Love from a to Z

Can you meet me at the museum? In an hour?
Surprised because I’d written off seeing Zayneb today, knowing her mom
had arrived this morning, I read the message again.
I thought she’d be spending time at home with her family. And that I’d be
going to dinner with them tomorrow, after Hanna’s birthday thing, so that I
could meet Zayneb’s mom.
But here is another day with Zayneb in it. I tapped quickly into the
phone, in case she changed her mind. 
For sure. By the fountain?
Yes. She followed it up with a wave emoji.
Dad and Hanna were out, so I didn’t have a ride.
I was about to open Uber but then remembered someone.
Zahid.
• • •
“Adam, you look wonderful.” He got out of the driver’s seat to look at me.
I went forward to shake his hand but then opened my arms for a hug.
“Thanks, Zahid. Uncle Zahid, I mean,” I added with a laugh.
“I’m so glad you called me. Not only for my taxi service. But also as a
nephew, huh?” He broke his return hug to smile at me, and I saw that his
face was a lined brown one with a full mustache and dark twinkling eyes.
It was exactly the type of kind face I’d imagined. “Yeah, thanks, Uncle.”
“You feeling better?”
“Much better.”
“Your family knows? They’re helping you?”

---

“Yeah.” I got in the front seat, lay my Marvels and Oddities journal on
my lap, and buckled up.
He said a prayer before starting, muttering it quietly, and I joined in, my
words meeting his.
Finishing, he looked at me for a second before turning the steering wheel
to edge out. “You know this?”
“Yes, the dua? I’m Muslim, Zahid.” I laughed. “I guess I should have
said assalamu alaikum first, so you knew.”
“Walaikum musalam wa rahmathullahi wabarakatha hu,” he said,
returning my salaam with a nobler greeting of peace.
I smiled at his benevolence.
“You are Malaysian or Indonesian?”
“No.” I shook my head. “I’m Canadian. But my father’s family is
originally from China and my mother’s from Finland.”
“Ah. Okay.” Zahid gave me a thumbs-up.
“Listen, Uncle Zahid. My father wanted me to invite you for dinner one
day soon. He knows about how you helped me. Will you come?”
“Oh, there’s no need for that, Adam. Why did you tell him?”
“It’ll make him very happy. And me, too. And my sister.”
“And your mother? And what about her?”
“She passed away. But she would have been happy to see you.”
Zahid drove for a bit, thinking. “Okay, tell me the date for this dinner,
and I’ll make the time.”
“Thanks.”
“But then you have to come to my house too. And meet my family—my
kids are young, but they will like you. They are learning to speak English.”
I nodded, glad to repay his kindness in whatever way I could.
• • •
As I entered the foyer of the museum, I marveled at how different these
steps of mine were compared to the ones I’d taken here on Sunday.
MS was unreliable, but I vowed to enjoy the good days. And the good in
every day.
Today was a doubly special day. I was feeling fine, both physically and
emotionally, plus I was getting to see Zayneb unexpectedly.
After passing the epic staircase, I looked ahead, and there she was.

---

At a table by the fountain, facing me, but not seeing me, surrounded by
other tables bustling with people.
Her head was bent over a book on the table, the pen in her hand moving
swiftly across the page.
Writing. She was writing.
Was it in her journal?
I had my own in my hand now—I’d taken it with me to show it to her
finally—and felt thrilled at the prospect that she had hers, too.
“Ahem, Zayneb, would you be writing your marvels? Or oddities?” I
placed my journal on the table and pulled out the chair across from her.
Her pen paused, and she looked at my journal, titling her head to read its
title, a dawning, surprised expression taking over her face.
Then she looked up, stunned. “What . . . is that? Adam?”
I took a seat and smiled. “My Marvels and Oddities journal. I’ve been
recording the good things in life since I was fourteen. And the weird things.
Lately, more weird. Well, lately until I knew a certain H
2
O liked me back.
Now it’s all marvelous.”
“I’m going to scream. Like literally scream.” She closed the book she’d
been writing in and held up the orange cover. MARVELS AND ODDITIES it
announced in big, capital letters. “ADAM, I’VE BEEN WRITING IN THIS
FOR TWO YEARS!”
“And me, four years.” I grinned at the way her eyes were wider than ever.
“Well, not this exact one. I’m on my fifth notebook.”
“I CANNOT BELIEVE IT.” She stopped and closed her eyes. “Wait.
What does this mean?”
I put my elbows on the table and leaned forward. “It means we have
something in common.”
She opened her eyes and nodded.
“And it’s an amazing thing to have in common,” I went on.
She nodded again, peering at my tiny-fonted, lowercased marvels and