I am not a born rebel. Rebellion was something I used to frown upon. Kids just wanted attention, I thought, they were lazy, they liked to disrupt everything for their own amusement. I was one of the 'good kids', not a genius perhaps, but I followed the rules. That all changed the year my girlfriend got deported.
It was our last year of high school. We both had bright futures, but hers was the brightest. I got good grades because I was diligent and showed up to class every day. Zahra got good grades because she was a fucking genius. She could read the entire course book within a couple of weeks and not show up to class for the rest of the semester, yet she'd still ace the exam. For a year I had a shamefully possessive crush on her. Other boys flirted with her, not surprisingly, as she was incredibly beautiful; a short middle-eastern girl with curly black hair and creamy beige skin. The boys also didn't fail to notice her small but amply cushioned anterior, as plenty of the graffiti in the boy's washroom would tell you.
She was shunned by other girls in our school. A pack of the most vicious young women used to sit with her between classes and spew micro-aggressions in her vicinity: "you're hair is so smooth, I'm so glad your parents don't make you wear a head-scarf... I can't believe you're so smart, Zahra! I thought, like, women weren't allowed to go to school in Iraq." She was Iranian. Eventually, they lost interest in their games and stopped hanging around her, all except for Claire, a blonde-haired beauty who became Zahra's best friend and my personal hero.
Despite the usual tirade of adolescent bullying and sexual harassment, Zahra kept cool. She was always positive, always optimistic, and felt there was good in everyone. I, on the other hand, could not see any good in the guy making out with her behind school. I caught them while heading across the street for lunch; the guy seemed older, college level perhaps. He had her up against the wall, leaning into her. She was leaning away, and turned to face me, an awkward smile on her face while he continued to kiss her cheek. We made eye contact and I suddenly had a stupid idea.
"Hi Zahra," I said after walking over to them. I paid the guy no mind, and he seemed equally disinterested in me as he continued to kiss her neck. "I'm having trouble with this Trig assignment and I was hoping to get your help," I said, fumbling through my sentence.
"Sure!" she replied, sliding along the wall away from the product-haired man and over to me. He just watched us walk away and started lighting a cigarette.
"I'm sorry for interrupting," I said as we made our way to the student lounge.
"Don't be: you saved me."
"Umm... was everything... okay back there?" I inquired with concern.
"No, no, everything's fine. We just... had a bit of miscommunication," she trailed off.
"Communication is important I hear," I replied, sounding completely forced and awkward.
"That's very true!"
After that embarrassing exchange, we continued up the stairwell in silence while I debated what to say to her next. "I mean, that's why I don't think I could ever go out with someone who wasn't already a friend."
"Yeah, I don't know why everyone just wants to rush to get serious. They can't just hang out first, like normal." Our conversation picked up more from there, and soon we were discussing university plans, and how neither of us had any real plan for what we'd do with our lives.
"Zahra, I'm interested in getting to know you," I admitted shyly afterwards.
"Yeah, we should be... friends," she replied with a comical tilt of her head, recalling my previous comment. We both sort of chuckled and I knew then she would be special to me.
Our friendship developed as we both knew it would. Her best friend Claire was not happy about that. To her I was just another in the long line up of guys who wanted a piece of middle-eastern ass. And she wasn't entirely wrong, Zahra was attractive to me and I made no secret of it. But despite insisting my connection to Zahra was genuine, it took some time for her to come around.
"You can't date guys the last year of high-school. They'll say anything because they know they won't have to see you next year." Despite having many 'suitors', Claire remained single and celibate throughout high-school.
"You think he's only with me because he's shallow, but tell me, has he ever come on to you? Have you ever caught him so much as staring at your chest? I mean, look at them!" Zahra pointed out her plus-sized breasts, "Even I can't take my eyes off them!" Claire and Zahra would flirt like this all the time.
Claire eventually conceded that my feelings were real, and Zahra also admitted that she had been neglecting her best friend in spending so much time with me. The three of us gradually began spending time together, and I discovered Claire was nothing like her former peers. She was privileged, yes, but she acknowledged it, and never used it to make others feel small. Whereas Zahra was a confident extrovert, Claire was a shy introvert, but where Zahra had the brains, Claire had the heart. She volunteered at an elementary school nearby, and had incredible rapport with children of special needs. When Zahra and I argued, she was our mediator. When she overheard our classmates being dicks to me, she'd quickly cheer me up. "You're much hotter. You're like, top five in our school. If you were a bit more athletic, like, worked out a bit, then you'd be first by a long-shot. I'm serious! I'm not even your girlfriend so it's not even like I have to say that." That was the weekend I finally decided to use my dad's old workout bench.
I've always been a slim twig at six feet. Suddenly I felt I had a reason to look good, someone to look good for, which made finding the motivation to workout that much easier. Of course, I'm still a slim twig, just a bit more lean now. I had no desire to become the hulk and instead preferred myself a post-radioactive-spiderbite Peter Parker (he's more flexible anyways which would later come in hand), though I fancy myself more an Andrew Garfield than a Tobey Macguire.
Having Claire on our side made our last year the best we'd ever had, until of course Zahra's family got deported. Some asshole neighbor raised suspicions about 'barbaric practices' happening next door. Zahra's parents were muslim, but they weren't zealots; they let their daughter wear what she wanted, they left us alone when I was over, and were basically the return of the golden age of Islam. I was furious.
I don't know the exact details but some uncle or relative or whatever was suspected of having ties to ISIL, and the government decided there was enough 'uncertainty' towards their relationship that they had to be deported. Zahra's parents thought it was too futile to appeal and withstand months of government harassment; they were leaving and their daughter was coming with them. Claire and I were in shock.
It would be the end of our relationship. She wanted to have sex before she left. We didn't have much time so we couldn't wait for our parents to be out of town, but we both agreed it wasn't going to happen in some sketchy motel. Our planning sessions mostly consisted of making out and groping each other on her bed between crying and laughing.
"I love you," I said.
"I love you," she replied.
She decided to ask Claire if her parents' cottage was an option.
The next time I saw her I knew immediately something was wrong. She was avoiding eye contact with me as she sat on my bed. "I have to tell you something." She had seen Claire the night before. She went to ask about the cottage. Claire said she wanted us to have the weekend together because she knew it would make us happy, but it would make her sad. She didn't want her best friend to spend her last weekend with someone else, away from her.
"I've always known I was... different, in that way, you know what I mean? But then I met you, and," she wiped away a tear, "I thought I could just ignore those other feelings. You're all I need, you know that, right?" I simply nodded, and waited for her to continue. "But when she told me she loved me... I couldn't pretend I didn't feel the same way, not now that I might never see her again. We..."
"It's ok," I lied, the sting hitting hard in my gut, "She's been there for you longer than I have. You should go to the cottage. With her." I was crying too. At that moment the thought of what Zahra and Claire were doing the night before didn't excite me as much as it should have.
She threw her arms around me and kissed my forehead, pushing me back onto my bed. My family was still home, watching TV in the living room upstairs, but it no longer seemed to matter. "I want you," she whispered. "I want both of you."
The sex was brief and awkward, with some head-bumping and uncomfortable positioning, but we held each other for hours after, kissing, crying, and ultimately laughing. Our conversation drifted to all the good times we'd had that year, which naturally drifted toward Claire who was a part of most of them.
"I'm not jealous," I said after some silence, this time honestly. "I probably will be upset after you leave, but right now we don't have time for jealousy. I want to enjoy every moment with you while I still can. Of course, Claire would want to spend time with you. Of course, she loves you. You have that effect on people."
Claire called me the next day. Zahra had told her I knew their secret, and she wanted to apologize herself. I could hear by her voice she had been crying. That week had turned us all into fountains. I apologized right back to her. "It's stupid to think that Zahra should spend her last weekend with me instead of you. You mean so much to her, you have no idea. And plus, I mean, we all know the situation over there. This could be her only chance to be with a...." Claire gave a single loud laugh over the phone, and I could tell she was red in the face. "I mean I should have known she was bi, the way she was always grabbing your breasts. As soon as she knew she could get away with it she'd have her hands all over you."
"I know. I liked it. It was super frustrating at the same time, though. To be that close, but keep a distance at the same time. I didn't mean for it to happen like it did, I didn't want to tell her that way, but I thought 'oh my god, what if this is it?' Next thing I know, I just blurted it out, and I kissed her and... Oh, I'm sorry of course you don't want to hear this."
Weirdly what I felt was not jealousy but also was jealousy at the same time. It was a positive kind of envy. The only way I can describe it is when your favourite character ends up getting the boy/girl at the end of the movie. It's as if in that moment of hearing about it, I was in the shoes of Zahra, picturing this incredible moment in her life, wanting her to 'get the girl' like I'd want for my favourite protagonist. "You know what, I don't think we should keep secrets. I know what happened, I don't see why we can't talk about it."
She chuckled, "Communication is important, I hear. And are you going to tell me what happened between you two last night?"
This time I was the one laughing like a nervous fool. "If we're going to have this conversation we can't do it over the phone. The government's listening you know!"
We met up in the public library and found some cushions to sit on in a deserted corner. To be a bit more discreet, I opened my laptop and started typing as we sat next to each other. So what happened exactly?
I passed her my laptop so she could type a reply, "She said 'I think I love you too.'"
Giggling like a couple of schoolgirls we continued to swap details, very tame at first, but we gradually pushed each other to go into more detail. We were no longer jealous enemies; it felt just like before when we'd hang out together, just a bit more titillating.
She wrote about kissing Zahra; it was the first time either of them had kissed a girl. It was a timid peck on the lips at first. Claire told Zahra she didn't want to rush her and wanted to wait for her to feel comfortable. "I'm more comfortable around you than anyone," Zahra replied.
They kissed some more, and Zahra's hands crept from the back of Claire's tank top towards her midriff, but she hesitated as she rose her hands to the bulging bosom beneath. Where once she would have her hands all over Claire, this time she was more timid, so Claire backed away from the kiss and took her by the hand, guiding it slowly up and over her left breast to show that it was ok. She took Zahra's other hand and did the same, then squeezed both of them hard the way she wanted her too.
Once Zahra realized she had permission, her timid looseness hardened into ravenous curiosity. She began squeezing and massaging Claire while they kissed, still standing next to the bed. After a few minutes of this, Claire sat Zahra down and slowly lowered the straps of her top, keeping their eyes locked. Standing in front of her next to the bed, she leaned forward as her shirt slid down just enough to reveal her nipple. Zahra began to kiss her cleavage and suck upon her breast, and it was right about this point in the story that I had to stop her.
"Is it hot in here? Why do they turn up the heat so high in these places? It's not as if Canada's cold or anything," I complained, red-faced.
Claire laughed at me, equally embarrassed for sharing such a personal moment. She had a talent for erotic suspense that I could never do justice, surprising for a girl so chaste throughout high-school. "Well, you know, I do read some... stories on the internet sometimes," she admitted. "If you want more, you'll have to cough up some details of your own!"
I began recounting my own night with Zahra, still fresh in my mind from the night before. We continued swapping every awkward detail of our nights with her. I was relieved to hear Claire's experience was equally as clumsy as mine; she admitted she kept accidentally leaning on Zahra's hair with her hand as their hips were locked. Despite these hiccups in our stories, we were both sufficiently aroused after sharing them.
"So what do we do about this weekend?" I asked.
"Maybe we should just leave Zahra behind and go to my cottage so we can finish this erotica we've started on your laptop!" We laughed for a good bit before an inviting silence descended upon us. Our eyes met, and we didn't look away; in a strange way, telling each other our experiences, it was as if we experienced them together. "I'm sorry I cheated on you. Er, I mean, I made Zahra cheat on you."
"Don't be. I'm glad. Zahra's lucky to have such a beautiful woman."
"She's lucky to have such a beautiful man."
Another awkward laugh was followed by a silence. This time I really looked at her, like the lecherous adolescent she once thought I was. I imagined myself stroking her long blonde hair like Zahra did, gazing into her bright blue eyes, kissing her smooth fair skin, sliding a hand beneath her mini jean shorts. She gazed right back at me, lowering her eyes from mine to my chest, and my arms, biting her lip. I was grateful we had the level of trust we did, our situation could have just as easily ended in bloodshed, but instead we seemed closer than ever, yet at the same moment, the distance between us seemed unbearable. I leaned in to kiss her.
We made out for a few minutes when an elderly man tried to nonchalantly clear his throat as he started sifting through books nearby. "I don't feel like going to class today," Claire said, "want to come over?"
Once we made it to her house, we wasted no time, grateful her parents were at work.