My Fake Canadian Wife Page 3

  Some messages were mostly about the basic things we needed to know about each other. And in the end, we didn’t need to write papers about ourselves. We pretty much figured everything out via text.

  What’s your zodiac sign?

  Mine: Leo

  Hers: Taurus

  Where were you born?

  Me: São Paulo.

  Abby: Stratford.

  Chocolate or vanilla?

  Chocolate for both of us.

  Do you have any allergies?

  Nope.

  By the end of the week, I started to get tired of the messages. Not because they were annoying, but because I wanted to be able to answer them in person. I loved chatting to people online; that wasn’t exactly a problem. But there were things that couldn’t be said in a text message because it all felt a little impersonal.

  I WAITED FOR Paige to finish serving a table before stopping her.

  “Okay, I’m in for now. What are we going to do next?” I said.

  Paige gave me a smile and pulled me to the side. “I’m setting you two up for a date. How about tomorrow night?”

  “Do you need to call it a date though?” I said, rolling my eyes. “Yeah, I’m free tomorrow.”

  “Awesome. I’ll let you know more details later.”

  Without warning, a loud voice interrupted our little chat. “What are you two doing there? Get to work!”

  We both turned around to face our boss with fake smiles. Bob Brown was tall and skinny, a white guy with bushy eyebrows and a permanent scowl on his face. He took care of the three stores he owned over the city and only came here to check on us a few times a month.

  Somehow, he always caught us in awkward situations like the time I broke two plates on the way to the kitchen or when Paige was taking selfies on her phone. I had no idea how we still had jobs at this point.

  “Sorry, Mr. Brown. I was telling Paige she needs to clean tables five and six,” I said with a fixed smile.

  Paige sent me a pointed look before leaving us.

  “Right, right. No more slacking,” Bob said. “I don’t want to have another talk with you, Isadora.”

  I bit my tongue, nodded, and waited for him to leave. Once he was gone, I closed my eyes and took two deep breaths. I had customers to attend, tables to clean, and bills to pay.

  Then I opened my eyes and went back to work.

  I DIDN’T KNOW what kind of “date” Paige had in mind for us, so I decided to go with something basic. I wore my curly brown hair down and just a little makeup. The weather was getting colder, but I could still wear my black dress if I wore thigh-highs under it.

  “I’m going out. Don’t wait up for me,” I said on my way to the door. Julie didn’t even look up, too busy working on a script she was writing for her project.

  “Take care! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

  “Have fun with your work,” I said back.

  I went straight to the entrance of our building since Paige had told me no bikes allowed tonight. After a few seconds outside, I looked at my phone. I hated waiting for other people to turn up. There was a new notification on my Tumblr, and when I opened the app, I saw a message in my inbox.

  Are you ever going to post a new picture? I miss your collection.

  I closed the tab quickly, a nervous feeling forming in the pit of my stomach. There were still a few people who followed me because of the pictures I used to take when I was enrolled in classes a few months ago. But I can’t work on my photography anymore without a camera. I would probably answer later, but it wasn’t something I was going to waste time worrying about now.

  To my surprise, Abigail appeared alone at the end of the street. She was in one of her usual sweater and cutoff jeans combos, but tonight there was a cute gray beanie on her head. I hated that it made her look more attractive. Canadian girls could be addictive.

  “Hey, where’s Paige?” I asked as she approached the steps.

  Abby placed her hands inside her pockets, a little taken aback by my question. “It’s just us tonight.”

  “Okay. Where are we going then? Because I thought she was going to give us directions.”

  “Don’t worry. She already sent me all the info we need. I think you’re going to like this.” Abby nodded for me to follow her, and I walked down the steps. Not having Paige with us made me feel insecure about what to say or how to act. I was depending on her to ease the tension, not to be on my own with this girl I barely knew.

  We turned left at the end of the street, and soon Abby lead us down into St. George Station.

  “Do we have far to go?” I asked.

  “No, only a few stops.”

  Inside the train, Abby didn’t sit. Soon enough we came out at Dufferin Station in Little Portugal and walked for a few streets until we came to a cute little restaurant. The scent was the first thing that caught my attention. Churrasco. Then I noticed the little yellow and green colors on the outdoor walls of the one-story house and a flag I knew so well in the entry close to the dark windows. Real Brazilian churrasco.

  I turned to look at Abby, and she gave me a small smile. She was too proud of this.

  We choose a table by the windows in the corner, close enough to the kitchen to make my stomach rumble with the smell, but not so close I’d feel too warm.

  “Do you like it?” Abby asked as she sat in front of me.

  I heard anxiety behind her words.

  “I love it,” I said. “Is this the place you mentioned?”

  “Yeah, I suggested it to Paige.”

  “Cool.”

  We fell into an awkward silence for the next few minutes, save for the seconds it took us to ask for the waitress to bring us something to drink or when we placed our order. I heard a variety of accents around us as people chatted over food. Looking behind me, I saw the restaurant was mostly like any other, but they decorated with little Brazilian flags on the ceiling, and a TV in the corner was showing a soccer match. There were also a few family pictures beside the kitchen entrance, and I wondered if the restaurant owners were all immigrants like me.

  I turned back and found Abby staring at me anxiously. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say,” I said after a while.

  Abby sat straighter in her chair. “What would you say if this were a real date?”

  I opened and closed my mouth a few times, feeling my cheeks burning. I didn’t want to let Abby know my dating experience was almost nonexistent. Most of the girls I had kissed were random pickups in bars or neighbors who were too pushy for me. And I’m pretty sure the five months I secretly dated my best friend in middle school were not something to brag about.

  “So, how do you know Paige?”

  There, neutral subject. A person we had in common.

  Abby finished chewing her linguiça before answering me. “We were neighbors when we were kids.”

  “I thought she was from Toronto.”

  Abby did a negative hum. “She used to live across the street until we were around eight. But then her parents divorced and she moved here with her mother. It just happened that I came here for university and she was in my first sociology class. She was still the same bright Paige as always.”

  That could be great material for a love story. If they weren’t both straight.

  “Why did you move here?” Abby asked.

  I shrugged, unsure if I was ready to open up to her to that extent. But if she was going to be my fake wife, she had to know these things. “Living back home felt…like being trapped. I wanted to see something different, have new experiences. Being so close to my family made me uncomfortable about my identity as a lesbian. They didn’t exactly hate me for it or anything; on the contrary, they were very supportive. It was just this feeling I had.”

  “I understand. Small towns can do that, too; people like to gossip behind your back, and you never know who to trust. So you came for the lesbians and bi women then?”

  I almost choked on my water.

  “Yes, that w
as definitely my reason to move to Canada. Is that funny to you?”

  Abby raised her hands. “I don’t blame you.”

  What did she mean by that?

  I frowned at the small smile appearing in the corner of Abby’s lips. “What’s so funny?”

  Abby burst out laughing. It took her a few seconds to recover. “You think I’m straight, don’t you?”

  I felt my whole face heating up like a furnace. Of course, I’d be the one to make all the wrong assumptions.

  “Let’s say I wasn’t too sure,” I said. “How do you identify? Is that okay to ask?”

  “It’s okay. I think pansexual is the label that fits me best. I can see myself potentially feeling attraction to anyone, regardless of gender.”

  I nodded, finally understanding my mistake. After thinking for a moment, I said, “I’m a lesbian.”

  “Yes, I know. You told me that, like, five minutes ago.”

  Right.

  We spent the next few moments concentrating solely on our food. Their picanha was the best. And they even had garlic bread just like the ones my family used to make at our Sunday barbecues. The taste always made me strangely nostalgic. A group of people a few tables to the left was talking in Portuguese, discussing what teams were battling for the Brasileirão title.

  Our waiter came to the table. “How’s everything? Are you two enjoying your meal? Can I help with anything else?” he asked in a fast ramble.

  “Everything is fine.”

  “We’re all right,” Abby and I said at the same time.

  The waiter smiled at us, and we laughed at the awkward pause. “I’ll leave you to your meal, then.”

  After he left, Abby and I stared back at our food, embarrassed.

  “Are you comfortable with this?” Abby asked me after a few more minutes.

  I stared at her, unsure of what she was referring to.

  “With our arrangement,” Abby said. “Is this something you want to do? I feel like maybe Paige and I are forcing you into it.”

  “I find it weird that you’re okay with the situation. I don’t know. I guess I’d be okay with spending two years married to someone if it made it easier for me to stay here.”

  “I wouldn’t mind either,” she said with a shrug. “Paige is my friend, and you seem like a cool girl. I guess I only want to help you out.”

  “That’s…very nice of you.” Extremely nice. Honestly, this arrangement was too easy.

  Abby genuinely smiled for the first time since I met her. She even looked…shy. It was a new side to her.

  I took my last bite of the chicken wing and then we were done. The waiter came to our table just as eager as before, quickly cleaning everything.

  “Would you like to see the desserts?” he asked.

  I was about to say yes, but Abby spoke before me, “Actually, we only want the check. But thank you.”

  A part of me was disappointed, but I didn’t say anything. If Abby wanted to go, maybe she was tired. We were going to spend a lot of time together if things worked out, so it was for the best to go slow.

  When the waiter brought the check, Abby reached for it.

  “Let’s share,” I said, trying to get it from her hands.

  “No, no. It’s a date, let me do it.”

  I bit my lip and let go of the check, fighting the urge to pay for my part. Abby used her card to pay for our meal, and then we were ready to go.

  We stopped outside, staring at the mostly empty and dark street. There were only a few other restaurants and pubs open at this hour. I could feel the tension radiating from Abby by my side, a new shift in our interaction now. We still had a long way to go when it came to getting to know each other, but at least now it didn’t quite feel as if we were two random girls getting in over our heads.

  Abby raised her head, shifting her weight from one leg to the other. She fixed her hair under her beanie, and it gave me the super cute queer girl vibe, making me want to lean closer.

  “So, that wasn’t so bad,” Abby said.

  “Yeah, I guess it wasn’t. Thanks for doing this.”

  Abby stepped closer. “Does this mean we’re going ahead with the plan?”

  “Probably.”

  “You always seem to be so unsure, Dora. I need to know where you stand on this.”

  I stared at the street ahead of us, thinking of how much I always walked on eggshells when it came to my life. Waiting for things to happen on their own wasn’t going to fix my problems anytime soon. Abby and I could go for it, and if we decided it wasn’t worth it, then we could stop. But as I looked back at the cute girl by my side, a new fear came to me.

  Two years living together was a long time. Enough time to maybe fall in love with Abigail or end up hating her guts.

  Chapter Five

  AFTER OUR DATE, I decided to try a new approach. Faking a marriage wasn’t the only way to stay in Canada. In fact, it was probably the most dangerous one, and if someone found out about our little lie, we were both fucked.

  My second obvious option was to try to extend my student visa and gain some time to ask for actual citizenship. That’s why I was sitting in a waiting room back at Ryerson University, staring at the wood-paneled walls I knew so well.

  I had sent a message last night to Professor Thomas or Professor T, as she introduced herself in her first class. She had helped me a lot when I was still enrolled in my photography major. Begging didn’t seem pretty but was worth a try. She replied straight away and asked me to call into her office the next day.

  The door to her office opened, and Professor T came out to greet me. She was still the same as always, wearing one of her stylish button-up shirts, her coiled hair neat. She smiled gently at me, her perfect white teeth contrasting with her smooth dark skin.

  “Good morning, Isadora. Why don’t you come in for a minute?”

  “Good morning, Professor,” I said as I walked into her room. The scent of her expensive perfume filled my nostrils.

  We sat on different sides of her mahogany table and stayed silent for a minute.

  “Do you want to start?” she asked me after a while.

  I took a deep breath, crossing my fingers on my lap. “I need to fix my current situation as an immigrant here in Canada. My visa expired, and I’ll probably have to go back home if I can’t find a legal way to stay. I was thinking that going back to school and reapplying for a new student visa would still be an option for me with your help.”

  I omitted the part where I was currently planning to get married to a girl I barely knew, but Professor T didn’t need to know this. I didn’t want to ruin any possibility, however slight, that she could help me out.

  “Did you receive a letter already?”

  “I did. That’s why I’m so worried. I wouldn’t ask for advice if I wasn’t for that.”

  “I understand. Honestly, there aren’t many options right now, Isadora. Most of the applications are about to open in a few months. Until then, your situation would still be uncertain.”

  I nodded and stayed silent, waiting for her to elaborate.

  Professor T rubbed her forehead in thought before saying, “Do you have a project proposal for me? You can’t get back to school without the effort.”

  “I don’t…yet. But I’m going to think of something.”

  “If you’re staying, you need to take this seriously,” she said in a stern voice. “Back to school, no giving up because it’s hard. You don’t want to be in this country illegally when you have a chance of staying legally. Not everyone has this luck.”

  “I’m aware.”

  “I’ll think about it, then. We’ll keep in touch.” Her tone told me she was finished with the conversation.

  I got up from my chair and placed my hands on the back. “Thank you so much for this, Professor. I’m going to do my best to bring in new ideas for us.”

  She gave me a genuine smile as an answer. It hadn’t been so bad after all. “See that you do, Isadora. Now, I need to finish co
rrecting these papers.”

  WHEN I GOT home, I took out my laptop, my hands hesitating over the keyboard. It was probably around 8:00 p.m. in Brazil right now, and my mom would answer immediately if she was online.

  I wasn’t ready to tell her, but I had to do it anyway. If there was a possibility I was going back home, she had to prepare things for me.

  The call rang for a few seconds, with no answer. I was already thinking she wasn’t on her computer when I saw my mom’s smile on the screen. Her brown face had little wrinkles forming around her eyes, and as always, her dark hair was up in a messy bun. From her light makeup, I could tell she had just gotten home from work.

  “Como você tá, Dorinha?” Mom asked.

  I tried to smile back, as simply hearing her voice made me want to curl up into her arms. “I’m good, Mom. How are things there?” I replied, slipping easily into my native tongue.

  “Good, good. Your brother came here last weekend for a visit. The kids are growing up so fast! Should I get your dad? He’s across the street talking to—”

  “No, no!” I quickly cut her off. I could deal with Mom’s worries, but I wasn’t ready for my dad’s overprotectiveness just yet. “I mean, I can talk to him later. I need to tell you something first.”

  Mom’s smile faded into a worried expression. “What happened?”

  I adjusted the laptop, trying to gain courage. I should have told her my webcam was broken so I wouldn’t need to see her face while I did this.

  “I may need to go back home next year.”

  “Oh, that’s great! We’re missing you so much. Why is that a problem? Are you worried we don’t want to see you?” she asked with a laugh.

  “No, Mom. I mean going back for real. My situation here is a little messy.”

  Mom stopped laughing, staring intently at the screen, like she didn’t believe what I was saying.

  “Is there a way you can fix it?”

  “I have a few options, but nothing is certain yet,” I said. “I only wanted you to know in case the worst happens.”

  Mom’s expression shifted. Her eyes were full of love and worry, and she reached out to me, as close as she could get to the camera. “I’m going to be here for whatever you need. If coming home is what ends up happening, then that’s what it should be.”