“Aphysicsteacher, at the science charter school that opened up in the old neighborhood,” Azizah corrected.
Of course.
The pilot announced that they would be starting their descent, and Maryam was gripped with a sudden panic. There was no way she could go back to her seat. She couldn’t face Saif or Anna. Now that she had eaten something, she was starting to feel embarrassed by how much she had revealed to a complete stranger.
As if picking up on her mood, Dadu rose and insisted she stay where she was while he took her seat at the back for the landing. Relieved, Maryam didn’t argue. Her grandfather could always sense when she was distressed, even as a child, and he never asked questions until she was ready to talk. Striving for casual, she turned to her sister to continue their conversation.
“I didn’t think you were still close with Farah,” Maryam said to Saima. The two women were around the same age. Her sister shrugged.
“Maybe she wanted to visit Toronto and this was a good excuse,” she said, not very interested. Farah had always been a pleasant, if bland, social acquaintance—conventionally pretty, always turned out in the latest Pakistani fashions, her shiny dark hair cut into a sleek bob. The women had drifted apart as adults, as often happened, but Maryam was touched that the younger woman had felt compelled to attend her sister’s wedding.
Which was scheduled to start in just two days, in Toronto—first with themehndiparty, followed by thenikahceremony two days later, and finally thewalimareception thenext day. Except their plane was not landing in Toronto. Where the heck was Ottawa?
She must have spoken out loud because an older white man seated across the aisle leaned over. “Ottawa is the capital of Canada,” he explained. “It’s about four hundred kilometers away from Toronto.”
The four Americans looked blankly at the older man, who sighed. “That’s around two hundred fifty miles,” he said kindly. “Five-hour drive in good weather. But you’re not going anywhere tonight. Apparently, the Toronto mayor, Mel Lastman, is calling in the army to help deal with the snow. I heard the flight attendant call this the Storm of the Century.”
“Doesn’t Canada have one of those every few weeks in the winter?” Maryam asked.
The older man shrugged. “That was some nasty turbulence we flew through. In fact, we didn’t even make it to Ottawa.” He nodded out the window. “We’re circling Rockport Airport. I used to fly in when the cheap flights landed here.”
“Where is Rockport?” Saima asked.
“Regional airport, serves the town of Snow Falls.” He laughed at Maryam’s incredulous expression. “It really is called Snow Falls. Tiny town, more of a village. It’s seventy kilometers... fortymilesfrom Ottawa. My guess is we’ll be stuck overnight, but should be on our way tomorrow morning, or the next day at the latest.”
“No!” Saima burst out. She had been quiet all this time, and Maryam could see that she was pale, one hand gripping the armrest tightly. “We’re supposed to be in Toronto tonight. Mymehndiparty is the day after tomorrow, and I have dinner planswith Miraj’s friends from school, and I haven’t even met my in-laws yet, and thenikahis infive days...”
“My sister is getting married,” Maryam explained to the older man with a smile. She turned to her sister. “We’ll rent a car and try to make it to Toronto tonight. Even if it takes double the time, we can do it,” Maryam said, trying to sound more confident than she felt.
“I hope your wedding deposits are refundable,” the older man said before settling back in his seat for the landing.
Once the plane was on the ground and taxiing, an announcement over the PA confirmed everything the older man had said, and the wedding party sat back, absorbing the news. Maryam gathered their bags and helped her parents. At least one good thing had come out of this experience: she hadn’t thought about Saif once in the past hour.
But she did wonder how Anna was holding up. If her plan worked and she managed to snag a rental car, she likely would never see Anna Gibson again. The thought didn’t make her happy, for some reason.
—
Unfortunately, they weren’t the only ones with plans to hightail it out of Snow Town, or Iceberg, or whatever this podunk place was called. The line in front of the rental agency was already ten people deep by the time Maryam, her family, and all their bags shuffled through the beige-carpeted arrivals lounge of Rockport Airport. From the harried expressions of the three airport staff, Maryam deduced this flyover village hadn’t had this much excitement in years.
“Maryam, look outside!” Dadu said, excitedly pulling on his granddaughter’s sleeve. It was dark; the sun set early in December, but the tall lampposts shone a spotlight on the snow falling steadily, a veritable stream of white fluff that didn’t look like it would stop anytime soon. As they watched, the snow started falling harder, as if it were taunting them. A few propeller planes on the runway already boasted a deep blanket of snow on each wing, wheels half buried.
“Three feet already,” Dadu said. “How glorious!”
Saima looked from the line at the car rental agency to the snow outside and dropped her luggage. “My wedding is ruined!” she wailed.
Instantly, Azizah, Ghulam, and Dadu surrounded Saima, patting her on the shoulder, offering tissues and morechai. Her mother looked at Maryam with a plaintive expression:Do something!
Except the man at the rental agency shook his head when Maryam finally reached the counter. “Miss, the roads are impassable. Even the snowplows aren’t heading out until the snow eases some.”
“Don’t you have an SUV we can rent? Jeep? Humvee? I’ll pay double. Triple!” Maryam said, desperate. Behind her, she could hear her sister sobbing loudly, attracting a crowd. “My sister is getting married in Toronto,” she added.
The man—a boy, really, barely out of his teens—shrugged sympathetically. “You’d need a car with a plow attached, and snow chains on the tires besides, and even then you wouldn’t get far. We got a bunch of movie folk snowed in just the same as you, and if movie folk can’t get out, no one can. They’re calling it the Storm of the Century. Trust me, Toronto isn’tgoing anywhere,” he said, pronouncing itToronna. He looked over her shoulder. “Next!”
Dejected, Maryam headed back to her family. Her sister had stopped wailing, but her tears fell as steadily as the snow outside.
“I’m not leaving the airport,” Saima said after Maryam conveyed the bad news. “We’ll spend the night here. That way we can get the first flight out.”
If you didn’t want your wedding to be waylaid by a snowstorm, maybe you shouldn’t have insisted on getting married in December. In Canada, Maryam thought, but wisely kept silent.
