“Did you read the Post yesterday?”, SM-loyalist Deepa asked me over AIM. I replied negatively and she sent me the link to a love story…
The two were as opposite as could be. Saqib is tall, olive-skinned and athletic. Susan is tiny, fair-skinned and delicate. Saqib is Muslim, the son of immigrants born in India. Susan was raised in a conservative Christian family from a small town in Pennsylvania. He’s a door-knocking community activist who hopes to run for public office someday; she’s soft-spoken and cherishes her privacy. He’s a perpetual pessimist, always managing expectations and planning for the worst; she’s an eternal optimist who’s always smiling.
Though both of their families initially balked at a desire to be with someone so “opposite”, eventually, all the in-laws came around.
After a few years together, Saqib and Susan wanted to become parents. Surely they might have thought that after the considerable struggle they survived just to get married, this next phase of their lives would be less fraught with turmoil. One would have hoped.
“It’s a girl!” the technician announced, to a round of cheers. Susan squeezed Saqib’s hand. The couple had already settled on a girl’s name: Leila. Her middle name would be Daine, a tribute to Susan’s mother, Diane, who had died suddenly a year earlier, two weeks after learning she had a brain tumor.
Leila Daine Ali. It was a name that Saqib knew he’d never tire of saying — introducing her to the world, chastising her for trying to poke her pudgy toddler fingers into wall sockets, exclaiming over her good grades in school. It was a name he knew he would scrawl countless times on the “memo” line of his checkbook. “For clown at Leila’s party.” “For Leila’s tuition.” “For Leila’s wedding dress.”