What We Learned Along the Way (5 page)

Mariam wasn’t used to dining alone. It felt
awkward. Even though there were only about five people in the
entire restaurant, she felt like all five of them were looking at
her.

“As salaam alaikum, may I take your order?”
Mariam was surprised to see a Muslim waiter, and a handsome one at
that.

“Wa alaikum salaam, you think I could have a
few more minutes?” she asked with a smile.

“No problem. My name is Isaiah. Just give me
a yell when you’re ready.” Mariam watched him as he walked back
toward the kitchen.

What am I doing?

Just because I’m mad at Rashad doesn’t mean I
should be staring down other men. She turned her attention back to
the menu. Everything looked so good. She saw about six things she
wanted on the appetizer list alone. After going back and forth for
a few minutes, she narrowed it down to three choices. From there,
the final decision would come from quick game of Einy Meeny Miny
Moe. Isaiah noticed her struggling to make a decision and decided
to offer some help.

“Can’t decide, huh?” he said with a little
laugh. She was so into her entrée selection that she was startled
when he spoke to her. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I
just thought you could use some help.” Mariam looked up and was
comforted by his kind smile. “I know it’s pretty early, but shrimp
alfredo is our most popular dish. If you’re into pastas, you might
want to try it.”

“Uh, what else do you have? I’m allergic to
shrimp.”

“Oh, okay. Well, that changes things. I
really like the grilled chicken sandwich. It has the chef’s secret
sauce,” he said trying to persuade her.

“Secret sauce? I’m not too sure how I feel
about that. I usually like to know what I’m eating,” she said in a
flirtatious voice.

“Yeah, me too, but after I tasted it, I
didn’t care anymore. It’s so good I almost got fired for trying to
sneak some home.” Mariam laughed and hoped he was joking, but from
the look in his eyes, she could tell he was. She took one last look
at the menu. “So, can I get you to trust me?” he asked.

“I think I will,” she said. “But, if I hate
it. It’s your fault.” While she was waiting for her food, her phone
rang.

“Hey, honey, sorry about breakfast.” Usually
she loved the sound of Rashad’s voice, but at that moment, it was
annoying.

“It’s okay. I still got my breakfast,” she
said in a flat voice.

“So, you cooked? That’s cool. What’d you
make?”

“Nothing. I’m at Bertino’s.”

“Bertino’s!” he yelled. “How could you go to
another restaurant? That’s my competition!” One of the main things
Mariam did not like about Rashad was how competitive he was when it
came to his restaurant. For the past two years, she had given up on
all other restaurants, eating breakfast, lunch and dinner at Starr
with Rashad. Finally, she was somewhere else, and he didn’t like it
at all.

“Relax, Rashad. You were busy, and I didn’t
want to bother you.” She tried to stay calm. The truth was that her
decision to go to Bertino’s had nothing to do with her not wanting
to bother him, and everything to do with her not wanting to see
him. But she knew telling him that would only add to his anger.
Plus, she could feel herself getting irritated, and she didn’t want
to get in an argument in the middle of a restaurant, even if it was
almost empty.

“I’m over here working extra hours so I can
marry you and you’re giving your money to the competition?” Mariam
felt bad. Could that be why he had been acting weird and working
odd shifts?

I should have just stayed home, she thought.
“I’m sorry, Rashad. If I knew it would bother you this much, I
wouldn’t have come.”

“How could you not know, Mariam? I work at
Starr, which means every other place that isn’t Starr is considered
competition.” His words were cold. “I’m the head chef. How would
that look if people found out my fiancé was out eating overcooked
pasta from Bertino’s?” She didn’t like his tone, but she was happy
he called her his fiancé.

“Wait, you said fiancé. You haven’t even
proposed.” She was confused.

“I shouldn’t have to. We’ve been together two
years. What else would you be? My girlfriend?” The whole time they
had been together, Mariam never referred to Rashad as her
boyfriend. She knew that term was unacceptable in the Muslim
community, and the last thing she needed was a bunch of people from
her mosque talking about her.

“I just wasn’t sure. You’ve been acting so
weird lately and I just thought…” She paused. Then she tried to
finish her sentence. “I just thought…” The tears she was fighting
back made it hard to talk. She didn’t know why she was crying.
After all, this was good news. He wanted to marry her. That’s what
she wanted, wasn’t it? Mariam didn’t know what she wanted anymore.
All she knew was that she didn’t like his attitude, and that the
waiter was really cute.

“You just thought what, Mariam? What did you
think?” he said in a hostile voice.

“I don’t know what I thought, Rashad. I don’t
know anything right now. I really don’t feel like having this
conversation. I’ll call you later.” She hung up the phone before he
had a chance to respond. She had never hung up on Rashad before,
but she knew he wouldn’t like it. They’d probably have a whole new
argument because of it, but at that moment, she didn’t care. She
saw Isaiah walking towards her table with her food, and she tried
to get herself together. She ran both hands over her facing, trying
to wipe away all signs of the conversation she’d just had.

She pulled out a mirror and patted on a
little extra makeup to hide the puffiness in her eyes. “Smells
good,” she said as he placed the food on the table.

“Would you mind if I sat down for a second? I
hurt my knee on the track yesterday, and it’s been bothering me all
morning,” Isaiah asked.

“No, I don’t mind at all. Have a seat. I
noticed you said the track. You’re a runner?”

“Yes. It kind of runs in the family. Both my
parents run and my sisters, too. I usually try to do around ten
miles a week. What about you?”

“I definitely don’t do ten miles a week, but,
yes, I do run. I like to jog in the mornings. It really helps with
stress.”

“You got that right. I always have to run a
few extra miles around finals week. I’m not the best test
taker.”

“Oh, you’re in school? Where do you go?”

“I was going to a community college, but I
just transferred to Smithson.”

Mariam was shocked. “Really? I go there, too.
I’ve never seen you around.”

“I’m only taking two classes this semester,
so I don’t spend that much time on campus.” Before they knew it,
the two of them had spent 15 minutes talking. They only stopped
because Isaiah’s boss said he was needed in the back. “Be right
there,” he yelled over his shoulder. “It’s been really nice talking
to you…” he paused, so she could fill in her name.

“Mariam,” she said sweetly.

“Here’s my number, Mariam. If you ever want
to go running together sometime, give me a call.” He wrote his
number on a Bertino’s napkin and hurried to the back. “I’m coming,
I’m coming,” he said as he walked briskly. Mariam looked at the
number on the napkin. She wanted to give him hers, but she thought
that wouldn’t be fair to Rashad.

She went back and forth on whether or not she
should keep Isaiah’s number. “It’s just a number,” she finally
concluded. “What harm can it do?” She copied the number into her
phone and put the napkin in her pocket. There was no real need for
her to keep the napkin, but she wanted to anyway. Every time Isaiah
walked by, she looked at him out of the corner of her eye. She
tried to be as subtle as possible, but he saw her looking, mostly
because he was looking too.

While she was eating, her cell phone rang.
Another text message from Rashad. She was scared to read it, but
she did:
This better be your first and LAST time going to
another restaurant!
He spelled “last” in all caps.

“What is that? A threat?” She finished off
the last of her food and picked up her things to leave. On her way
out, she saw Isaiah. She waved at him as she walked out the door.
She opened her car door and started to get in, but she stopped and
turned around. She went back into the restaurant and looked for
Isaiah. When she saw him, she walked over to him quickly. “I forgot
to give you my number.” She slipped him a napkin and walked out the
door before she could change her mind.

Mariam couldn’t believe what she had just
done. In all the years she had been with Rashad, she had never
given her number to another man. Did that count as cheating? “How
could it be cheating?” she said to herself. “After all, Muslims
don’t have boyfriends, and I’m not married. So, technically, I have
no one to cheat on.” She smiled at her conclusion as she drove down
the street. She had to call Malikah and tell her what she’d done.
There was no way she was telling Jaime, and Aliya was probably too
busy working to talk.

After a few minutes of small talk, she got to
the point. “What would you think if Rashad and I stopped
talking?”

“I’d think the world was over and that there
was absolutely no hope for me whatsoever. Why?” Malikah asked.

“Rashad’s just been acting weird lately, not
calling as much and standing me up. And you know he has that
temper. I can’t stand that about him.”

“You said he’s been working a lot lately.
It’s probably the stress. Don’t worry. Things will get better and
you two will live happily ever after.” To Malikah, Mariam and
Rashad we’re the epitome of Muslim love and they gave her hope. She
couldn’t stand the idea of them not being together.

“It probably is the stress, but I can’t take
him blowing up on me like this. He had a fit because I went to
another restaurant for breakfast this morning. Gave me this speech
about them being the competition and how I better not go back. Who
does he think he is?”

“He thinks he’s your man. Rashad is a great
guy and if all he asks is that you support his job, then I don’t
think that’s too much to ask.” Malikah hated it when women with men
complained about them. She would die for a handsome man like
Rashad.

“You’re right. Even though I can’t stand his
attitude sometimes, he is a great guy. So, I guess I better delete
this number out of my phone,” she said.

“What number?” Malikah asked, confused.

“It’s no big deal. I met this cute, Muslim
guy at Bertino’s and he gave me his number.”

“Okay, I thought I was talking to my friend
Mariam, but I see this is some crazed woman trying to lose her
man.”

Mariam laughed. “I said it’s no big deal. I
was just mad at Rashad. Relax, I won’t call him.”

“You better not call him. Hell, you need to
give that number to me,” Malikah said jokingly.

“Maybe I should. He was really cute. Hate to
let a brother like that go to waste.”

“Girl, I was just joking. What am I going to
do? Call him up and say ‘Salaam brother, I know you gave your
number to my friend, but she decided to give to me. So what’s up?’
He would think I’m crazy.”

“Yeah, that does sound a little crazy, but
maybe I could introduce you two. We could just stop by his
restaurant and you can take it from there,” Mariam said.

“No, thanks. I’m done making a fool of myself
in front of guys. I looked so stupid yesterday in front of
Muhammad. Did you know he was married?” Malikah asked.

“No I didn’t. What happened? How did you look
stupid?”

“Don’t even ask. I don’t want to relive it.”
Malikah was still a little shaken up from the news. When Mariam got
off the phone, she looked at Isaiah’s number on the napkin. She
knew she told Malikah she would delete it, but now she wasn’t so
sure. She deleted it once, but in less than five minutes, she had
put it right back in. She daydreamed about how fun it would be to
take a morning jog with Isaiah.

Mariam decided to take a quick nap before she
got some studying done. Just as she was starting to fall asleep,
she heard a knock at the door. She grabbed the Bertino’s napkin off
the table and stuck it in her side pocket. She was surprised to see
Rashad through the peep hole. “Gimme a minute,” she yelled as she
ran to the bathroom to freshen up. Just because she was mad at him
didn’t mean she wanted him to see her looking like she just woke
up. When she opened the door, she saw Rashad standing there in his
chef’s uniform with a dozen roses and a big smile.

“I’m sorry, Mariam. I didn’t mean to yell at
you like that. I was just angry,” he said, giving her his best
puppy dog eyes. She hated when he made her mad and then gave her
those irresistible puppy dog eyes. Still, she wasn’t ready to give
in that easily. She tried to look like she wasn’t all that
impressed with his apology. “So, can I come in?”

“I guess,” she said, trying not to smile. She
flopped on the sofa and hung her head low like she was sad. She was
happy he was apologizing, but his attitude was getting out of
control and he needed to do a little more begging before she
forgave him. He sat beside her and put his hand on her
shoulder.

“I know, I know. Sometimes I get out of
control. I’m working on that. Please, don’t cry.” She looked up at
him for a second. He did look sincere in his apology. She was
surprised at how well she was playing the sad girl role. She even
managed to squeeze out a few tears.

If this thing doesn’t work out in
Chicago, there’s always Hollywood.

After she felt that he had apologized enough,
she looked up, wiped her fake tears, and gave him a hug. They spent
the rest of the evening making chocolate chip cookies and watching
movies. She loved moments like this. They let her know she loved
him.

“Want anything from the fridge?” she said as
she got up and walked into the kitchen.