Essential survival skills

Fatima bin Laden and Lt. Basel Zakly Faris, USMC, were just finishing up their Journalism 101 assignment in the little library -- comparing and analyzing the front pages of Honolulu's two daily papers, finding that the Star-Bulletin had far more local stories, and more relevant stories overall.

Academics aside, it was clear to Fatima that Baz -- "rhymes with Oz," he said -- had a personal, perhaps romantic interest in her. The way that he initially teased her about being modest enough to be a Muslim, the way he whispered an Arabic greeting to her, it was obvious that he was being very subtle, very careful in approaching her. So she had that going for her.

Feeling emboldened, feeling the pressure to get this mission moving, she whispered across the table, making her first veiled probe: "If I may ask a question, isn't it dangerous for a Marine officer to criticize the U.S. government? What was the term you used yesterday in class, fubar? I looked up fubar in the dictionary and could not find it."

Baz blushed. "Ah, er, FUBAR, um, let's just say it means things are messed up beyond all recognition."

"And speaking openly like this is not dangerous for you or your career?"

"All depends on who you say it to, and when. But, no, I never met a Marine who didn't think he'd figured out a better way to do things than what the big shots in Washington decided."

"And you are such a Marine?"

"Oh, man, put me in charge, there'd be a whole lot of things done different," Baz said, stifling a laugh. "But I'm a lieutenant and I'm not in charge. Fortunately, I'm good at taking orders and keeping my mouth shut."

"Useful qualities," she said, making eye contact.

"Essential survival skills," he said, semi-swooning, gathering up the newspapers. "May I walk you outside. I see Joe and your friend."

Ducking under a low arch made by two gnarly, moss-covered yellow plumeria trees in full bloom, they found Lt. Joe Matsuo and Jennifer Hira talking and laughing at a weathered study-lunch table set in a lovely little Hawaiian garden just outside the library.

Each couple apprised the other, seeing a near reflection of themselves -- young love budding and anxious to bloom. Mixed with the sweet aroma of plumeria, you could smell hormones in the air.

Unfortunately, Baz and Joe had to hustle back to base, Fatima and Jen had a computer lab.

"See you in class tomorrow," Baz said.

"Yes," Fatima said as if she were making a vow.

They watched the two Marines turn, wave, strut away.

"At long last," Jen said dreamily, "I think I found my guy."

Just three days in America, Fatima was thinking, and I'm almost certain I found mine.