Chapter Four: A Town Called Malice
Rachel rapped smartly on the door. She absently smoothed her blue skirt as the door opened to reveal a tall man with dark hair that had lightened with age. His normally serious face broke into a happy grin. "Hiya sis. Ready for supper?"
Rachel wrapped her arms around her younger brother. "Of course, Toby." Despite their increasingly busy lives, Rachel and Toby tried to meet at least once every few weeks to eat and catch one another up on their lives. The two entered Toby's lived-in flat . Rachel sat down, the old chair feeling a bit uncomfortable under her. She nodded thanks as her brother offered her a plate of Beef Wellington and a salad. "A police officer who cooks. It's a wonder that the ladies hadn't snatched you up, yet."
Toby winked. "You know me, Detective Sergeant Toby Field, the regular lady's man," Rachel chuckled and playfully slapped Toby on the shoulder as they ate. "You're looking sharper than the last time I saw you," Toby remarked. "Finally, over what's his name, Nadir, Vassar?"
"Nassar," Rachel corrected what she felt was the 100th time. "I am finally ready to move on."
"I should hope so," Toby interjected. He had made his opinions perfectly clear about her lover reminding her that he was a married man and what was she to expect and if he ever ran into him, then Toby would give him the beating of his life. "Hey at least you don't have to worry about the superstitions that you claimed that the wife gave you."
"Toby, they were real, " Rachel swore. "The furniture kept shaking. That sofa that Grandmum gave me almost fell apart."
"Rache, you live near the Tubes and the train station," Toby reminded her. "The walls and furniture shift from time to time."
"And the rashes that were on my body," Rachel asked."What would you call that?"
"I call that eczema or some other skin condition," Toby said. "Slap some aloe or lotion on you and it will be gone. Anyway, you hadn't had it in months so why bother worrying?"
Rachel shrugged. "I suppose you're right," she said. Toby's phone rang. He held up his finger to his sister as if to say wait a minute.
Rachel watched her brother's face. His gregarious smile transformed into a dark sinister frown. His voice dropped to a frantic whisper. There were two things that Toby kept secret from his sister: cases that he was working on and his relationships with women, both of which he was known for. Rachel recalled the many times when she and Toby still shared the same flat and the door was often pounded on by a frantic young woman who needed her brother's help on a case or believed he was the father of her child, or both.
She listened. "Yes, good thanks for letting me know. I'll see you. No, not now! Wait!" He glanced at his sister. "No, I'm not alone. Tomorrow evening will be fine. Same time, place too. Thank you, remember, Cherry. Good-bye." He hung up. Upon Rachel's curious expression. "Just a business call."
"Did you say 'Remember Cherry'? As in the fruit or the color?" Rachel inquired.
Toby grinned and laughed. "I can't keep anything from you, sis. Actually, it's both. I had feelers on a recliner for Mum for her birthday. I picked the color, cherry red. "
"Mum will love it," Rachel replied. "If she's aware of it." Toby blithely nodded. Their mother was currently in a nursing facility and was in the final stages of dementia. She hadn't been aware of many of her children's gifts. "So, you will be picking it up."
Toby nodded. "That was a mate of mine. He's going to help me." Rachel nodded, but privately she knew her brother better than that. His quiet determined voice during the call told her that it was more serious than he let on. Rachel wasn't fooled. She could tell that when Toby said, "Cherry" that he was referring to someone by name . She knew of only one woman with that name. It was a long shot, so for now she opted to keep this thought to herself. But, she had a feeling that she would be seeing Nassar again whether either of them wanted to be reunited or not.
Tania spent most of the morning wrapped up in various books, and notepads translating various texts for Latika. She was so busy that she didn't realize that she had skipped lunch, until Max took her hand and offered to take her out. She was about to object, but her growling stomach refuted her objection, so she accepted.
Max and Tania walked hand in hand down the London street talking and eating chocolate bars that they had bought from a nearby sweet shop. Since they were both caught up in work, Omar offered to watch Frida at the laundrette on the condition that they arrived early to pick her up since he had to get ready for a party at Nassar's. "London isn't as bad as you said, Tani."
"Wait until you really get to know the place," the young woman quipped dryly. "I still can't understand why Latika had me remain here longer."
"Well if she wants to write that book on Women Immigrants in Europe, then England would by definition be one of the places to study," Max dryly reminded her.
Tania shrugged as her boyfriend continued. "Besides it could give you the chance to catch up on some familiar places, old friends-"
Tania sighed and rolled her eyes. "-I know where this is going," as Max continued. "-Family members."
"No," Tania objected. "I have already told you this. I will not speak to my father!"
"Oh come now," Max said. "Why won't you talk to him?"
"We're completely different," Tania replied. "He would never understand me."
"Well you never know until you try," Max countered.
"What about you and Frida?" Tania reminded him. "He would go positively bonkers if he found out that I am in love with a white man and a Jew at that."
"Well I wasn't exactly consulted when my ancestors selected their religion," Max quipped. "Besides didn't you once tell me that he wasn't particularly religious?"
"Are you kidding?" Tania remarked. "Papa thinks that Muslim Law should be changed to Muslim Suggestion. No, he isn't religious or traditional, normally. But, he's not afraid of hiding behind that façade to get his way. I don't want to see you or Frida get hurt by his reactionary avaricious ways."
Max held his girlfriend closer. "Oh, Tania you said so yourself; you have changed in the past year. Perhaps he has as well."
"Not him," Tania glowered.
"Doesn't he deserve the benefit of the doubt as much as you do?" Max asked. Tania held her boyfriend closer and the two kissed. Max grinned. He knew Tania well: she can be stubborn when she stuck by her convictions. Sometimes it would take the work of a Biblical prophet to change her mind. He had a feeling that her father was the same way, but if Nassar Hussein was anything like his daughter, he would come around eventually. Max wanted to believe that her family wasn't as bad as the dire picture that she painted. But he knew for her and her father to truly heal, they must get beyond their estrangement and move on. To do that, they had to reunite.
Tania held out her notebook. "I should probably get back. Latika will have my head if this chapter isn't finished." Max playfully, took the notebook and ran around in circles with it. Tania laughed and reached for It, but the tall man held it high over her head. "Give it back, you idiot," she laughed reaching for it again. She jumped for it, but again Max towered the notebook over her. "You're as bad as Frida. Give it to me!"
"Make me," Max teased. Tania stood on tip-toe and kissed her boyfriend on the lips. Max slowly lowered the notebook as he kissed her back. "That wasn't so bad was it?" he asked as she took the notebook from him.
"You are an idiot," Tania teased as the two kissed again. Out of the corner of her eye, Tania glanced across the street. A white man was standing by a street corner, a familiar white man with bleached over dark hair and wearing an orange and black jacket. Tania pulled away. "Wait a minute," she said. Tania turned from her boyfriend to get a closer look. She walked closer to the edge of the sidewalk keeping her distance but wanting to see if her eyes weren't playing tricks on her. The man didn't see her. Instead , he looked at the crowd with a lost expression on his face. He smoked a cigarette and leaned on a wall, one leg propped up against the edge for support."Johnny!" Tania yelled louder than she intended. The man looked up. Tania turned to Max. "Max, it's Johnny!" She yelled. Tania crossed the street with Max struggling to keep up. "Johnny, wait! I want to talk-" Tania called. She ran to where she saw the figure, but he was gone. Her voice grew softer as she caught her breath. "-with you."
Tania looked back and forth and shook her head. There was no one here who looked remotely familiar. Maybe her eyes were playing tricks on her. "You all look alike to me," Tania muttered under her breath. She was about to turn around and return to her boyfriend when a voice startled her. "You ever touched this one, then?" Tania jumped with surprise and turned to the same man who looked at her with the same laviscious grin that he had the day she left London.
Tania grinned but maintained a classy composure. "Not that it's any of your business, but yes plenty of times. Good to see you, Johnny."
"You too, Tania," Johnny agreed. "Are you here long?"
"A few weeks or so," Tania replied. "I've been to the launderette," she said.
"Ah," Johnny said in a tone that indicated nonchalance, but Tania wondered if it meant more than that. "Not changed much then?"
"The only things that seemed to have changed are you and Omar," Tania replied.
"So?" Johnny asked.
"You should go back with him," Tania said. "You belong together."
Johnny grimaced. "Is this the same man who what were the exact words, 'ordered me about like a servant.' You lost the battle, so now you're pushing me towards him."
Tania glared at him. Johnny always had a way of twisting the truth within emotions that infuriated her. Privately, she was glad that he declined to travel with her. It took meeting Max for her to realize just how wrong she and Johnny would have been for each other. "You should see him, dressed in his fine suits, acting the life of every party, playing the boss."
"So, he got what he wanted," Johnny sneered.
"It's all an act and you know it," Tania snapped. "Outside he's fine, but he's dead inside."
"And you know him so well," the punk glowered.
Tania found no answer for that so she turned to face Max who approached the two. She walked up to her boyfriend. "What have you been doing to yourself during this time?" she asked. "Causing trouble, breaking the law?"
"Been up North," Johnny answered. "Drinking, doing a lot of thinking." A lot more than what was good for him, Johnny thought. He couldn't stay with his old gang, not when every immigrant reminded him of Omar. Not when he saw how useless his former friends all were .One night, he just left not sure where he was going. He just migrated North up near Liverpool for awhile just to think. Many of his thoughts centered around a pair of bright innocent brown eyes over a wide dazzling white smile and a pleasant optimistic voice that always called his name with such joy and reminded him that he was capable of doing anything. Johnny hated Omar, hated him for changing him and for making it impossible to change back.
"Then you had better return to the only man who ever thought that you were worth anything," Tania shot back as she walked away with Max. "Because God knows nobody else does!"
Omar, Del, and Gigi had continued their daily work at the laundrette which had been a very busy but pleasant day with Frida running around the place. She greeted many of the customers who spoke to her and joked with her. Some even played with the small girl like Gerard who lifted up and spun the giggling girl around. "I think Powders has a new mascot," Gigi quipped.
"You know if we just charged people who wanted to play with her alone we could make a fortune," Del joked slyly.
Omar laughed as they continued to work. Proceedings had hit a slight lull since Frida became bored and Omar offered to let her sit in the backroom for awhile."I'll go see how she is," Omar said. He thought that maybe Frida might be bored in unlocked the backroom and walked inside. The backroom felt cramped and Omar caught his breath. Now that he was in the same room where it happened, his rape from Genghis felt more real than ever. He winced at the recall of the Neo-Nazi on top of him his deep voice growling in his ear, his hands cutting the life out of him, his body pushing down on him. Omar didn't tell anyone about it. He couldn't tell anyone. He felt nauseous, humiliated at the thought. Each time that the pressure of the day and the memory of that awful rape filled him, he reached for the safety of the pills that Salim had given him. They were the only things that kept him going. Omar glanced at his pocket and saw his bottle was empty. He glowered with disdain. Well more reasons to go to Nassar's party tonight. He decided to block his thoughts from such dire things and divert his attention to the small girl.
The small girl appeared not to hear him because she had her head bowed. She concentrated on the picture that she drew on her sketchpad. Omar peered over her shoulder to see a lovely woman with dark curly hair. "It's very good," Omar said. Frida jumped in an almost comic surprise, the pencil fell from her hand. She looked up at her uncle.
"Thank you, Uncle Omar," she said as she reached for the pencil that had fallen near her feet. Omar smiled indulgently and fondly. She was a sweet girl. She glanced up at her uncle smiling a wide grin with missing front teeth. He briefly entertained the notion of what it would be like to have children of his own someday. Omar shook his head. If he married, it would be for duty and children would be a part of that. Would he ever be content to be around children that he would have to compromise for? If he stayed as he was, then well his chances of having them, even adopting, would be slim to none. Would I ever meet another man who would want them as much as I would? he thought and realized that it didn't matter. He really had no close connections with anyone else male or female. A couple anonymous sessions in men's rooms to relieve sexual tension and of course the endless family parties and gatherings to introduce him to females were the amounts of his social life now. So, another man wasn't even in the equation. Omar wasn't even sure that he wanted to go through that frustration and heartache once again. Besides the only man he ever even remotely considered a future with had walked out of his life long ago and there was no turning back. Omar laughed gruffly at the notion of even picturing a future with a committed male lover and a child. It was pathetic, ridiculous. Frida stared at her uncle in silence, her eyes widening in confusion at Omar's behavior. Omar shook his head and turned to the picture. "Who's in the picture?"
"It's my mama," Frida said sadly. "She died when I was three."
"Oh," Omar said. "My mother died too almost two years ago," because he couldn't think of anything else to say.
"Was it in an accident too?" Frida asked.
"Something like that," Omar said not wanting to depress the girl with the details.
"Do you still miss her?" the young girl inquired returning to the picture.
"Yes, I do," Omar agreed. "Every day." Frida nodded. The two stood in silence for a long time. Omar was about to turn around and head for the main room when Frida called to him. "Uncle Omar, do you think it's alright?"
Omar turned around. "Do I think what's alright?"
Frida stopped drawing and her eyes watered. "That Papa and I love Tania too? You don't think she's sad or angry do you?"
Omar pulled up a seat next to the girl. He absently put his hand on top of hers. "Frida, I think that your mother would want you and your father to be happy. You have probably spent a long time missing her, haven't you?" Frida nodded. "I'm sure so has your father. I bet your Mama is watching you and smiling that you have a new friend in Tania and that your father has found someone to love."
"I love her too," Frida said. Omar nodded at the girl. "I hope Papa marries her someday. Do you think that they will?"
Omar shrugged. "If they love each other and it is to be, I'm sure they will. Of course Tania can be a bit stubborn, but I bet your father can convince her."
Frida giggled. "Do you love someone the way my Papa and Tania love each other?"
Omar stopped for a moment at the inquisitive girl. "I used to," Omar said sadly.
"Well what happened?" Frida asked. "Did she die too? Or he?" Omar looked puzzled and Frida grinned. "Papa's an artist. I know lots of people like that."
Omar laughed. "It was a he and no he didn't die. It wasn't meant to be. Sometimes people are too different."
"Do you still love him?" Frida asked. Omar was saved from answering by the timely arrival of Tania and Max. He sighed with relief and pointed to the window. "Look your father and Tania are here." Frida jumped from the sofa, sketchpad in hand as she followed her uncle out the backroom.
Frida chatted with her father and his girlfriend. Tania looked upset. "Is something wrong?" Omar asked. Tania shook her head deciding not to tell Omar that she spoke with Johnny. She figured that was something that he should do on his own. "Well, I have to go. Must get ready for the party. Would you like to come?" He jeered the last part and Tania smirked and glared at her cousin. Omar laughed bitterly as he accompanied the three out the door.
Omar adjusted his tie as he entered the party. He had a few reasons to visit the party. The first was to retain the public face of the business. The second reason was to see Salim. He passed by Cherry. She hardly had the pregnant mother-to-be glow. In fact she looked pale and nauseous. She was dressed in her black fur coat and a black maternity gown. "Hi, Cherry," Omar asked. "Have you seen your husband?"
"When you know, I will know," she said obviously distracted. Omar entered the men's portion of the party.
He nodded at Zaki as the two had finalized their partnership that morning. "Good time," Omar asked noticing his voice taking on the heightened speed tones that It did whenever he wanted to talk business.
"Of course, Omar," Zaki replied, offering the young man a brandy which he accepted. "You know Omar, you have a lot of spirit and I like that not just in a partner, but in family." He turned to Nassar. "Did you tell him the news Nassaar?"
Nassar shook his head looking a little like a cat that got caught eating a canary. "What news, Uncle?" Omar asked suddenly feeling his hands shake. He needed a pill, but he remembered that he took them all. In fact he was going to see Salim when he got a free moment for a refill. I should have rationed them, Omar thought feeling the high beginning to leave. The exhilaration that he felt throughout the day was beginning to disappear and his mouth felt dry. He would have to see Salim soon if he could get away. Omar kept his eye on the front door. He wasn't there yet, so when the hell would he get there?
Nassar took his nephew by the shoulder. "Well, Zaki's niece is visiting from Karachi. It would please us greatly if you would show her around London. Perhaps we could make more than a business relationship. "Omar put his hand on his forehead. He knew where this was going. "Are you alright, my boy?" Nassar asked.
"Just fine, Uncle," Omar replied. He leaned closer to his uncle. "I don't really know if I will have time. There are many things that I must do with the launderette and this partnership with Zaki is getting off the ground."
Nassar and Zaki laughed loudly, too loudly in Nassar's case. "Omar, one must work, but one must make time as well for the ladies, deliver his seed for his future," Zaki hinted.
"I know but the more one works, the more one can prepare for their future," Omar disagreed.
"Omar, may I see you alone," Nassar asked tightly. He led Omar to the hallway. "You have turned down every offer that we have made to introduce you to ladies. Tania was a mistake, I will admit that. But we have to get you married eventually. You make every sort of excuse to avoid meeting girls, what is your excuse this time?"
"You know why I can't," Omar reminded him.
"I know, but not everyone else does," Nasser whispered harshly. "I am not about to tell all of my colleagues that my eligible nephew is a fairy!"
Omar gritted his teeth trying to bury the resentment that he was beginning to feel. "Uncle, I work at the launderette 60 hours a week. I attend every function, support all of the right local clubs. I take care of Papa hold him when he falls, refresh his memory when he is too drunk to remember my name. I do everything for this family. The least you could do is allow me this!"
"This isn't a fucking negotiation," Nassar snapped. He pushed Omar closer so no one could hear their words. "You do what is expected of you and nothing else!"
Regardless of how I feel in the matter? Omar wanted to say but he knew the argument was useless. The high was definitely gone now and the pressure was building up like a cooker ready to explode. Omar needed the pills and he needed them now. The young man sighed. He knew his uncle was beginning to understand his homosexuality up to a point, as long as it didn't interfere with their lives or business. Like everything in Nassar's life it was just a secret to hide in a corner, but was not to interfere with the life of making business. Omar suddenly felt exhausted.
He heard a familiar voice inside his head, You're just too content to let them run your life. That way you don't have to think about what you really want! Omar silently begged for the voice to shut up.
"Besides what has that given you?" Nassar asked.
Omar didn't want to answer his question. He thought of Johnny's arms around him, the secret kisses, the way that they made each other laugh, how they made love. Omar's mind focused on Johnny on top of him, tough and tender, so loving and ecstatic. Suddenly, Johnny's image transformed into Genghis and his hard brutal assault. He pushed himself on top of Omar cutting the young man under him. Omar shook his head trying to get the image out of his mind trying to force these thoughts as the face in his mind shifted from Johnny to Genghis and back again. Would remembering Johnny ever keep Genghis from his thoughts? Did it matter, weren't they the same man anyway? What had being a homosexual gotten him except a broken heart ? Omar caught his breath to keep the panic from registering on his face then he faced his uncle.
He tried to be diplomatic and put a bland face on the issue. ". Would you excuse me for a minute?" he asked as he saw Salim enter the party. He put on his cat-like grin and greeted many of his relatives and colleagues. Salim stepped past Cherry. The two gave each other long stares as Cherry left the house.
Omar waited a few seconds. Then tapped Salim on the shoulder. "Upstairs," his cousin warned.
Omar followed Salim as the two walked upstairs into one of the fancy bedrooms. Omar entered as Salim glanced out the window. "Is something the matter, Salim?" Omar asked."Is Cherry alright?"
"Not if I have anything to say," Salim glowered.
Omar gulped. He hoped his older relative wasn't planning something too crazy. "Salim, remember you are getting a child."
"I'm not even sure that the bastard is mine," Salim said. He motioned Omar over to the window. Omar glanced to see Cherry outside. The black fur coat and the dark maternity gown gave her away. She glanced right and left, then walked from the large driveway. Omar kept his eyes on the woman's retreating body. She reached the gate and glanced as a black car slowed down and pulled up to the house. She glanced around as she entered the car.
"Every other night at 7:30 for the past four months she enters that same car," Salim said, his voice was hypnotic and icy. "She then exits it past midnight. Sometimes she gets phone calls and becomes very nervous when I enter the room."
"What are you going to do to her?" Omar asked, feeling very frightened.
"Nothing yet," Salim threatened. Omar gulped terrified. He turned to Omar all threats gone from his face and voice. "Which one?" He asked. Besides the amphetamines, Omar had been taking barbiturates to help him sleep.
"Both please," Omar pleaded. "Here's enough to cover both." Omar waited as Salim counted the money. "You don't have to worry. No one does the books at the launderette besides me, No one would know."
Salim handed the younger man two bags of pills. Omar sighed with relief and popped one in his mouth. He felt the familiar zing of the drug take effect as the early part of the high began. "Make these last," Salim warned. "I won't be in much of a charitable mood next time."
Omar nodded. "I know, thanks Salim," he said as he placed the pills in his pocket. He ran down the stairs to rejoin the party. He took a few drinks feeling buzzed with the pills already in effect.
Omar spoke to his friends and relatives loudly, laughing non-stop at jokes, kissing female relatives. He was in the middle of a conversation with his uncle, once again about Zaki's niece, when he seemed closed in. The faces of the people around him swirled into colors and shapes. The closer people came to him, the more frightened Omar became. "She will be arriving from Heathrow tomorrow at 7:00. Are you listening? Omar are you alright my boy?" Nassar asked, his voice sounding far away like he was speaking through a hollow tube even though he was right next to his nephew.
Omar looked around as Nassar put his hand on his shoulder. In Omar's mind, he could see Genghis on top of him practically taking his life with his assault. Genghis jumped on top of him telling him that if screamed that he would kill him. Omar covered his ears. "Go away," he whispered. "Go away," he repeated louder. "Go away!" He said fiercely as he pushed the image of Genghis' hands from him.
"Omar, behave yourself boy," Nassar interrupted. Omar returned from his flashback at his flushed and concerned uncle. Some partiers turned around to look at the two.
"I'm alright, Uncle Nassar," Omar said. He began to giggle to prove it. His head began to swim uncontrollably as he swayed back and forth. The alcohol and the amphetamine combine d to give him an uncontrollable feeling of dazed euphoria. His giggles became louder as he felt dizzy. Nassar held onto the boy to steady him, but Omar rejected his uncle's touch. The images continued to sway as Omar's mind felt foggy. "I think I'm going to have some air, alright?" Nassar held Omar by the arm.
"Where are you going?" Nassar asked. Omar wouldn't answer, but again he felt nervous, agitated, and irritated. "Do you care nothing for your reputation for your family?"
Omar laughed harder as the images swirled in front of him. He felt the pressure from Genghis on top of him once more. He felt as though he were constantly surrounded by his relatives, Johnny's crowd. Each one was pushing and pulling on him. Omar tried to hold back the scream that was coming to him. "So, it's your shirt lifter fucking guys nephew to the rescue again, eh? Get the right job, marry the right girl. So you want me to fix your family, fix your business, and fix your house? Fix your own!" He said. Many partygoers stared at Omar as he spoke loudly. Bilques motioned forward standing behind her husband. She held an arm to his shoulder as if to keep him from striking his nephew. Omar stared at his aunt and uncle as he headed for the door. He held the door knob to say one more thing. "Tania's back. She's got a boyfriend now, with a kid! Why don't you go fuck with their lives for awhile?" He stormed out leaving a stunned Nassar behind.
Omar drove his car down an abandoned street. He was about to turn at a green light when the car stopped. "No, no don't," Omar begged. "Not tonight." But the car's stalled engine was his only answer. Then, it died. Omar let exited the car. "You couldn't have at least waited until I pulled over!" He yelled and then kicked the car. He then trotted off to look for a phone to call someone to pick up the car and to tell his father that he was coming home as soon as possible.
He walked down the street feeling someone watching him. Omar tensed ready to defend himself if need be. He glanced out of the corner of his eye to see a figure approaching him. Omar walked rather quickly. He was consciously aware that his steps were getting faster as he noticed the person following him was getting faster. What if it's Genghis? Omar thought What else could that bastard do to me? The memories of that rape filled him again with revulsion and fear. He slapped his forehead to keep them from coming. He then broke into a run as the figure ran after him. Omar turned around a corner as a pair of arms grabbed him too closely. Omar pushed the person away. "Let go of me!"he yelled in his mind seeing Genghis grabbing hold. "Let go!" He scratched the man's face as he called his name.
"Omo, it's me," a familiar voice said. Omar stopped struggling and looked closer at his assailant.
"Johnny!" Omar called. He wrapped his arms and kissed his lover hungrily partly out of relieving sexual frustration and partly on high from the amphetamine. "Where have you been you bastard? " He pushed him originally playfully, but then he became rougher, more aggressive as if all of the frustrations of the past few months f filled him. He continued to punch and punch at Johnny repeating "Where were you? Where were you?" until he fell into Johnny's arms out of breath.
"I've been away," Johnny said. "I've been trying to forget everything, them, the launderette, you!" He held Omar tightly in his arms. "I have seen Tania. She says you're doing well."
Omar laughed bitterly. Johnny could see the dilated pupils in his former lover and hear the tense laugh. "Yes so well." He laughed again dangerously. Johnny stepped back fearful that his former lover was going mad. "You don't know what's happened to me! You went away! What difference does it make to you?" Johnny approached him as Omar stepped away. "Keep away!" Johnny dropped his arms stunned at Omar's reaction.
Johnny followed his lover taking his arm, but Omar shoved it away. "What's gotten into you?"
Omar turned to Johnny and laughed again in a way that made the punk uneasy. "Why don't you ask your mate Genghis?" Johnny looked confused but very uncomfortable. Then the truth dawned on him. He muttered "Son of a bitch!" he yelled louder. "That son of a bitch!"
Omar approached Johnny slowly taking on a seductive purring tone. "Don't you want to show me that the only thing the only thing I am good for to a pure Englishman?" This time Johnny looked stricken. "Genghis told me what you two did!"
Johnny winced at the memory, the one that drove him from his old gang finally, a few months ago. Genghis had lured the young boy out: a small skinny kid not more than 14. Johnny approached them. He turned his head not wanting to look the lad in the eye, but when he did those eyes haunted him, accusing him. In his mind, the young boy shifted transformed into an innocent pair of bright eyes that never left Johnny for a moment. The boy transformed into Omar! Johnny ran from that scene, running from the boy's screams of pain and his former friend's grunts of satisfaction.
"I didn't! I watched it, but I didn't do it," Johnny declared knowing how useless that argument was. "I don't belong with them no more! How many times am I gonna say that?"
Omar stopped laughing and then shoved him again. "Do you think that fucking matters? Do you really belong with me?" Johnny couldn't give an answer so Omar shoved him again this time with more anger. "Fuck you, Johnny! Just fuck you!" Omar started to walk away but Johnny followed him again. "Fuck you!" Omar yelled as he pushed the punk. Johnny once again wrapped his arms around the young Pakistani man and kissed him. Omar again swore, "Fuck you," but his voice had no malice.
Johnny pushed Omar against the wall and kissed him again. When Omar spoke again, his voice was drained but filled with longing. "Fuck me," Omar pleaded. "Fuck me." He returned Johnny's kiss as the loneliness of the past few months consumed both men and they kissed locked in their own private hurts embracing as if the world was coming to an end.
From far away, Genghis watched the two lovers. He glowered. He claimed Omar so Johnny would never want him. That Paki had no business defiling him. Those savages took everything from them! It was about time he took action! None of this hoodlum shit! He would stick it to that Paki in a way that he will never forget and no foreigner would!
August, 1977-
That summer was hot and sweltering enough; the type of summer where everyone was at one another's throats already. Tensions had been exploding all year in violent spurts and demonstrations, but it was the arrest of the 21 young black boys that was the final straw.
Omar stood at the front of the meeting hall proudly passing out leaflets to passers-by. He handed a leaflet to a woman who said thanks. Inside, he could hear the members of the All Lewisham Campaign Against Racism and Fascism cheering becoming more enthusiastic. The ALCARAF were protesting an upcoming march through Lewis ham that was organized by the National Front. Both sides had many supporters and had more than a few heated exchanges on the matter.
Omar could hear the mayor of Lewis ham finish his speech quoting from his father's recent editorial from a Socialist newspaper protesting the National Front's demonstrations. 'Webster says that 'multi racial society is wrong and is evil.' Well, I ask you which is more evil, those who defend the rights of all or those who demonize all but the few that they think deserve those rights? Who is more evil, the fighters for justice or the demons against it?" The crowd clapped and cheered. From his post, so did Omar filled with pride at his father's words. He had seen Ali night after night struggle with that editorial crafting the right words to incite the public. Omar was thrilled to hear his father's words excite the crowd. It was moments like this that made Ali a hero to Omar.
Omar glanced across the street after he passed leaflets to a married couple. He saw the smaller group, shouting insults at the ALCARAF meeting. Omar made out the banner that said: Support England! Support Webster! Join the march! Gang members waved Union Jacks and the National Front logo. "Would you like a leaflet?" Omar shouted to a woman to drown out the insults.
"Of course dear," the matronly woman said accepting the leaflet.
Omar kept his eyes focused on the group of young men at the front of the NF group. They had made a tight circle cheering as the others had. The group chanted "Make England pure! Make England pure!"
One of the young men jumped and cheered with delight until he met Omar's eyes. Omar and Johnny stared at each other from across the street and stopped for a few minutes. The two zeroed in on each other as though they were the only two people on the street. Just then the door to the hall opened. Omar stepped aside as the crowd left the hall. The retreating ALCARAF members only caused the National Front members to chant louder. "Make England pure! Make England pure!" the NF members gained momentum as Omar noted, even Johnny took part in the chanting and marching. Omar turned away trying to ignore his friend..
The ALCARAF's mostly ignored them as they returned to their cars or walked down the road. Some chanted "Stop the National Front! Stop the National Front!" to drown them out. Ali approached Omar and wrapped an arm around his son' shoulders. "There how was that?" he asked grandly.
Omar took one last look at a chanting Johnny then turned to his father. "It was good, Papa, you had them cheering!" He squeezed his father by the shoulder.
"I hope my editorial does more than that," Ali replied. He pulled on Omar's arm. "Come Omar." Once again the boy glanced longingly at his friend. "Omar come."Ali said more urgently.
Two nights later, Omar ran to Johnny eagerly as the two fell into another of their secret kisses. "I'm sorry, I'm late, I had to wait until Papa had left."
"I can't stay long anyway," Johnny blushed as Omar approached him. "So, we'd better make it worth it." Omar leapt into his lover's arms as the two made love. Omar and Johnny got more involved in their lovemaking process. He remembered how nervous and awkward Omar was at first. He remembered after they had agreed to meet in secret, Johnny candidly asked if Omar had his first time with Johnny. Omar blushed and stammered. "Yes, I've never done it with anyone before. You?"
Johnny shrugged. "I've bonked a few here and there." Omar's long face showed his disappointment and Johnny amended his earlier sentence. "But you're the only one that I wanted to bonk more than once. You're the only one that ever mattered."
Omar laughed at Johnny's attempt at sincerity. "If that's bollocks, it's the nicest bollocks I've ever heard."
The two continued to have sex and lay wrapped in each other's arms. "We need to find a new place to meet," Johnny said. "I thought I saw Genghis spying on me, when I left yesterday."
Omar sighed. "I'm sure we'll think of somewhere."
"I know you hate this sneaking around bullshit," Johnny said. "So do I, but you know no one will accept us."
"It will change someday," Omar said firmly. "Someday, people won't care that we're two men, that we're different races. Someday, we can walk down the streets of London just like any couple."
"I wish I could believe that," Johnny said so quietly that his words were muffled by his lips on the top of Omar's head. He glanced at his watch. Johnny removed himself from Omar's grasp and got dressed. "I have to go," Johnny said. "I've got an NF meeting. We've got to stop these ALCARAF wankers from making asses of us."
Omar rolled his eyes. "One of those ALCARAF wankers is my father remember? And all he is trying to do is make England democratic for everyone. He's been so preoccupied since the police profiled those men just because they were immigrants."
"So, they may have been doing some shit, just because they were immigrants don't mean they were harmless," Johnny stood up. Omar stood next to him his arms crossed.
"Just because they were immigrants doesn't mean they were doing anything wrong , either," Omar snapped. " Papa says that there are more immigrants arrested than white English people, particularly from Pakistan, India, the West Indies. It can't be a coincidence."
"It doesn't matter what they've done," Johnny declared. "It matters what they are doing to our country. Keeping us from working, taking our jobs, invading our homes-"
"They or us," Omar reminded him. "Papa says that's just an excuse so that Englishmen can bully anyone they choose. He says-"
"-Papa says," Johnny mocked. "How come I don't hear your thoughts instead of your father's? Don't you ever think for yourself, Omo?"
"I've seen it too," Omar snapped. "At school, on the streets, I'm not completely sheltered. I've seen many people like me bullied, threatened! Some have been forced out into the streets and beaten severely while crowds just watched! Do your National Front friends ever tell you that?" Johnny wouldn't answer so Omar spoke again. "I'm not the only who doesn't think for himself, then, am I?"
The two stood in silence for a few minutes, the accusations of the outside world hung in the air. Neither touched each other instead they stood not wanting to be enemies, but not sure what to say next to preserve their friendship. Johnny was the first to speak. "Shit, you know none of that means anything here. It's all just words, just words. It doesn't change a thing with you, doesn't change a thing here, right?" He took Omar's hand almost as if they were reciting wedding vows.
Omar nodded wanting to believe that. "Nothing, it's just words," Omar answered. "Just words." The two kissed one more time, for a moment all racism, all anger, the problems in the outside world didn't exist. The only thing that existed were just the two of them locked in their secret embrace. They kissed one last time. "Gotta go," Johnny said as he slipped away.
Omar sneaked back into the flat. He hoped that his parents were asleep. He slipped off his shoes and was about to tip-toe to his room, when the sitting room light flooded on. Omar turned to see his father seated on his recliner. "Switching sides on me, eh?" he asked dryly.
"No, Papa," Omar replied. "I was just hanging out with some friends."
Ali nodded. "A specific friend?"Omar's long look gave the answer. "Omar, he's not worth it. He is part of that fascist group."
"He isn't like that though," Omar defended him. "We still have fun together." More fun than he wanted to tell his father, Omar thought. "He's still my friend."
"Is he?" Ali asked. "Does he admit that you are still his friend? Do you still often meet in public? What about the girls that he sees? Are they all blond, blue eyed Englishwomen? Does he tell certain jokes, say certain things only to stop if you are in front of them? If there was no understanding between you, no years of friendship, would he still be your friend?"
Omar could find no answer to his father's probing questions. "You're wrong, Papa." Omar said.
"Are you sure?" Ali asked. His son looked down having no answer. "Maybe, I am. But there comes a time when everyone must choose sides, Omar. Which side are you on?" Omar looked at his father in silence but walked to his room. He didn't hear his father whisper ".I hope for your sake Omar that I am wrong."
Johnny picked up an English flag as the other National Front stepped in formation ready to march. Genghis and he led Moose and the other boys and some girls into the chant. "Immigrants out!" and other phrases. He felt a righteous indignation as he marched with the others. Since he left school, he had been unable to find work (not that school ever did any good for him anyway) and he had seen many others like him and hearing about the problems immigrants caused. He was angry, furious, and he found himself more and more listening to Webster and Tyndall. Not just half-listening but silently disagreeing, he really listened and followed their moves, attended the rallies, and became more involved. He sometimes found himself walking down a street and seeing Asians or Africans and wondering what they were planning. He alternated between laughing at the jokes that his friends told, and hating himself for laughing. He then shut that inner objection by laughing harder and getting angrier. Sometimes, he enjoyed jeering at the immigrants sometimes verbally and physically waiting until the rage could be released and he could be numb again.
The only thing that hadn't unraveled was his relationship with Omar. He tried to keep it as secret as possible. He kept telling himself that he was doing this for Omar's benefit so none of his mates could bother him, but the truth was the more committed that he was to the National Front goals, the more disgusted that he felt at his relationship with his friend, a homosexual affair was bad enough but with a Pakistani at that! He wasn't sure what bothered him more.
Their earlier scene disgusted him. He was trying to explain what they were doing their plans for a better England and Omar was once again blindly defending people like his spineless father. He was getting more and more irritated with his friend and wearied of living a double life with someone he shouldn't be with anyway. Maybe it would be better if Omar and his family just took the hint and left. That way they could be with their own people! Johnny continued to march and chant blocking any more thoughts of Omar and his family from his mind!
Omar and Daviya walked to the market. They tried to keep their conversation to safe topics and not the current situation. Ali wanted his son to take part in the demonstration, but she put her foot down and for the first time kept it down. "If you want to make a fool of yourself that wouldn't bother me, but our son does not need to get hurt by all of this!" Ali was furious, but he permitted Daviya to have her way especially when Omar tried to keep peace between the two by reminding his father that he needed the opportunity to study for his A-Level exam, nodded realizing that Omar's education was as important to him as it was to his wife and son. Omar passing his Levels was the only way that he could obtain a scholarship and be accepted to University. Omar silently congratulated himself for hedging off another argument between his parents. They had been having them so much lately.
The mother and son walked across an occupied street, their arms full of groceries. "Are you prepared for your exams?" Daviya asked.
"Trying to be Mama," Omar replied.
"You know your father and I are counting on you," Daviya said. Omar sighed. He had heard this line many times."We know you are capable of doing many great things."
"I know, Mama," he answered. The two stopped to let cars pass and Daviya looked closely at her teenage son. "Maybe I can be like Uncle Nassar," Omar suggested.
Daviya bristled. "He is someone that I would never want you to model your life after." She leaned closer to her son trying to understand his needs and worries. "Omar, there is much that troubles you," Daviya began. "I can only begin to understand it, but know that I always love you know matter what lifestyle that you lead."
Omar looked at his mother quizzically wondering how much that she knew. Years later, he had always regretted that he didn't ask her more.
The two crossed the street to see a crowd standing by a road as if to let a parade pass. Daviya tried to push her son away from it, but Omar walked closer to New Cross seeing the ALCARAF standing in a large group as if forming a chain keeping the National Front from getting closer. The marching Englishmen came forward like a threatening tidal wave of prejudice and hatred. The police marched with them as they yelled "Stop the muggers!" Daviya pulled her son back as the ALCARAF headed for the other group ready to stop them. Omar watched fascinated while Daviya clenched her son on the arm so hard that it hurt him. "Do you see your father?" Daviya whispered harshly her voice strangled with fear.
Omar looked at the ALCARAF group and shook his head. The two groups clashed as they threw more than words at each other. The two groups approached each other and collided like two waves finally pushing towards each other to create a catastrophe. The people standing on the sidelines entered the fray. The two groups began to attack each other with bricks and bottles. The police ran towards the crowds trying their best to break up the chaos. Daviya clung to Omar sobbing. Omar held onto his mother feeling rooted and helpless.
Several smoke bombs were thrown into the chaos. Johnny couldn't see. He coughed trying to keep sight of Genghis or any of his other friends. Various immigrants and Englishman fought at each other. Johnny pushed someone trying to keep his balance. He ran towards the round body that he knew was Genghis. The smoke was dark and he saw someone attack his friend. He couldn't see clearly but saw Genghis fall at his assailant. "No," Johnny gasped. He screamed grabbing a bottle and threw it on the nearest immigrant's head in anger. The voice gasped. "Johnny?" Johnny looked at the voice and dropped the top of the bottle when Ali sank down blood emerging from his forehead no doubt from the bottle that Johnny had just thrown at him. Johnny glanced at his best friend and lover's father but said nothing as he marched past the ALCARAF and tried to reunite with his friends.
Omar screamed. "Papa!" as he saw his father fall. He pulled himself from his mother's arms and approached the melee.
"Omar, come back," Daviya yelled but Omar paid no attention to his mother's voice. He pushed past the fighters ducking to avoid any weapons, and coughing at the smoke. He ran to his father's body. He was so still that Omar was afraid that he was dead. Omar shook his head feeling tears come to his eyes as he approached him. Ali's attacker ran from the body. Omar felt the smoke enter his throat and nose and his body churn as Johnny backed away from him. Omar winced not wanting to believe his love could hurt his father. He shut his eyes wanting the horrible scene to disappear.
Ali coughed as Omar knelt down. Ali tried to sit up as his son held onto him by the shoulders. "Come on, Papa," Omar said. "You need to get out of here."
Ali leaned against his son for physical and emotional support. He stood on shaky legs and felt the pain on his head. "Still think he's your friend," Ali joked sardonically. Omar didn't answer as he walked his father out of the smoke and the dwindling fight.
A rough hand grabbed Ali by the shoulder. The father and son turned to see a policeman standing over them. He grabbed Ali by the arm. "You are coming with me," he said tersely.
"He isn't going with you," Omar objected determined holding onto his father. "He's hurt! He needs a doctor!"
"He's coming with us," the police officer shouted his voice getting fiercer. He pulled Ali away from his son.
Omar was about to say more when Ali held a hand to his son's shoulder. "Omar, sometimes it's best to know when to surrender." Omar let go of his father's shoulder as Ali turned to the police officer silent as he slapped handcuffs on him and arrested him with other demonstrators for disturbing the peace and rioting.
Omar watched the declining protestors as they were rounded up, arrested, or carried on ambulances. Some smaller groups ran to another stop ready to continue to fight. He didn't see Johnny anywhere, and Omar wasn't sure that he would want to. He returned to his mother forcing himself to feel numb so that his heart wouldn't break anymore than it already had.
Johnny and Omar didn't see each other again after that day.