Love from A to Z(9)

Plus something else, like me.

I think what pinged CUTE GUY ALERT immediately was the way his face was angular, including a perfect jawline, and inaccessible-seeming, but then his expression was so open.

Like the first time we locked gazes, his eyes had looked lively somehow.

Like he wasn’t closed up.

Like there’s this easy smile on his face, even while reading his laptop screen.

His hair was—okay, that’s all. He saw me looking at him a few times, so I’m going to stop.

Besides, if my big sister, Sadia, were here with me, she would text, Lower your gaze like a good Muslim, Zu-zu.





ADAM


THURSDAY, MARCH 7


MARVEL: SMILES


I LOOKED AT MY FIRST marvel entry, at the very beginning of my Marvels and Oddities journal, which I’d uploaded onto my laptop, and it was trees. That’s when I was sketching in my journal, so there were tiny drawings of a few tree specimens found in Doha.

Every subsequent marvel entry was an observable item like sand, birds, water, potatoes, and a whole long entry on rocks when Hanna got crazy over them. Typical thoughts recorded by someone who loved cataloging things. Almost entirely nature-oriented observations.

I guess at some point it was natural I would move on to less-tangible things. That point occurred just this past year, when I noticed the things I needed to hold on to, marvels you couldn’t necessarily grasp in your hands.

Like smiles. And how instantaneously a genuine one can set you at ease.

The brilliant-blue-hijabed girl stopped tapping away on her phone and pulled out her Marvels and Oddities journal, propped it on her carry-on suitcase, and began writing in it without pause, without glancing around, a frown on her face.

I was still floored that we had the same journal, so I kept stealing glances at her. And then she stopped with her pen to her lips and looked straight at me.

Luckily, I saw it coming and moved my eyes in time. I hope.

At one point I had this sudden urge to strike up conversation: Isn’t it weird we’re doing the exact same thing? Recording marvels and oddities?

Isn’t it absolutely wild?

But I let it pass, and then the flight happened.

And the smile happened.

? ? ?

Around midpoint in the flight, I got up to use the bathroom, and there she was—sitting in the very last row in a single seat, almost right across from the bathroom. She had the reading light turned on above her, so she was bathed in its glow, her face—big eyes now behind round glasses—lit.

When she looked up and saw my tall self advancing toward the back of the plane, I nodded at her for some reason.

Great.

Creepy guy on plane.

I had to explain the nod.

It was basically the Muslim-to-Muslim nod, but, looking at me, she probably didn’t think I was Muslim.

Without a marker like a skullcap or something, it’s sometimes hard to distinguish us Muslim guys.

So as I got right across from her seat, I said, “Assalamu alaikum,” and disappeared into the bathroom.

“Walaikum musalam,” she said when I emerged. “I hadn’t realized you were Muslim. Sorry.”

Bam.

“Yes. Since I was eleven.” There was a nice space in front of the bathroom as it was also connected to a kitchenette, so I was able to face her from where I stood.

“Like my mom,” she said, tilting her head to look up.

“Your mom’s been Muslim since she was eleven too?”

“No.” She laughed. “She converted when she married my dad. Well, right before she married him. In her twenties.”

“Aha,” I said real sagely. I crossed my arms and looked down the aisle. Someone was coming to use the bathroom.

“But wow, you, at eleven years old? I’ve never heard of that.” She tilted her head again, her eyes even wider. “A little kid converting.”

And then she smiled. Big, open, and honest.

I indicated the guy heading our way. “Maybe I’ll tell you about it . . . on my next bathroom break?”

She laughed again.

? ? ?

Back in my seat I decided my next bathroom break would be in forty minutes. I watched an episode of some reality show where contestants had to drive cars that they’d tinkered with to make more powerful, and then bent to retrieve my journal from the duffel bag.

I had to show her the cover. Marvels and Oddities.

? ? ?

There were a few people waiting for the bathroom now, so I joined the line until I noticed that the girl was sleeping, her arms crossed in front of her chest, her face lying on a pillow she’d propped next to the window.

I glanced away—it felt weird to look at someone sleeping. And then I went back to my seat.

? ? ?

The next time I ventured back there, she wasn’t in her seat. Maybe she was in the bathroom herself.

I put the journal back in my duffel.

? ? ?

I thought I’d try one more time. I didn’t care that everyone around me must have thought I had diarrhea or something, the amount of times I was making my way back there.

I don’t know why I just had to show her the journal—maybe to let her know there were two of us?

No, I think maybe it was to see that smile again.

? ? ?

The flight attendants were blocking the aisle with the food cart. I ended up taking a few steps toward them before returning to my seat.