot-six and although she's a bit on the chubby side, I am pretty sure I can pick her up with one hand. Not that I would ever do such a thing. Not big on human contact. In fact, I usually come to the library's third floor to get away from the noise and socializing that plagues much of the Carleton University campus.

"Pleasure meeting you, Farizah, I'm Adam," I say as pleasantly as I can, and Farizah nods. For an awkward moment we look at each other, and then my slow computer finally finishes logging on. I reach for my backpack and pull the headphones I bought at the Saint Laurent Mall's Dollar Store and put them on my ears. I plug them into the PC and head straight for YouTube.

Someone recently uploaded entire seasons of the old show Star Trek online, and I'm watching one of my favorite series in order. Good stuff. I smile politely at Farizah, and hope it's the end of this chatter. Farizah looks at me curiously, then takes headphones out of her purse, and starts listening to something. Out of curiosity I glimpsed at her screen, and notice that she's watching a French film called Rengaine. Cool. I resume watching my show. Moments later, I feel a tactile sensation on my shoulder. Farizah is tapping my shoulder excitedly...

"Oh, Adam, sorry to bother you but you've got to check this out," Farizah says, laughing, and I look into her face. Two thoughts hit my head like Thor's hammer. One, this gal is really pretty, with her lovely almond-shaped brown eyes, round little face, pug nose and full lips. Kind of reminds me of Hollywood actress Salma Hayek in her Dogma days. Secondly, Farizah is extra annoying with annoying on top. Like, what the fuck, man?

"What is it?" I sigh as I take off my head phones, and Farizah touches my arm, then points at her computer screen. The movie Rengaine is playing, and the protagonists, a young black dude and an Italian-looking lady are sitting on the grass, kissing and smiling like real lovebirds. Cool. So what? I am seriously curious about what is so damn important that she felt the need to basically grab my attention...

"Oh, I just love these two, the heroes of this movie, Dorcy and Sabrina, are fighting for their love in Paris, he's African and she's from the Maghreb," Farizah says with a wink, and she smiles and says "aw," something I hate hearing women say, by the way. Last time a woman said that to me, she friend-zoned the hell out of me...after we'd been out on like five dates.

"Cool," I reply politely. I nod and smile at Farizah, who continued watching her movie and rapped the desk so much that her civil engineering book fell. Isn't that frigging awesome? I politely picked it up for her, and she nodded gratefully. Seriously, it blows me away how I continue to be the magnet for such random events and random people...

"Sounds like an interesting movie, like an interracial Romeo and Juliet," I offer in a hopeful tone, and Farizah nods eagerly. The young woman then launched into a long tirade about how the traditions in North African, Persian and Arabian communities needed to change, especially given their dislike of interfaith and interracial unions involving women from the aforementioned communities. This was getting a little too deep for me...

"Yeah, that's exactly right, people forget that in the days of Prophet Mohammed, peace be unto him, an Arab woman named Hind Al Khulasah married a black man named Bilal Ibn Rabah, the legendary companion of the Prophet Mohammed and one of the first Muslims," Farizah says enthusiastically, and I nod thoughtfully, as if I knew what she was talking about. What on earth did I get myself into?

Seriously, I'm the son of Haitian immigrants who came to the City of Ottawa, Ontario, from the City of Cap-Haitien, Haiti. I was raised Catholic, but these days, I have a fairly secular outlook on life, though I still believe in the Creator. I've seen what people do to their fellow man in the name of religion, and not just in places like Israel or the Arab world. Would it be fair to say that I believe in a Supreme Being but despise religion?

"You are a unique lady," I reply, after a thoughtful pause, and Farizah looks me up and down, then grins. The lady flashes me that fearless smile of hers, and something amazing happens. I, Adam Celestin, the only son of Marie and Jacques Celestin, am a cynical and misanthropic and bitter kind of guy. I don't like people and believe the human race sucks. So why is my heart skipping a beat as Farizah winks at me.

"You got no idea, my dude," Farizah grins, and she playfully taps my hand before she resumes watching her movie. I was totally not expecting that. For some reason I am smiling as I resume watching Star Trek. On this episode, Spock travels back to his home world for an arranged marriage and ends up fighting and nearly killing Kirk instead. Spock is raging and emotional instead of his usual cool, calm and logical self. I glimpse at Farizah, who is laughing to herself as her movie goes on, and realize that know exactly how Spock must be feeling...

"Got a Facebook?" I asked, looking at Farizah, after waving my hand to get her attention. The lovely young woman paused her movie, took off her headphones and looked at me. I guess she didn't hear me. I repeated my question, and my heart sank when Farizah shook her lovely head. I smiled and shrugged, acting casual, like nothing was bothering me, even though my heart winced...

"Nah, not big on social media, though I'm always on What's App," Farizah said, and with that the lovely lady took out her cell phone and looked meaningfully at me. I nodded quickly, and took out my phone. Smiling, Farizah dictated her cell phone number to me, and I swiftly saved it on my Alcatel touchscreen phone. I smiled at her, amazed at her forwardness...and my damn luck.

"Got you saved up," I replied, and Farizah arched an eyebrow, and nodded. A few minutes later, the lady began logging off the computer and gathering her belongings. I watched as she got up, and then stood awfully close to me. Normally, I don't like it when folks, male or female, get too close. That's why I usually put my bag on the seat next to mine whether I'm on the bus or at the campus library. Still, I did not mind Farizah's proximity, though I couldn't tell you why...

"It was good to meet you, Adam, you're an interesting guy, see you around, Insha Allah," Farizah said, flashing that fearless smile of hers. I looked at her and smiled in return, then shook her hand. I guess I held onto it a second longer than considered socially acceptable, for Farizah touched my shoulder with her other hand, and I nodded, and then let go. Call me Mr. Awkward...

"My pleasure, Farizah, hope to see you around as well," I replied politely, like the good Haitian lad my parents raised me to be. Farizah smiled and walked away, and I watched as she left the computer area and headed for the doors. Pausing at the elevator, she punched a button and then waited. A smile crept into my face as Farizah disappeared from view. Nice ass, I thought, wryly amused and intrigued at the same time...

A cursory search on Facebook revealed that Farizah Isazadeh does have a profile, but hasn't updated it in like three months. Let's see what we have here. Pictures of Farizah wearing a hijab and a traditional Islamic skirt. Shots of her in a tank top and booty shorts at a bar which I recognized as Oliver's, the on-campus pub. The gal was doing shots with a bunch of young women. A picture of Farizah wearing a red shirt and white miniskirt while holding onto the Canadian flag. The caption read Canada Day on the Rideau canal. Hmmm. This gal is very interesting. According to her profile, Farizah was born in West Azerbaijan, northwestern Iran, on November 2, 1994. As of 2017, Farizah is twenty three years old. Nice...

"Pleased to meet you today," I wrote, and then sent the message to Farizah Isazadeh's mailbox. I also sent her a friend request. I resumed watching Star Trek online, and also got a head start on the Law assignment that is due in two weeks time. I'm in my fourth year in the program and soon I'll be out of here. I'm already looking at different law schools. The University of Ottawa has a good law school, as do Queen's University, the University of Toronto and York University. Not sure about moving to Toronto, though...

"What do you know? I may have myself a stalker, and a cute one at that," read the message from Farizah Isazadeh as it flashed on my inbox, a few minutes later. I smiled as I read it. For a woman who claims not to use social media, Farizah sure replies fast. I was grinning from ear to ear when she accepted my friend request. Now we're in business, I thought hopefully.

"Nah, I'm just curious that's all," I replied, and added a smiley face for effect, and then clicked send. I waited for Farizah's reply, and she seemed to be amused. Just like that, we began chatting. I learned that she was on the bus, on her way to South Keys where she worked as a bookstore clerk. The gal reads, I thought with a smile. I'm starting to like her already...

That's why I made a coffee date with Farizah for the upcoming Friday, and you know what? The lady actually accepted. We met for coffee at the Starbucks in South Keys, not far from the O-Train Station and afterwards, we went for a walk. I rent an apartment in Barrhaven, and I used to live in Orleans with my parents. South Keys is definitely not my neck of the woods, so I enjoyed walking around someplace new with someone new...

"Nice to see you can loosen up, handsome, you seemed so tense on the bus and in the library the other day," Farizah said, grinning as we walked by the local TD Bank, continuing with our tour of South Keys. The young Iranian woman looked pretty good in a long-sleeved blue shirt and tight-fitting black Yoga pants, complete with black leather boots. It was not exactly warm outside, but Farizah had the same habit that a lot of white folks do. Miss Iran seemed oblivious to the semi-cold weather...

"Well, I wasn't having the best of days," I replied, and then I took off my black leather jacket and casually offered it to Farizah. Grinning, Farizah shrugged and draped my jacket over her shoulders. We continued with our walk, and then went back to the station about an hour later. Folks, I can honestly say that Farizah Isazadeh of Iran intrigues me and I want to get to know her better...

"Your day improved significantly, handsome, you met me that day, remember?" Farizah said with a smirk, and I smiled at her, nodding vigorously in agreement. For some reason, the gal linked her arm with mine. I was surprised but did not resist. Arm in arm we made our way back to the station, and once there, after a memorable couple of hours together, Farizah and I parted ways. I didn't want to give her a lame handshake, so I kissed her on the cheek in the Haitian manner.

"See you soon," I said to a surprised Farizah, who smiled faintly at me. I grinned, and winked at her, totally trying to be cool and whatnot, then I made my way to the train station. For once I didn't have to wait long. The train pulled into the station, and I got in. I showed my U-Pass to the uniformed fare inspectors, two guys and an older woman, and then went to sit in the middle. I sat there, looking out the window. People walked by, doing their thing. I didn't really see them. I thought of Farizah...and I smiled. A lot.

Ladies and gentlemen, that's how it all began. My life-changing relationship with Farizah Isazadeh, the mesmerizing young Iranian woman who blew me away. Over the next couple of months, we learned a lot about each other. Farizah and I got to know one another real world, and we made quite a pair. The taciturn, introverted, neurotic loner who's brilliant and deeply sensitive yet hides it beneath a gruff exterior...and the wild, outgoing and fearless gal who's ruled by her passions.

"Woman, are you trying to kill me?" I asked Farizah, and the lovely temptress grinned mischievously, as she lay on top of me, a look of wry amusement in her dark eyes. We lay on my bed, having come home real late after a night at the movies. We'd made out on the bus after seeing the movie Split at the Scotiabank theater in the east end, and rode it all the way to Barrhaven. Once there, we somehow made it to my place, and believe me, I did not get any rest...

"Maybe," Farizah said coyly, and she kissed me again. I gently stroked her lovely face, and she bit her lip. I wonder what's going on in that mind of hers. My hands roamed all over her curvaceous loveliness, pausing at her supremely fine ass. I simply love her ass, and she knows it. Farizah indeed purred like a kitten as I caressed that ass, then playfully smacked it.