Roses Will Do It Every Time 2002

Sir, I was just calling to make sure that this is a business expense to Girls, Girls, Girls for your wife’s bakery in the amount of $5,000. Oh, my. It is.

You had several shrimp platters with a large group of potential customers for your wife’s Home bakery. Yeah. Alrighty then. I will record this as a business expense for you then.

Tell your wife that the muffins were delicious. I saw that Stevie is getting so big. Time flies, eh? You have a great day too, Sir. Buh-Bye.

Zainab slammed the phone down in the silence of the office building. The sound echoing through the halls and up the stairwells.

MEN! Was the shout that made Ibrahim shudder. He was the one who got the task of explaining bad behavior and lies to miskina Zainab. She understood but always expected better from everyone because she loved them.

He soothed it over as she cried about every awful man who had ever done a woman wrong. He was a mensch and started in on his own marital problems.

I know. I don’t know what to do to make Diane happy. We keep going to counseling and I do all of the things. I just don’t know what I’m doing wrong.

What’s that Ibrahim?

The building super, Walter heard Zainab and understood that something juicy was happening. He came in running. He was the recipient of her liquor cabinet when she married. She was somewhat thankful to get rid of it given the number of alcoholics she knew. She made sure that he wasn’t an alcoholic first. She didn’t want to aid in a man’s downfall while sober. They were old chums now.

He’s talking about Diane. - Zainab answered for him with the appropriate gravity, knowing nods and sighs. That’s all that they had seemed to talk about lately.

What’s the latest, Ibrahim?

Oh, Joe Ruben came up to me and told me that him and Sara saw Diane with Larry, a guy we know from temple out in Ann Arbor together. He was saying how strange it was to run into them at Zingerman’s Deli over the weekend.

Did you ask Diane about it?

She said that they were discussing an upcoming charity event that the temple is hosting.

All the way out there?!? Doesn’t he live here?

Yeah. I don’t know. I don’t know what to believe.

Zainab looked at Walter and they both shook their heads.

I say she’s cheating on you and you should kick her to the curb. - was Walter’s manly advice.

What do you think, Zainab?

Do you want to know the truth no matter what the outcome? I’ll tell you how to find out but I want you to be prepared.

Yeah. I think that I’m ready now.

Okay. Is she at work today?

Yes, until 3.

Good. We are going to have to phone Henri and place an order but we need to draft a note for the card first. How about, ‘Just thinking of you. All of my love and devotion, Ibrahim.’?

That’s sweet, she’ll love it!

Exactly. You know how we are. Everyone will be excited to see who the flowers are for. When they find out that it’s Diane, they’ll ask who they’re from and what the note says. Everyone will sing your praises.

I don’t understand then. How is this supposed to prove if Diane is cheating? - Walter decided to talk for the distraught Ibrahim who looked full of fake optimism but no words.

Well, she’s going to react in one of two ways. The first is the gushing praise of Ibrahim by the ladies. Diane starts blushing and remembering how great he truly is. The ladies encourage her and she comes home happily. Then she rips his clothes off and they have a lovely evening.

Woohoo, Ibrahim! - Walter shouted while shaking his hand like it was on fire. Ibrahim blushed while pursing his lips holding back any reaction.

But what’s the other way, Zainab? - Ibrahim sheepishly asked.

Well, she does what Mark did. I delivered a basket of homemade muffins and a dozen long stemmed roses along with one of my handwritten letters to his office on our 4 year wedding anniversary. He was getting help and we were separated. I told the receptionist what it was and who it was for.

She wanted to get him but I let her know that I didn’t want to disturb him. I told her that there were over a dozen muffins in there so he best be sharing. They were blueberry and delicious. She deserved at least one for delivering it for me and him.

She smiled and was all in a twitter to spread the good news. I left with a huge grin. I knew what would happen though. It was awful. So awful.

I drank half a fifth of Southern Comfort over an evening and awaited death by alcohol poisoning, the family curse. Don’t laugh. I’m not a drinker, okay? It was hard to get even that much down. I laid face down on the bathroom floor so that I wouldn’t aspirate any vomit that was surely coming. I am not good at killing myself, obviously.

Walter was covering his face, trying so hard not to laugh at the poor girl and trying to get the obvious question out. He finally eked out through stifled laughter, “What exactly did Mark do?”

Well, he sent me an email.

Okay.

He was staying with his parents. He was bipolar and an addict. He still hadn’t admitted to the addictions, naturally. It was so obvious that I had hypothetical conversations with my professors and fellow students who were employed by Michigan State Police. It was ridiculous. Remind me to tell you about a party in the North Woods. Subhanallah.

Anyways, he told me in this email that he was divorcing me. He had met a woman clear over in Battle Creek who was equally troubled. He was going from West Bloomfield to Battle Creek after work; banging her and whatever; then going back to work. It was over.

Walter was fidgety and covering his mouth as she continued.

Well, he’s a troubled addict so I told him to just come home. We would talk about it and try to figure things out rationally. Addicts aren’t rational though. He forwarded my reply to his mistress who proceeds to send me her reply to my private email that I sent to my husband.

I know. She said that they had met a few months ago and I didn’t know him at all after being together from 15 to 24 years old. She understood him completely though because she was a bipolar addict. Yup.

I sent him a message to come over and drank my life away. I couldn’t even make a friggin degree out of everything I had accomplished. My medical school recommendation letters were already scrapped because of the party in the woods.

I had been teaching college accounting students since before I started school. I couldn’t even get that degree. Thankfully, Ibrahim took me in. The mensch.

Ibrahim blushed as she continued.

We obviously divorced. Hamdulillah. He had to be extremely intoxicated and I had to join him in order to hear his stories. He listed the various drugs and times he almost got caught. He said that he has to take testosterone injections. He never ejaculated with his mistress. He wanted to let me know that I was the only one. He said that I was classy for not responding to his mistress but knew that I would be.

We had sex. I’m not a total idiot. After nine years, he was trained. I wasn’t going to pass that up. I left his apartment in tears though for the life that could’ve been.

Walter was gobsmacked but had to ask, “What happened in the woods exactly?” The boys got comfortable in their seats and positioned themselves to not miss a single word because every single one seemed nonsensical yet was perfectly understandable somehow. She was a conundrum.

Well, I was still pre-med at the time. I was probably in my Junior year. I was gearing up for recommendations from professors for med school while my personal life was a complete disaster. Mark wanted me to go to a party to hang out with his friends.

I hadn’t been out with his friends since Doogie went off to med school. That’s just what I called him because of his red hair. I got him a stethoscope from the University store. I told him that he was going to be a great Dr Doogie. He chuckled while giving me the obvious questioning look. When I didn’t react, he said that I’d be next, obviously. The intelligence thing escapes me most of the time.

Anyhoo, I was thinking intellectual discussions with future doctors, lawyers, stock brokers, etc. He was in his fifth year of his BA in English and possibly education. He was very secretive about everything, naturally. I was great with those discussions as well though.

I was excited to get out of the lab with discussions of blood splatter patterns and cutting up critters. It was in the great North Woods. Perfect, peaceful location for intellectual discussions of various kinds.

Mark gave me instructions as I drove. He rarely drove. It was for the best that night. We got there early before everyone else. I wanted to meet the hosts before they got too busy.

I parked in a massive clearing and made sure that it was okay as I introduced myself with Mark just giving nods and a few, sups? The hosts decided to get to know me through chit chat as I watched numerous people exit a mobile home with various items, preparing for the party. Mark kept wandering off to the ire of us all.

I foolishly asked what they were studying. They weren’t in college but asked if I knew Mark from State. I realized right then and there that that son of a bitch, weaseley ass mother fucking, dumb ass husband of mine didn’t tell the truth about anything. They thought that I was his date.

I looked around for Mark and he saw my glares as he sheepishly glanced over on occasion. Yeah. Go over to that keg and get yourself a beer. Great. Oh, and now you’re checking out the drugs that are being brought out. Joy. Some are fucking packing. Great. Women are barely clothed with a couple of toddlers running around. Perfect.

Now, I have criminals in my family who include drug traffickers and other offenders. I don’t ask. They don’t tell. They know that I’m straight, not a narc but will turn a bitch in. We cool. No problems.

Mark just made a massive problem so I had to come clean. I was trying to get the hosts to the key question as quickly as possible so that we could all be fuming at Mark.

I’m Mark’s wife, Tina. I do attend State.

Oh, yeah. That’s cool.

Yup. I really like it there.

Oh, yeah. It seems cool. Lots of cool people. Ya know.

Yeah. They have great academics. It’s a great school.

Oh. Are you studying umm, English like Mark then?

No. I’m pre-med.

Oh, heavy. You gonna be one of them baby docs?

Actually I want to become a medical examiner for the state. You know, see why someone died. Catch a killer. I’ve been taking criminology classes with Michigan State Police. They have an excellent crime lab that I would love to work in while attending med school in a year or two, if I attend State, naturally.

Wait. What? Are you a cop?

No. And I wouldn’t technically be a ‘cop.’ I’d be working with the ‘cops’ though.

Mark! So, are you turning us in? Mark!

No. I don’t exactly know where the fuck we are in the woods. The nearest state police station is at least an hour out. If I called them and they decided to come, which they wouldn’t, they would have to figure out exactly where we are, make a plan and then implement it. You would surely have any possible illegal activity gone by then though, right?

Mark!

Mark finally decided to grace us with his presence. I asked for a pop and sat down on a log staring at the fire as everyone stared at me. We had a nice few hours of uncomfortable conversation so that they were assured that we were indeed cool. I was not going to turn them in for the crimes that they no longer wanted to commit.

I thanked our hosts and we drove home in silence. I had absolutely no words. My medical career was over. I quickly tried for law because some of my classes transitioned but law school was even looking unobtainable. I switched to business but he crashed and burned before I could even finish.

That’s how I ended up with my Ibrahim.

Zainab smiled lovingly at Ibrahim. He certainly felt better. Walter encouraged him to try it, “Nothing could be as bad as what happened to her. Damn, child.”

Ibrahim sat at his desk and stared upwards as he dialed Henri who was more than happy to oblige with the thoughtful gesture. He anxiously awaited the end of the day. He put on his suit coat, fedora and coat before going to see Zainab.

“Wish me luck, Zainab.”

“Good luck. Bonne chance. Bueno suerte. Inshallah you will have a wonderful night.”

The two embraced and Zainab punched him in the arm. “Go get ‘em tiger.”

Ibrahim rolled his eyes with a huge grin and stepped out into the city streets. Zainab washed for her prayers and said a few extra pleas for Ibrahim and a smaller one for Diane, in case she was wrong.

The next morning Zainab and Walter were gathered at the entrance speculating on Ibrahim’s chances while awaiting the actual outcome. Ibrahim gave a weak smile and hello as he removed his hat and coat.

The pair followed Ibrahim into his office for his obviously horrible night. He was so slow and Zainab impatient that she ran around getting his coffee, mail and anything else to get him to sit down and spill. When he finally did, the pair were hunched over him like detectives in a film noir.

“Well…”

“YEAH!”

“Okay. Okay. It wasn’t good, obviously. I had gotten chicken and rice from the restaurant for dinner. I set the table and lit candles. Diane was furious with it all. She said that it was rude of me to send flowers when we were separated. I didn’t ask her if she wanted Lebanese for dinner. She was humiliated. She wants a divorce. That’s it.”

“Oh my God. Miskeen Ibrahim. I’m so sorry. At least now you know for sure but that bitch! Sorry.”

“Yeah. Sorry, Ibe. That’s rough. Well, the ladies at temple will sure be buzzing about you being on the market soon, eh, big guy?”

“Walter,” Zainab chastised, “Ibrahim is a fine catch and will have his choice amongst all of the equally fine ladies at temple when and if he decides to marry.”

Both of the men rolled their eyes and groaned at Zainab.

“What? I’m not going to tell a God fearing man to go into His house and find a nice piece of ass as a side piece. It’s just not proper.”

“Zainab!”

“What?”

Zainab always had to have the last word. Thankfully it wasn’t a foul one. She was proper in deed but certainly not word. Everyone thought that it was the Marine but it was actually her proper mother who cursed like a sailor to her as an infant in mother fucking Detroit.

Hopefully you have a great mother fucking day in Detroit or wherever you happen to find yourself.

Ma’salam.

Min sadiqatuk, Drsy.

From your friend, Darcy.