"So, your name is Fartuun Asif and you've got a habit of farting at the worst possible times, man, that's absolutely frigging priceless," says my roommate/girlfriend Catherine Malemba, laughing merrily. We were sitting in the living room of our shared apartment in the Glebe area of downtown Ottawa, Ontario. Just two young women smoking shisha, relaxing in front of the TV on a rather dull Friday night.
I'd just survived my first brush with midterm madness at the University of Ottawa, and considered myself lucky to be alive. Catherine and I sat in the living room, watching an episode of Big Bang Theory. The one where one of my favorite television nerds gets bullied by the other astronauts on the Space Station. I was laughing a bit too hard, I guess, when the unthinkable happened.
"Whatever, Cat, you fart too," I said, shrugging, and I rolled my eyes at her. Five feet eleven inches tall, sturdy and curvy, with light brown skin, long curly dark hair styled in a thick Afro and lime-green eyes, Catherine can be considered attractive by almost any standard. The kind of woman that both men and women can't help but feel drawn to. I envy her, but not just for her looks. Catherine is free-spirited, open-minded and outgoing in ways I could never hope to be...
Born in the City of Toronto, Ontario, to a Congolese immigrant father, Carl Malemba, and an Italian-Canadian mother, Fiona Garibaldi, Catherine has got that unique hotness that a lot of mixed-race gals possess. Like my old crush, the singer Alicia Keys, for example. I've always known in my heart and soul that I love women, though for the longest time, I hated myself for it. I didn't think I could be a good Muslim woman and a lesbian. Let's just say that Catherine taught me otherwise...
"Yeah, but dammit, Fartuun, you've got to admit that was funny, shoot, it sounded like a motorcycle going off," Catherine replied, still laughing, and I sighed, wishing my favorite cutie would drop the subject. Catherine and I are best friends, but we have very different tastes as far as humor is concerned. I put down the shisha, and focused on the TV, trying my best to ignore Catherine. I flipped the channel, and switched to Space.
There was an old episode of Supernatural on the tube. The Winchester brothers were taking on something called a Leviathan, with the help of a certain gorgeous, red-haired lesbian nerd. Great episode, truly. I'm glad to see more gay and lesbian characters on TV, and not just in comedies or dramas but horror and science fiction as well. I remember watching Buffy The Vampire Slayer when I was younger. I had a total crush on both Tara and Willow. Awesome couple, these two.
"Leave my ass alone," I said tersely to Catherine, and I got up and walked ten meters to the kitchen, and got myself a beer from the fridge. Yes, I'm a Hijab-wearing Somali chick and I drink beer. Alexander Keith's beer is my favorite brand. If you don't like it, you can kiss my fat ass. I sat down and took a swig, then wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. I sensed Catherine staring at me, and sighed. What on earth does Little Miss Nosey want now?
"I can't, bae, I'm addicted to your ass," Catherine said coyly, and I looked at her, and smiled. For she was giving me the let's-get-busy look. I licked my lips, and leaned back on the couch. Catherine dropped on all fours, and crawled her way towards me. I watched, mesmerized as Catherine stopped in front of me. I was still wearing the long, traditional Islamic skirt I'd put on to go to Jummah prayers at the central mosque earlier, along with an old sweatshirt.
