Love from a to Z

ODDITY:
THE FRIENDS YOU’RE DEALT
This may be an awful thing to say, but none of the guys I hung around with
in Doha before university were friends I’d choose on my own. We were
kind of thrown together, and it’s the law of third-culture kids, kids going to
school in a country other than the one they called home, that you friend-up
fast, with whatever people you’re dealt. Otherwise you get overtaken by the
isolation that comes from navigating a new place that you know will be
temporary.
Living with your parents while they work abroad is sort of like a long
vacation you’re sentenced to, with the promise you’ll be coming home
again one day. It’s not truly home, and yet you’re expected to make it
comfy.
Most of the other kids at DIS were children of oil industry executives
from England, the US, or Australia, or professors at the many offshoot
American-college campuses in Doha.
Most of them took their sentencing in Doha as a way to have tons of fun
—well the tons that were available in Qatar.
Which meant each week we watched the same, limited-fare choice of
movies at the theaters, sometimes over and over again. Ate at the same best
burger places. Went dune buggy riding when a parent offered to take us.
And hung out at the same people’s houses, usually the hugest houses in our
circle of friends.
For some reason, the circle I ended up with consisted of people who were
loud, easily excited about movies and music, and into nothing I was into.
But they were also squeaky-clean. Meaning I didn’t have to compromise
anything with them—like my being a practicing Muslim. They were okay
not boozing and, other than a couple who smoked once in a while, were not
into drugs, either.

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They were the clean crew at DIS. But that was the only way we were
similar.
They say friends are the family you choose.
And yeah, I guess that’s sort of true, if family is made up of people you
put up with because they care about you and you them.
• • •
“Remember we thought Madison and Jacob wouldn’t last?” Connor drove
fast, navigating a roundabout while weaving to get to the exit lane as
quickly as he could. He was roommates with Madison at UC Berkeley,
having been best friends with her throughout DIS. “They did.”
“That’s cool.”
“College on two different continents. And they did it. Well, Madison did
it. She was the one skyping Jacob every single night.” We were approaching
the mall. “Did you meet anyone?”
“Nope.”
“I sure did. Someone older.” He laughed, turning the steering wheel fast
to make the left turn into the parking lot. “Nancy. She’s a TA. Was my TA
for my intro to international economics course. And totally hot. Totally
older, like four years. I turned nineteen in January, so we’re legit.”
I nodded, picturing Connor with an older woman, even ten years older. It
was an easy thing to imagine.
“She knows I want to go into politics, and she’s helping me figure it out.”
“Cool.”
“Hey, by the way, your friend is going to hang with us,” he said, glancing
at me as he waited for someone to back out of a parking spot.
“Friend?”
“At your house, your dad’s party. Zee something. The girl with your little
sister, with the head scarf?”
“Zayneb?”
“Yeah, Zayneb. Forgot her name. She’s with the girls, and Emma Phillips
—who, by the way, hasn’t given up on you, according to Emma Zhang—
said they’d catch the movie with us after shopping.”
I nodded again, groaning inside, willing myself to not flip the sun visor
mirror down and check my hair in it, check if I had paint flecks on my face.
So much for my plans for today.

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So much for avoiding a fourth impression.

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