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  She wondered why he’d even bothered to call her beautiful. She wasn’t the sort of woman that men preferred. She was short, dark-complexioned with short hair, no breasts to speak of, and very little booty. And, for the past year, she’d worn a perpetual scowl. Since Brandon had dumped her for that white girl, Heaven no longer remembered how to smile.

  Chapter Two

  As Hamid hung up the phone, the familiar ache of loneliness filled him. He missed his family and Pakistan. His cousin Ahmad’s wedding would be in three weeks and he wished he were returning home for that. But his studies would not permit it. He’d come to America to be a doctor, and now was not the time to leave. He had exams in a month. When he earned his license, he would leave and return home with the coveted honor of being a doctor licensed in America, as opposed to one who’d only done his studies there. Then he would allow his family at last to find him a mate.

  Hamid smiled. They had begun whispering even in his presence. He was past marrying age and, by now, should have had a baby or two. He had been fighting marriage stubbornly because, somewhere in his gut, he longed for a woman he could fall in love with. Unfortunately it didn’t work that way in his culture. There would be no heart-pounding awareness, no sudden burst of lust, no erection that spoke of his desire. It would be a call made, a visit, an exchange of money and jewels, and Hamid would have his bride. They would remain together, maybe for life. Divorce wasn’t uncommon, but Hamid had hopes for a marriage that would last forever.

  His hand slid beneath the sheets as he tried to imagine the face of his bride, her lovely long black, silky hair, the incense perfuming her body and the ripeness that promised to bear many children.

  But as his hand moved up and down, it wasn’t the face of a Pakistani woman that he saw, but the dark skin of the angry woman he’d met the day before. He climaxed while trying to wipe her face from his memory. But it was too late, she wouldn’t go away.

  Hamid wiped his hand on the sheet, disgusted, not by his release but by the fact that a stranger had participated in bringing him satisfaction. His only grace was the woman didn’t know. He couldn’t help smiling. If she could read minds, he was sure she would send a death ray straight to his heart.

  His eyes searched for the clock and he noticed he had very little time. His cousin Sassa was coming over to help him study. At least he would have breakfast at home. He wouldn’t have to run the risk of eating in the cafeteria today or next week. He was not working today, and for the next week he would be at John Stroger Hospital. His work as a phlebotomist paid for extras. Money from home took care of most things, but Hamid liked having his own money. It allowed him more freedom in being able to say no. His father had offered to send the money for a plane ticket but Hamid had refused. He didn’t tell his father that part of it was due to the way Middle Eastern men and some women were searched in the airports since 9/11.

  It was a degrading procedure and Hamid avoided it as much as possible, afraid that one day he would lose his temper and be kicked out of the country. Then he would have failed his family and wasted tens of thousands of dollars, so he held his tongue. And he held it by not putting himself in a position where he might lose it.

  Once again, the woman with the funny hair popped into his mind. She had a temper and was not afraid to show it. Hamid rather enjoyed the freedom of that, though he didn’t like that her hostility had been directed at him. In his country she would be lucky to have only a switch taken to her for her impudence. He thought of her swatting his hand when she’d assisted with his car.

  How dare she hit him! The sting of her hand had stunned Hamid but he’d not reacted, only stared at her as though she were insane. When she’d managed to start his car, he’d remained frozen, his tongue unable to move from the roof of his mouth even to say thank you. He’d felt ignorant and foolish that a woman would know how to make his car run and he didn’t.

  He made a face, glad that he would never have to see her again, glad that she would never be the kind of woman he would marry. As a matter of fact, he felt sorry for her, and even sorrier for whatever poor man she had in her life. He’d not noticed a ring, but here in America that meant nothing. The women and men indulged easily in sex, and marriage did not seem to be the norm.

  Hamid himself had indulged his desires with several women but neither they nor he had ever considered it a relationship. Most times Hamid took care of his own needs. It was easier, no involvement.

  He took his shower quickly, even though the sudden urge for a woman that smelled faintly of lemons lingered in his mind, tempting him.

  He toweled dry and made his own breakfast, once again thinking of the day he would have a wife to do these things for him. It would make it easier for him to do the things he had to do to follow his path.

  When the knock sounded on his door, Hamid was glad for the respite; his mind could now stop wandering roads he could never travel in real life.

  “What’s up?” His cousin Sassa smiled at him, clapping him on the shoulder. “Are you ready to study?”

  “Do you know about cars?” Hamid asked.

  “Yes, go to the dealer, see the one you like, buy it, and drive.”

  Hamid laughed for a moment before turning serious. “I mean, do you know anything about fixing them?”

  “Why?”

  “My car wouldn’t start yesterday when I was ready to leave the hospital.”

  “Why didn’t you just call the tow truck?”

  “A truck came and helped me, but I want to know how to do it.”

  “Why?”

  “In case it happens again,” Hamid said a bit impatiently.

  “You’re going to be a doctor, not a mechanic.”

  “That doesn’t mean that I shouldn’t know the basics about how to repair my car.” Sassa was staring at him as though he’d grown two heads.

  “When would you have the time to learn all of this?”

  “Sassa, I’m not talking about building a car. I’m merely asking if you know how to start one with a dead battery.” He watched while his cousin grinned. When he answered yes, Hamid was suspicious. “Are you sure?”

  “How would you know the difference?”

  The words packed a punch. That was what the woman had said to him. Hamid wanted to know the difference. “I’m serious,” he said, narrowing his eyes and glaring at his cousin. “Do you know how to do it?”

  He could tell from the glint in Sassa’s eyes that he didn’t. “Do you know anyone who can help us?”

  “I thought you wanted me to help you study.”

  “That can wait. This is more important.”

  “Fixing a car?”

  “Yes,” Hamid replied. “Come on, Sassa, you know everyone. Don’t you know someone who can help?”

  “Let me make a call.”

  Hamid turned away while his cousin made several calls. The fact that Sassa didn’t know meant he was not the only male in America who did not know about cars. That made Hamid feel better.

  “Hamid, my friend’s uncle knows how to fix a dead battery. He said for us to come over before he goes to work.”

  “What time?”

  Sassa looked at his watch. “He leaves at two. That gives us a few hours.”

  “I want to go and buy the tools.” Hamid ignored Sassa’s frown. “I know what I need: jumper cables and a wrench.” He remembered she called it an open-end wrench.

  “He probably has those.”

  “But I don’t. And I need a battery terminal cleaner.”

  “What? Hamid, what’s going on? Why do you need all of this?”

  Hamid thought of what to tell his cousin without lying. “The owner of the truck treated me as though I were an imbecile. I didn’t like it.”

  “Did the guy know that in Pakistan you are worth more than the president of this country?”

  “What does that have to do with anything? I still required help to fix my car.”

  “But back home you would have servants to do this for you. Why do you
need to learn this? You should have told the ass where to go.”

  “I didn’t say the owner was an ass.” Hamid was cringing inwardly. There was no way he was going to admit that the owner of the truck was a woman. Still, he wouldn’t allow Sassa to malign her character either.

  “Then why would you let a dumb mechanic upset you?” Sassa’s nostrils flared with anger at the injustice that had been done to one of his favorite cousins.

  “Because this mechanic could fix my car and I couldn’t,” Hamid replied, “and neither can you, so you need to learn as well.”

  Sassa scowled, insulted at Hamid’s words even though they were true. “I know how to give a jump.”

  “I thought you didn’t.”

  “I was kidding.”

  “Do you have cables?”

  “No, but that doesn’t mean anything.”

  Hamid knew that it did. The woman had the tools she needed in the back of her truck. Neither he nor Sassa carried anything more than a phone to repair their car, and yesterday even his phone had not worked.

  “Let’s go to AutoZone.” Hamid smiled and headed out of the door.

  * * *

  An hour later, the pair returned to Hamid’s apartment and positioned their cars in the parking lot. Sassa opened up the hood of his car and smiled at Hamid. “Now I will show you that I know how to start a car.”

  “But does it work if the cars are already running?”

  “Of course.”

  Hamid watched while Sassa hooked the cables up to his own car. It looked pretty much like the way the woman had done it, though Hamid wasn’t sure.

  He lifted the hood of his car and turned just in time to see the cables spark and Sassa drop them on the ground, where they continued sparking. Hamid ran to Sassa’s car and yanked the cables from the battery. “What did you do?” he yelled, his heart thundering in his chest.

  “Nothing, I didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “You had to. That didn’t happen when the…it didn’t happen yesterday.” Hamid blew out a breath in frustration. He watched his cousin fiddling with the cable, jumping back as they touched and sparked again. He drummed on the fender of the car and looked away from Sassa. Sassa hissed.

  “Well, the guy is an expert and I’m not. I don’t know what happened. I did it right.”

  “You couldn’t have. Do you know you could have destroyed both of our cars doing that?” Hamid bit his lip, then exhaled his frustration. “And you still think you don’t need to learn car repair?”

  * * *

  Three hours later Hamid felt confident that he could now restart any car that only had a dead battery. He smiled to himself, hoping for the chance to run into the woman who had not told him her name as he had offered his.

  “Thank you,” Hamid said, grinning. “I think we’re set.”

  As an added bonus, the uncle had taught them how to change a flat tire and how to put more air in when it was flat. He’d done it by allowing them to take off the valve cap, place their thumbs directly over the valve stem, and use their fingernail to push the stem to one side, allowing the air to escape. Hamid and Sassa had watched in amazement as the tire went flat and could barely contain themselves as they refilled the tire with the air pump. Hamid knew he would make another trip to the auto parts store. He would buy an air pump.

  “You two behave like children. It’s hard to imagine you have never done this, or seen it done. Unbelievable,” the uncle teased.

  This banter Hamid could take. Besides, it didn’t matter, for now he knew how to jump start a car, and no one would laugh at him again. An image of the black woman came to him and he imagined her scowl slowly changing into a smile. His heart lurched a bit but he shook himself. Her smile was only in his imagination.

  “So have you two learned what you wanted to know?” the uncle asked. “I have to leave for work now.”

  “Thank you,” Sassa laughed.

  “Thank you,” Hamid mimicked, “you have done more today than you’re aware of, and we are in your debt.”

  Beni looked at him strangely before Sassa spoke. “The tow truck driver, that’s why we came.” He shrugged, “Hamid wants to prove we’re as good as a guy that drives a tow truck.”

  Hamid only smiled. He wanted to prove he was as good as a woman that drove a dark blue SUV with a sticker he’d noticed that said, ‘Nurses do it with precision,’ with a picture of a nurse wielding a needle. Hamid would never forget that picture. He’d stared at it the entire time the woman was working on his car, making him feel inept. Now he could only hope that one day fate would allow him to return the favor.

  Chapter Three

  Heaven took in a whiff of the orange-glazed ribs Peaches was eating. When the tangy barbeque sauce from the pork sandwiches wafted toward her from the sandwiches Latanya and Ongela were eating, Heaven couldn’t prevent the longing glances she cast toward her friends’ plates. She glanced at her own plate, at her chicken salad, and remembered why she was eating it. Hamid.

  Laughter brought her back to the present. She looked at her friends. “What?” she asked, knowing they had been laughing at her.

  “If you want some ribs or a pork sandwich, just order it,” Ongela said, grinning at her.

  “I can’t. Ever since talking to that guy in the hospital I haven’t been able to eat pork.”

  “But he wasn’t the first guy to try and get you not to eat pork. What was different about him? Was he fine?”

  Like I’m really going to answer that, Heaven thought. “I don’t know. I only remember him telling me the food was going to kill me and that it had worms.”

  “Would you please,” Latanya snapped, “we’re trying to eat.”

  “See what I mean? When you’re eating and someone says something like that, it makes you lose your appetite.” Heaven glanced at her friends to make sure they got her point.

  “So what are you doing, trying to make us lose ours? Here, girl, you want some ribs, take a taste. You don’t have to eat something you don’t want, ‘cause I’m not giving up the pig.” Peaches gave Heaven a meaningful look and bit into the meaty rib she’d been waving.

  A round of high fives and hoots followed by laughter filled their area. Heaven ignored the rib her friend held out and instead dug into her salad. She would have to admit the salad was very good with the crunchy pecans, mandarin oranges, and chicken baked with crushed walnuts. It wasn’t bad at all. But then everything at Ruby’s restaurant was good.

  For a few minutes, everyone ate in silence. Then the subject of men was brought up, as it always was. The fact that Heaven was off pork was forgotten.

  “So, Heaven, how long has it been since you had a date? I hope you don’t give up eating pork as long as you’ve given up men.”

  Heaven glared in Peaches’s direction. “I haven’t given up men, but I’m not in a hurry to rush into a relationship either.”

  “You should have found a guy the very next day after Brandon dumped you. You should have jumped a white guy.”

  Heaven frowned. “Why?”

  “To get even with Brandon.”

  “You think me finding a white guy would make Brandon come back to me? And even if it did, why do you think I’d take his sorry ass back?”

  “Because we thought he was your soul mate.”

  Heaven deepened the frown. “You’ve got to be kidding. If he were my soul mate we’d be together.”

  “Don’t worry about it, the heffa is probably nasty, doing things you wouldn’t.”

  Heaven looked at Ongela but didn’t answer immediately. She never got into her sex life. It wasn’t her friends’ business. If they wanted to tell her all about theirs, that was on them. She shrugged her shoulders. “Who knows?” she said, making her answer as non-committal as possible.

  “Look, don’t pretend that his going with that stank heffa isn’t killing you.”

  “It bothers me, but it bothers me more that I wasted so much of my time with him on a dream that was going nowhere. But hey, if he�
��s happy, more power to him.”

  “You know the thing that I can’t get is that black men will have a fit if they see us with a man that’s not black. They’ll almost come to blows. I’ve been called a bitch more times than I care to remember. Hell, at one time when I was dating Tim, I thought bitch was my name.”

  They all laughed before Heaven rolled her eyes and asked Peaches, “Is that why you swore never again? You couldn’t put up with it?”

  “I know it’s my business, but I don’t like having a brotha look at me like I’m a traitor.” Peaches took another bite of her ribs. “Black men have enough problems without us emasculating them.”

  “That’s their problem,” Latanya cut in. “We want to protect them from the world and we’ve made them into cripples that we don’t even want. They think nothing of dating or marrying anything with a…excuse me, they don’t mind doing whatever they think they’re big enough to do. Then they want to write books and brag about being on the down low, as though we’re supposed to give them a prize.

  “And they think we should admire them for the courage to come out and say it but they don’t want to come out and admit to being gay. No, they were just curious, or bi. That’s a load of crap.”

  “Yeah we almost have to go outside of the black man if we want a man.” Ongela almost shouted, wanting to be heard after Latanya’s tirade.

  “But I don’t want to,” Heaven insisted. “I love black men.”

  “So do I.” Ongela chimed in.

  One by one, the women voiced their choices and Heaven reaffirmed for herself that if there was someone else for her it would be a black man, or no man. She would not do what Brandon had done.

  “But a sista can look, can’t she? I mean sometimes a little looking is good for the soul.” Peaches laughed, putting her hand up for high-fives.

  “Like cheesecake,” Heaven piped in, grinning at Ongela. “It looks good but I don’t have any desire to taste it.”

  “So the dot-head—”

  The words grated across her brain and she turned in Peaches’s direction. “Don’t go there,” Heaven stopped her.