Love and Rockets
Chapter Three: Eyes Without a Face
Omar rubbed his forehead in annoyance not paying attention to his growing fatigue as he spoke on the phone to the irate caller. "I assure you Mrs. Buck- Bouquet," he corrected before the caller repeated the pronunciation of her name for the 10th time. "My employees and I are perfectly capable of handling your intimate delicate apparels. " She continued before he interrupted. "Even your rose pink Princess Margaret style undergarments." Inwardly, Omar couldn't help but snigger at the words. "Thank you madam, good-bye." He was about to hang up the phone as the Bucket woman continued to natter on about her son, Sheridan. He sounds like a man I should date, Omar thought sarcastically. He made a scratching sound with his throat. "What madam, I can't hear you…very bad reception here, good-bye," He hung up the phone and took a deep breath to ignore the constricting feeling that gnawed his chest.
It wasn't the phone call from that awful Bucket woman that bothered him. He had been feeling these sudden surges of panic for months now. He felt it when his father became ill and disoriented and he could only stand by helplessly and watch. He felt it whenever he stayed late at the launderette certain that something was going to go wrong. He felt it whenever he attended one of his family's claustrophobic gatherings in an attempt to get him engaged and all he could do was smile and nod. The more that he tried to hide the panic, the more that it built up inside him. He felt like his insides were wound up tight like a wire, tightening ever further waiting to pop.
Each time, he would be paralyzed with an unnamed fear that something would go wrong. No matter how many times, he tried to assure himself that it would not. The young man gripped the table until his knuckles turned white. He took a few deep breaths as though he were gasping for air, then he slowly brought himself back to reality. I beat it for now, Omar thought. For now that was enough.
He left the office and greeted Gigi and Del. The two younger teenagers had responded to the advertisement that Omar had placed. Gigi, a short girl with shorn white-blond hair and dressed in a magenta slashed sweater and Guess jeans with stickers. Gigi helped a young woman put what appeared to be her entire wardrobe into a small washer assuring her that they would wash. The other woman occasionally cursed and threw various items on the floor in a rage. Omar nodded for Gigi to put the fallen clothes away. He made a mental note to call the rag and bone men to pick them up, if she didn't want them. Omar continued to help other customers, preventing some young punks from putting food in a washer, and other activities when he walked closer to Del. Del worked on a dryer that looked like it was finally reaching the end of its working days.
"How's it going Del?" Omar asked. The tall black 17 year old broke from his humming to break the tedium and stood next to his employer. He towered over Omar by a head as he positioned his fingers like a gun and pretended to shoot the washing machine.
"Last day, I'm afraid, mate," Del replied. Omar leaned over to glance at the wiring. Gigi followed close behind also observing.
"You know it looks like the wiring right there is loose," she said.
"Nah, definitely the spigot, "Del suggested. "We need a spanner to fix this thing."
"No, it needs to have the wiring replaced," Gigi continued testily. Omar rolled his eyes. Gigi and Del almost had an act going as though they shared the same brain. They constantly argued, almost turning their speech into a game. He knew some of their history. The two grew up together, as best friends and occasionally dated when no one else was around. So, they had a strange almost brother-sister relationship that they continued to pursue even through their teen years.
"Gigi, shouldn't you be helping other people?" Omar reminded the blond girl.
"Ah the lady was just giving away all her ex's stuff," Gigi replied. "She wasn't planning on washing them. I guess she wanted to throw them to his new girlfriend or something."
"Terrific," Omar said sarcastically. "Let's take a look at what's left of this useless thing." He leaned closer to examine the workings. He was so wrapped up in the washing machine that he didn't notice the door open until he felt another presence behind him and heard a female voice say "So this is what you do in your spare time."
Omar recognized the voice, and stepped aside. He grinned excited! "Oh my god, Tania!" He embraced his cousin. "It's been almost a year –where have you been?"
Gigi and Del looked at the woman exchanging amused glances. "Oh sorry, Tania Hussein my cousin this is Gigi Deville and Del Johnston. They work for me." Tania shook their hands.
"Nice to meet you," Tania replied. Then she turned to Omar. "There's a lot that I need to say to you. Is there somewhere private that we can talk?"
Omar looked around confused at the crowd of people. This was a busy time, but- He turned to Gigi and Del. "Can you two watch the launderette for a half hour or so? I'll be right back."
"Sure, go," Del offered. "We'll call you if there's an emergency.
"Yeah, like if the machines spring a leak and the whole place is flooded." Gigi said excited.
"Or if thieves come in and hold the place up for ransom," Del agreed.
"Or an earthquake hits and suddenly we're the only survivors," Gigi added.
"The thieves would be more likely," Del reminded her.
"Yeah, but the flood would leave use less time to get help," Gigi
Yeah but-"Del continued until Omar interrupted.
Omar nodded interrupted the two knowing if he didn't stop them, they would never shut up. "Alright, you two, I understand. I leave it in your capable hands." He turned to Tania. "Step into my office." He invited.
He waited until she was seated and offered her a drink. "Gigi and Del, you have to love them. So how have you been? What's been up with you?"
"Well it's a long story," Tania replied. "I got as far as Paris, and I ran out of money. So, I ended up working in this bistro. It was a sort of place that had a lot of artists, intellectuals, writers, activists. It was a very unique crowd. It was all really exciting. I attended a few meetings, even sat in on some classes and I met Latika Milani." Omar smiled impressed. Tania nodded. "You know of her."
Omar nodded wryly. "Yeah, the writer. She left Pakistan about the same time as my father. In fact they were friends, well that's rather a loose term-"
"-They used to fight constantly," Tania repeated. "When I told her my surname she asked if I was- now what were her exact words? Oh yes, 'that stubborn old fool' Ali Hussein's daughter."
"As I recall, Papa had a few choice phrases about Latika as well," Omar answered.
The cousins laughed good naturedly. "So, Latika took me in and hired me as her assistant and researcher so now I'm here in London doing some research for her."
"Well that's nice," Omar smiled. "I'm glad to see that things are working out for you." There seemed to be an unspoken tension as though Omar left the "for you" unsaid.
"There is another reason, I'm here, actually three reasons" Tania replied. "The first reason is for Latika and the second well think of this as 'Tania Hussein's Apology Tour 1985.' There has been a lot going on and I've been doing a lot of thinking about how I left things particularly with you and Johnny. I owe you and Johnny an apology. I knew that you two were in love and I was jealous, angry and stupid. I should never have tried to come between you. I hope that you both can forgive me."
"Well I can't speak for Johnny, but I do," Omar answered. "I think we all behaved pretty badly, then."
"Thanks," Tania replied. "Where's Johnny? I should talk to him as well."
Omar's face fell. "He no longer works here."
Tania glanced around. "But you two are still together-right?"
"Point of fact," Omar replied shortly. "He no longer works at the launderette and he is no longer in my life. In fact, I haven't seen him since the day that he left." Tania clicked her tongue in sympathy.
"Well can I be honest," Tania asked. "Why? You two seemed willing to face anything. He told once that he wanted to stay and fight it out with you."
"Well he obviously didn't mean it," Omar said sharply. "If he wanted to go, then that's his business."
"And you don't think about him at all?" Tania inquired.
Omar shook his head not wanting to say more. Technically, he once thought of Tania as a rival. How could he tell her of the erotic dreams that he still had sometimes waking up in a cold sweat missing him? Could he mention the many times that he saw the back of another man's head and had to bite his lip to call out Johnny's name before the man turned around and he realized that it wasn't him? Could he tell her that he dialed the phone number that Johnny gave him, just to hang up when he heard his mother's voice? That he alternated between hating himself for acting so silly and love sick, but also hated himself for letting Johnny get away from him and now he had no way of finding or reaching him.
He couldn't tell Tania about these feelings, so he decided to change the subject. "Is your Apology Tour going to extend to your father?"
"Ah, now that's a subject that I don't want to discuss," Tania replied sheepishly. "I haven't seen him and I would rather keep my return here in London a secret from him."
"He misses you Tania," Omar replied. "You know how he is, he won't say so but he does I can tell."
"If I go back, then that undoes everything that I've accomplished the past few months," Tania replied. "I can't…I can't face him yet."
Omar laughed bitterly. "I'm sure that your father will understand that you have a life of your own. It's not like you're married or pregnant."
Tania's face broke into a radiant grin and Omar wondered if he had spoken too soon. "Which brings me to my third reason for being in London. " She smiled as she glanced out the front window. A man and a small girl entered the launderette. "I want you to meet someone."
Omar let the young woman into the main part of the launderette where she greeted the man. "Hey you," she said. Tania took the newcomer's hand.
"Hello there," the man said kissing Tania. He was a thin man with neck-length dark hair. He had a large grin that instantly lit up a room and his blue eyes seemed to shine with enthusiasm. The girl was a perfect image of the man with her dark hair cut in a page boy style and her shining blue eyes. She tapped Tania on the shoulder.
The girl jumped excited. "Guess what? Papan took me to Trafalgar Square where I talked to the pigeons."
Tania laughed. "But you talk the pigeons all the time at home."
"Yes, but these are English pigeons. They might say something different," the girl insisted.
Tania smiled and turned to Omar. "Omar, I would like you to meet Max and Frida Ruben."
Omar shook Max's hand and waved hello to Frida. "Nice to meet both of you." He glanced at Tania surprised. "You haven't even been away a whole year!"
Tania and Max laughed as they held hands and he grabbed Frida by the shoulder. "Actually, she's mine," Max replied. "I met Tania in Paris." Omar noticed that Max had a slight European accent coming from several places, French perhaps or German.
Tania nodded. "He's a friend of Latika's and she introduced us when he was giving a gallery show n Paris."
"You're an artist, then?" Omar asked.
Max nodded. "I'm a painter. I grew up all over Europe and eventually found my way to Paris with my little girl." He absently hugged Frida.
"Papan," Frida blushed embarrassed.
Max continued. "I met Latika and she introduced me to her lovely new assistant."
"Love at first sight?" Omar asked playfully.
Hardly," Tania glowered.
"Let's just say that it took some time but I got her around," Max said with pride.
"I'm still not completely sure that you did," Tania smirked but she smiled as though she were teasing and kissed Max who returned the affection.
"Are you my Uncle Omar?" Frida asked impudently.
Omar kneeled down at the little girl and Tania held her back embarrassed. "Frida, I already told you. Your father and I are not married."
"Well we discussed it," Max prompted.
"Nothing definite though," Tania reminded him.
"You know that Frida would like other relatives," Max reminded her.
"That's alright," Omar interrupted the two. He leaned down next to Frida. "You can call me Uncle Omar if you like. I don't mind. So what has Tania told you about me?" He asked.
The girl put her hand on her chin as if she were thinking. "Hmm, she said that you were really nice." Omar smiled. "And she said that you were so naïve that you would believe anything that anybody told you."
Omar smirked. "Did she now?" He glanced at Tania's flushed complexion. "Well maybe I should tell you about how she caught my attention at a party once."
Tania started and hit her cousin over the head. "No, you won't!" she laughed.
"Hey Omar," Del interrupted. "Some guy is unhappy with the service and wants to complain to the manager. Oh yeah and the Bucket woman called again." He sighed and made a circle motion by his ear. "Mad woman."
Omar sighed. "I have to go duty calls."
Tania nodded. "We have to go as well anyway. I have to do some work and Max has a gallery opening tonight." Max nodded.
"How long are you staying?" Omar asked.
Tania shrugged. "I don't know a week or two, I think. " She pulled closer to Omar. "I mean what I said about Johnny. You two should try to make it work."
"Are you going to talk to your father?" Omar asked. When she wouldn't answer, he snapped. "Then if you can't control your own life, don't ask me how to run mine!" Tania glared and stomped out of the launderette with Max and Frida in tow. "See you Omar," she said as she left.
Omar continued to work into the evening. It was a busy enough day that the young businessman didn't have to focus on his internal feelings. He continued to aid the customers, speak to fellow business people in the neighborhood about an upcoming meeting, square away the final policies with the insurance agent (He sighed glad that he and his uncle got that up and running), and talk to various people over the phone. The panic surges continued throughout the day. When he got a free second, Omar dialed a number.
"Hello?" Salim's voice answered.
"Hello Salim," Omar tried to sound cheerful. "How's Cherry?"
"Well she's constantly throwing up, complaining that she can no longer fit into her clothing, and blaming me for getting her in this predicament, other than that she's fine," Salim answered sarcastically.
"Well I'm sorry," Omar said.
"It doesn't matter, I'm getting a son that's all I care about," Salim replied. . Cherry was pregnant and would be delivering in a couple of months. Even though, Omar tried to maintain cordial relations with the couple, privately he felt sorry for their child. "Anyway, you sound like shit. Care to make a little money on the side?"
"Well I do want to talk to you," Omar looked right and left to make sure that no body was listening. "But I don't want to sell, I want to buy."
The phone line went quiet and Omar wasn't sure if Salim had hung up. When he spoke again, Salim was sarcastic, "Trouble at work? Or at home with your failure of a father? Perhaps your love life has gone under since the Fascist of your dreams walked out of your life?"
Omar didn't answer. "Let's just say that I need some help to get through the day."
"You do know how to take the stuff right?" Salim taunted.
"You make it sound like I never have, "Omar countered.
"And have you?" Salim asked sounding like he was talking to an impudent child who confessed that he knew how to swear.
Omar didn't answer. "I'll meet you wherever you like, just please help me," he pleaded.
"Alright," Salim agreed. "Meet me tomorrow near the bridge. We'll discuss the particulars there. Remember, if you don't pay you don't get anything." He hung up leaving behind a dial tone.
Omar continued to work even as the patrons thinned out for the evening. "Hey Omar," Del asked. Omar looked up at his employee who waved some tickets in the air. "Gi and I are going to a concert tonight." Omar nodded. Gigi had already informed him. "Want to come, we got an extra ticket?"
Omar shook his head. "I'll let you two go, but I'll stay. Someone has to work here."
"Ah, come on, Omar," Gigi said. "This place is almost closed." Omar looked straight at him and was about to speak when she and Del chorused with him. "This place never closes. "
"I taught you well," Omar grimaced. "If you want to go, go. I'll stay late." The couple hesitated as though they expected Omar to change his mind but Gigi took Del's hand and the two ran before their boss could disagree. They ran outside into the drizzling evening.
Omar continued to work until the last few people cleared out. He walked past the man on the phone. "Angela, I keep telling you that she meant nothing to me, it was true that Stephanie was smashing, and Phoebe was delightful, and Jane was good company time and again, but I find you-"
"Give it up, Gerard," Omar tapped the customer on the phone. "If Angela hasn't taken you back by now, she never will."
Gerard sighed at the empty dial tone and walked away. "'Night, mate. I sent her flowers but she sent them back as potpourri. Maybe, I should send her teddy bears."
"Oh no, think of the carnage," Omar said sarcastically.
"Well I will do what it takes to win her back, you know if you ever had someone wouldn't you do the same?" Gerard asked.
"Not if they didn't want me back," Omar said sourly. Gerard was about to say more, but left instead.
Omar balanced the books in the office, then took a broom outside to sweep. Despite his usual decisions to keep the place open all night, he considered going home. Instead, he changed his mind. He didn't feel the least bit tired, in fact he felt too keyed up to sleep. His mind continued to race with all the problems as though they were running after each other like someone constantly flipping channels on the telly: I will have to call someone to fix the washer. Some other machines could use repair. How much would that cost me? I had better call Papa? What if he's in no condition to be alone tonight, he has his good days and his bad. Please let this be a good day. Should I tell Nassar about Tania? No, let that be her decision besides they will try to marry us again. Oh get over it, Omar, Johnny is never going to want you again. Just do what they want. You do anyway. Each thought made his breath catch and he felt his heart race again.
The bell to the door jingled and Omar glanced at the new arrival. He was a stout man with short dark hair and wore ratted jeans and a brown overcoat over a t-shirt that advertised a band that Omar had never heard of. Omar glared at the arrival, because he recognized him.
"Got the place fixed up nice," Genghis smirked.
"Yes thank goodness," Omar quipped. "A real slob made a mess of things. We're closing."
"I thought this place 'never closed' "Genghis mocked standing too close to Omar. The young Pakistani man took an involuntary step away.
"Well we're closing now," Omar said. "If you want your clothes washed, you can try the machines over there and-"
"-I don't want my clothes washed, Paki," Genghis said the slur matter of fact as though that were Omar's name. Of course Omar reasoned that would always be his name to people like Genghis. "I want information like where Johnny is."
Omar started, but regained his composure before Genghis could notice. "How should I know? I'm sure he's with you and your friends. "He sneered.
Genghis laughed and Omar picked up the broom as if to use it as a weapon against the punk. "I assure you that when he was with us, he was certainly with you. He didn't enjoy the all-nighters, the fights against the system, and the battles against your kind. So, he disappeared a few weeks ago and we hadn't seen him since."
"What beating up on innocent immigrants lost its excitement for him?" Omar said sarcastically. "I wonder why. Maybe he finally gained a brain." Omar was sarcastic, but inside he was proud that Johnny left and hopeful that maybe he would come for him again.
He turned away, but Genghis grabbed his wrists, so hard that Omar dropped the broom. "What I can't figure out is what do you have that changed him? He works for you, sweeping, repairing glass and what not and something died in him when he comes back to us. I'm trying to figure out why? What do you have under there that can possibly interest him?"
Omar struggled to get away, but the harder he struggled the tighter Genghis' grip. "Let go of me!" he dared.
"Maybe if I found out you could make me a slave to Pakis, eh Jungle Boy," Genghis dared pulling to close to Omar. The neo-Nazi continued to taunt him with racial slurs as Omar struggled to get away. He then lifted his knee and kicked Genghis in the stomach. Genghis reared back, but then just as quickly stood and followed him. Omar unlocked the back room and was just about to close the door when Genghis kicked it wide open. He pushed Omar down, and then held back his arm. He ripped off his own trousers, then Omar's tossing them on the ground. Omar screamed in pain, feeling like Genghis was breaking his arm. The punk then covered his mouth. "If you scream, I will kill you," Genghis said as he mounted Omar and put a knife inside Omar's mouth as if to carry out his threat.
Omar continued to struggle under the other man as he raped him. This isn't happening, he said to himself, there is no way Genghis is doing this to me. He felt like he was floating outside his body and was watching the rape from afar. He couldn't do anything but say, "No, no," through clenched teeth. His teeth clenched the knife so tightly that the knife cut his lips making them bleed. Genghis laughed. "You know, you're shitting over yourself if you think that you mean anymore to Johnny than any others of your kind do?" Omar continued to struggle as he spoke. "Do you know how many girls and boys like you that Johnny and I used to take outside and show the only thing that they were good for pure Englishmen?"
"That's not true," Omar begged. "Not true you're lying!" Genghis continued to hold onto him showing no pity as he completed his assault on the young Pakistani.
"Oh it's true, alright! You are useless," Genghis said. "You pathetic scum should fucking go back where you came from!"
Genghis stood up leaving Omar on the ground. He dressed then kicked him in the ribs as he stomped away satisfied with knowing that he destroyed the young man physically and emotionally.
Omar waited until he could hear the front door close. He sat up and hugged himself on the knees. He felt numb, like all feeling had been drained out of him. The slightly rational part of his mind ordered him to go home. He absently put back on his trousers and searched for the shoes that had fallen off during the rape. He found one by the door, but couldn't find the other. Omar shook his head deciding to leave the other shoe. He then stood on shaky legs. He slumped slowly out of the back room and locked the launderette returning home.
Omar was drenched from the rain, but paid it no mind. He walked into the flat hoping that his father was asleep. The old man was wide awake and drinking from a vodka bottle. "You are home later than usual," Papa quipped. "Any particular reason?"
"No Papa," Omar said wearily grateful that it was dark and his father couldn't see the injuries. He walked into the lavatory and turned on the sink. He glanced at his reflection. His bottom lip was red and swollen. His eye was puffy and bruised. Omar rubbed his hands in the sink then splashed them on his face. He absently glanced down as the blood trickled from his face down to the sink below running against the water.
"Good God, Omar, what happened to you?" Omar jumped at his father's voice. He was standing behind him. He put his hands on Omar's face.
"It was nothing, Papa," Omar said, his voice practically a whisper. "I just fell."
"I find that hard to believe," Ali said sarcastically. "Are you in trouble again? Why are you bleeding and why are you only wearing one shoe?" He pointed downwards at Omar's feet where one sock was completely soiled by the walk in the rain. Omar also noticed that his shirt was re-buttoned haphazardly and hung from outside his trousers and he left his jacket back at the launderette. He did look a sight. Ali continued. " Is there anything that I can do?"Ali's last sentence had a trace of longing as though he really wanted to be there, to do something for his son like he did when Omar was a boy.
Omar bit his lip and shook his head. "No, Papa, there isn't anything anyone can do. Go back to sleep." Ali looked confused, but nodded and returned to his bed. Omar returned to his bed mechanically and wrapped the sheets over him still feeling nothing. When he lay down, he put his hand to his lip. He recalled Genghis' words and the rape. Suddenly, his lip quivered and he could bury his feelings no longer as his body shook overcome with his sobbing tears.
The next day, he paid Salim for 500 quid for a month's worth of speed.
March, 1977 Lewisham- Omar pushed through the hallway past the crowded group of teenager. He held onto his books hugging his body tightly as he backed into a group of giggling schoolgirls arguing about which of the Gibb Brothers were the cutest. Andy definitely, Omar thought as he apologized for bumping into one of the girls. The school hallway was suffocating with music, loud voices, laughter, and teachers who were barely keeping the peace. Omar nodded and called his classmate, André over. The two had been assigned partners for a biology project. "You got the notes?" Omar asked.
"Yeah, if you can understand them, but I sure can't," the boy answered. Andre was a small bespectacled teenager whose family had recently emigrated to Lewisham from Haiti. He tripped over his laces as Omar helped the boy to stand. André was the type of kid who inspired mockery no matter what he did.
"At least we'll pull a passing grade, I hope," Omar said as the two walked further down the alley to their flats. The two continued walking until they moved closer to a gang. "Maybe we should go another way," André stammered.
"No," Omar said. "Just ignore them and keep going." The two 15-year-olds moved forwards feeling more tense as they approached the gang. Omar held his schoolbooks in front of him like a protective suit of armor. The taller older boys seemed to sense Andre as the weaker link as the tripped him. "Where you two going? Are you lost?" one jeered. "Maybe, you should come with us." The others laughed as though it were the funniest joke in the world.
"No," André stammered. The two older boys pushed Andre to the ground as Omar stood up. "Leave him alone," Omar commanded.
"Who's going to stop us, Paki, you?" one of the boys dared.
"Yes, I am," Omar raised a fist and was about to strike the boy in the wide girth, when another hand stopped him. Omar turned to see a familiar face. "Johnny?"he asked. He wanted to hug his old friend, but Johnny pushed him down.
Johnny didn't respond, but turned to his other mates. "Leave 'em alone," he declared. "They're not worth it." Johnny's other friends looked disappointed, but they followed him.
Omar waited until the other boys left, then helped André to stand. "Are you alright?" Omar asked.
André nodded. "Who was that?"
"Someone who I thought was my friend," Omar said sadly. "Let's go study."
Omar sat at home waiting. Things were quiet. His father would be late at another meeting of the All Lewisham Campaign Against Racism and Fascism. Things hadn't been going well for the group, and when they didn't go well, his father came home drunk and would yell at his wife and son.
"Omar," Daviya called. The teenager turned his head to face his mother. "I have a headache, so when your father comes home, please tell him that I don't want to be disturbed."
"Yes, Mama," Omar answered as she closed the door to his bedroom. Omar shook his head. She had been like that lately. She spoke less and less, particularly as his father spoke more and more. She also spent a great deal of time lying in bed, ill. Omar could never tell if her illnesses were real or imaginary and he didn't want to ask. The last time he asked his mother if something was wrong, she cried for almost a half hour. Omar sighed and tried to return to his class work. He just had a feeling that his parents' tensions were lying below the surface, just waiting to explode.
Omar tapped his fingers on his notebook as the quiet almost deafened him. He couldn't concentrate on the work. He tried to get his mind off of other things, but it kept coming back to seeing Johnny. They had remained best friends for a time, but in the past few months things had changed. Well, Omar didn't think that they changed within himself but they certainly changed within Johnny. He began to ignore him in school, and would avoid him on the streets. Sometimes when Omar called Johnny's house, his mum or dad would tell him that he wasn't there, though Omar had the feeling that his friend was in the background listening. Johnny then left school a few months ago, so Omar didn't even see him then. Omar couldn't understand why Johnny had ignored him now. Had he done something that he couldn't remember? Omar closed the book annoyed. He couldn't concentrate on his schoolwork or anything else. In fact he had the urge to leave. He looked around waiting for his mother to make a sound or the door to slam indicating his father's return. When he didn't hear anything, Omar slipped on a pair of shoes and walked outside into the late night.
Omar headed towards the sound of a club. Loud music blared from the windows and the lights almost blinded him. Curiously, Omar walked closer to the club. He followed a group of young men and women as they entered. Omar practically had to cover his ears as the sound of the Sex Pistols filled the entire hallway. His eyes widened in confusion as the dancers on the floor slammed into each other and hit one another, their knives and razor jewelry causing their arms to bleed. My God, what are they doing? Omar thought confused.
"Hey," someone poked Omar on the ribs. "Want some?" A bald albino man held up some cocaine.
Omar was about to refuse, when he saw Johnny approach him out of the corner of his eye. He grabbed Omar's hand. "What are you doing here?"
Omar pushed out of his arm. Even though Omar missed his friend, he was irritated with Johnny's accusing suspicious voice."What do you care?"
"This ain't your thing," Johnny mocked.
Omar laughed bothered by Johnny's protectiveness."And I suppose you think that my thing is waiting around for you to grace me with your presence."
"So you want some or not?" the dealer asked.
"No, he doesn't," Johnny said grabbing Omar's arm. Omar pushed him away.
"I checked the guest list of my business Johnny and you're not on it," He smartly replied and grabbed the cocaine from the dealer. It felt hot as he snorted it up his nose. When he looked up, Omar felt dazed and foggy. Nausea filled his entire insides all the way up to his throat. He wanted to run to the lav and vomit, but he didn't want to give Johnny the satisfaction of knowing that.
Instead, he headed for the floor as Johnny held him back. "I'm taking you home."
"I didn't think we were still friends enough for you to be concerned with what I do with my life," Omar reminded him.
"Listen," Johnny said. "About earlier."
Omar glanced at him as the two stood for a few minutes in silence."And?" Omar asked.
"Well aren't you going to thank me?" Johnny asked confused.
Omar laughed. "Yes, thank you for nearly letting your friends beat up my friend."
"Hey, I stopped them from hurting you!" Johnny reminded him.
"So it was perfectly alright for you to beat up someone else?" Omar dryly replied. "You're unbelievable, Johnny! You ignore me! You don't want to have anything to do with me and now all of a sudden you are concerned with what happens to me?" Johnny pulled the 15-year-old closer, but Omar purposely moved closer to the dance floor. "No, just leave me alone!"
Omar moved closer to a person with really short spiky hair. He couldn't tell under the lights if the person was a man or a woman, but he danced closer to them gyrating his body next to the other person's. His head was swimming with the drugs, but he kept his eyes on Johnny's. He had disappeared into the crowd for a minute so Omar didn't see him, but he just hoped that he was getting an eyeful of Omar dancing with someone else to let him know what he had been missing. Omar moved closer to his partner as Johnny danced closer with a tall leggy brunette woman. Well if that's what he wants, Omar thought in anger. He pushed himself up and down his partner as Johnny purposely moved the woman closer. Omar glared and didn't mind when his partner leaned his mouth closer to him. He stuck his tongue down Omar's throat and put his hand down Omar's crotch. Despite the drugged state that he was in, Omar snapped back to attention and look at his partner. "Hey, I didn't say that you can do that," he said.
"Who cares?" his partner asked as he pushed Omar closer.
"I do, get off of me," Omar struggled. "I mean it, keep away!" That was as far as the other man got when Johnny stood next to them and punched him. Omar looked at his dancing partner flattened on the ground, then looked at Johnny. In a fury, he pushed Johnny then stormed out of the club.
"Omar, wait," Johnny yelled as the two ran out in the night. He held the Pakistani teen close as he struggled.
"You can't do this," Omar gasped as Johnny held him tightly. "You can't ignore me and then do this."
"I wanted to," Johnny said. "But, I couldn't stop thinking about you. It scared me! I'm not supposed to..I mean, shit, I should be thinking about girls but all I can think about is-" He held Omar closer. "So, I kept away. You should stay away too. I ain't any good for you! The only thing you can do is stay away."
"I want to, but I can't," Omar gripped Johnny's arm and leaned closer to his friend. Johnny kissed him. "No, I don't want to be away from you." He kissed him back. Johnny's lips moved down Omar's throat as they gave in completely to each other.
"I know a place," Johnny said taking Omar's hand and leading him to an abandoned building. The two ran up the stairs giggling and fondling each other. Johnny opened the door as he and Omar fell into the room clawing each other. They tumbled into the floor onto each other's bodies, theirs arms interlocked. The two moaned softly as their bodies moved in synchronous motion. Their voices got louder as they became more aroused. The two felt nothing but passion and love.
The next morning Omar woke to a pounding headache and a nearly empty bed. Johnny was gone. Omar felt ill and depressed as he got dressed and went home.
The next time that they meant, Omar and Johnny arranged to meet in secret.