Chapter Six: Clock of the Heart

Nassar took Bilque's hand as the two sped through the busy waiting room, their daughters close behind. Nassar almost had to laugh at the irony that it took the critical injury of their missing daughter to make them hold hands as though they were young lovers. They approached the emergency room that the receptionist said Tania was in. Nassar ran up to the doctor. Her name tag read "Dr. Singh." "Excuse me, my daughter Tania Hussein, how is she?" he asked.

Dr. Singh waved her hands to calm the older man down. "Mr. Hussein, your daughter is in critical, but stable condition," she replied. "She sustained a concussion."" Bilques began to cry as Nassar held her feeling choked up as well. "However, her chance of survival is great, actually greater than it would have been if she hadn't had help beforehand."

"What do you mean?" Nassar asked.

"Well your friend sustained mouth to mouth resuscitation on her," Dr. Singh replied. "It's possible that without it, we would never have gotten to her in time."

"My friend?" Nassar questioned.

"Yes Miss Field," the doctor pointed behind them at the brunette woman who kept her distance from the family. "She told us that she was a friend of the family."

Nassar and Bilques turned around to face the woman. "Rachel, you?" he asked as he came closer. Dr. Singh returned to treating the young woman in her care.

Rachel nodded fighting tears. "Yes, well I was at the launderette when it blew and I just knew that I couldn't-well I almost destroyed your family so it seemed only right that I bring part of it back."

"Thank you," Nassar said. He thought for a minute there. "Why did you want to see me and what did it have to do with Salim?"

Bilques looked up. "Is it involved with Salim's arrest?"

Nassar looked quizzically at his wife. "Salim was arrested? When?"

"This afternoon," his wife replied. "At their house right after their son was born."

Rachel nodded. "By my brother, Toby. He's a detective sergeant in Drug Enforcement. I think that he was having an affair with Cherry. That's what I came to tell you. I thought maybe he was going to do something to you through Salim." She mumbled the last part. "Out o f loyalty to me."

Bilques shook her head. "No, Cherry told me. She made a deal with the police for immunity and a lighter sentence so she gave them information about Salim's drug career."

Nassar nodded. "That explains his behavior earlier. He probably thought it was me or Omar."

"And he arrested him," Rachel said. Bilques nodded. "That's Toby Field for you, efficient at his job and to hell with anyone else." As if conjuring up his image she saw an emergency crew carry a man on a gurney down the hallway. "Toby!" she yelled. She turned from the couple. "He's my brother and I have to go!"

"Salim shot him," Bilques explained to her husband. She held up a finger as if to say 'wait a minute' then followed Rachel. "Rachel," she called. The Englishwoman turned around to face her former lover's wife. "For my daughter's sake, thank you."

Rachel smiled. "You're welcome." She then followed the emergency crew to find out about her brother's status.

Lucy, the receptionist, glanced up as two men and a small girl approached the front desk. For an insane moment, she thought that they were a couple with their daughter. They were out of breath and obviously worried. "I'm looking for Tania Hussein," the dark haired man said at the same time as the blond man said. "Do you have an Omar Hussein here?"

Lucy held up her hand. "Wait a minute, one at a time!" Both men gave the names of the patients once again. She consulted her records. "Tania Hussein is upstairs room 216 with many of them from that explosion." She smiled at the publicity that had been gathering. "It's already getting a lot of press. The reporters are even calling it 'The Second Battle of Lewisham.'"

"Imagine that," the blond man said sarcastically. The dark haired man and little girl were about to head for the elevator with the blond man following them, when Lucy called them back. "I don't have a listing for an Omar Hussein, though."

The two men exchanged glances. "Don't mean that he ain't there," the blond man said with desperation.

Johnny, Max, and Frida rode the elevator, worried and tense about their loved ones. Frida was sniffling while Max whispered to his daughter telling her not to worry and that Tania will be alright. "Looks like we're looking for the same people," Johnny said.

Max nodded and stuck out his hand. "Max. This is my daughter, Frida."

"Johnny," Johnny replied as he shook Max's hand and waved at Frida. "So you're Tania's man yeah?" He recognized him from when Tania met him in the alley. He was the tall dark haired man behind her. Max nodded as he lifted his daughter up and carried her patting her on the back.

"I love her," Max replied. "And you? Are you a friend of Omar's?"

"More than that," Johnny said.

"Are you in love with Uncle Omar?" Frida asked sniffling through her tears as her father comforted her.

Johnny was surprised at the girl's honesty but he nodded. "Yeah, I'm in love with your Uncle Omar."

The elevator opened and the two ran to the waiting room with Max holding Frida.

Max and Johnny ran past a familiar launderette customer who though he had a bandage on his forehead approached the pretty blond woman who shook her head at him, her hands on her hips. "Do you believe me now, Angela?" Gerard asked weakly.

Angela approached her boyfriend with tears in her eyes. "Shut it, you," she said as she embraced and kissed her boyfriend. "Just shut it!"

The two young men and small girl approached Tania's ran up to Nassar and Bilques and asked. "How is Tania?"

Nassar glanced at Max up and down. "And who might you be and why are you concerned with my daughter?"

Max put Frida down and smiled nervously managing to let out a small laugh. "I would have preferred a better setting, but my name is Max Ruben and, I'm in love with your daughter."

Nassar's face reddened and he stood up slowly as though Max were some unidentified insect that he wanted to squash." You are in love with my daughter."

Max nodded and stammered. "Yes, sir, I have known Tania nearly a year in Paris. "

"In Paris," Nassar repeated. "That's where she's been."

Max blushed and stammered. "Yes sir. I'm an artist and well Tania is a wonderful woman and though we haven't made any definite plans, I sort of hope to marry her one day."

"You hope to marry my daughter," Nassar said icily.

"One day," Max said. If I live through tonight, he thought. He caught his breath. "Sir, I find Tania to be a smart, courageous, strong beautiful woman. My daughter-this is my daughter, Frida- adores her as do I. I do not wish for her to be anymore than she is now, but we are in love. She has a wonderful career working for a dear friend of mine. I see so much in her and more. I just hope that you do as well."

Nassar didn't say anything but Dr. Singh arrived. "Your daughter is awake now. She sustained multiple fractures to her nervous system and there is a chance that she will be paralyzed from the waist down for life." There was silence from the entire family.

"May we see her?" Nassar asked.

The doctor nodded. "Yes, but she is tired and will need rest so don't stay too long."

Nassar took his wife by the hand and pointed at his daughters. "Come on," he said. He then turned to Max and Frida. "Would you like to come see her?"

Max smiled with tears forming in his eyes. "Thank you, sir." He shook Nassar's hand as he entered the room with Frida following close behind. Nassar lingered by the door for a minute.

Johnny smiled and called for Max. "Good luck, man," he said. Max smiled and returned to his girlfriend's room. Before then, the Englishman had been scanning the waiting room hoping for any sign that maybe beyond all hope that Omar was there. He approached Gigi and Del who were talking to their families. "You two you're Omar's employees yeah?" he asked. They nodded. "How are you?"

"Other than the fact that I have an entire kettle drum orchestra in my head, I'll be fine," Del said.

"Little ringing in my ears," Gigi replied. "But the doctor said that I'll be right soon enough. Tania's alright, isn't she?"

Johnny nodded. "Yeah they were saying that she's paralyzed but at least she's alive." The younger kids nodded. "Either of you seen Omar?"

Gigi and Del glanced at each other and shook their heads. "No, he weren't with us." Gigi replied. Del confirmed it.

"Johnny," Nassar said slowly. Johnny turned around to see the older man approach him. "Omar arrived with Zaki, my brother, and I. He wasn't at the launderette but we haven't seen him since."

Johnny gasped. Since the explosion, he realized how much that he loved that infuriating ambitious Pakistani. Up until this moment, he would have admitted that he liked him, maybe even loved him. Knowing that Omar hadn't died but was missing made Johnny realize that Omar meant more to him than anyone else in the world. He also was aware that what had really been holding back between himself and Omar wasn't Omar's family, wasn't Johnny's old gang, wasn't racism, or homophobia. It was their own stubborn pride! If Omar slipped out of Johnny's life now, he would always know that it was his own fault! More than anything Johnny knew that he had to find Omar and confess everything to him!

"I just hope to God that he's at home," Johnny said. "Glad about Tania though." He then turned around and left the waiting room.

The front door to Omar's flat was locked. It wasn't the hardest obstacle for someone like Johnny who had spent much of his youth picking various locks for stealing and unscrewing. He motioned his hand at the top of the door for the spare key. When he found it, he unlocked the door. He sighed with delight as the door opened. "That was easy," he thought as he entered. His slight victory ended with a bottle of vodka thrown at his direction. Johnny ducked as the bottle smashed onto the wall behind him.

Ali approached the young man hitting at him in a rage. "You bastard where is my son?" he screamed. "Where is he?"

Johnny held onto the older man's arms to steady them and then dropped them. "I don't know," he said. "I came back here to find him! He wasn't at the hospital!"

"I've been seeing the news," Ali said. His whole body was shaking and his voice barely controlling any of his emotions. "He just can't be-Johnny, if he's-if something happened to him-"

Johnny held his lover's father by the shoulder. "He ain't hurt, I'm sure of it! I saw his car outside. I'm going to go look for him. Is it working?"

Ali nodded. "As far as I know, the mechanics returned it this morning before Omar left but-"Johnny looked through an ashtray that had a set of keys. "Johnny, those are my flat keys." Johnny shook his head and glanced inside drawer after drawer looking for Omar's car keys. He couldn't find them.

"Doesn't he keep car keys near the door like a bloody normal person?" Johnny swore tearing through the chest of drawers and near the television.

"No, he doesn't," Ali said embarrassed. "Johnny, he-I don't know where his car keys are." Johnny glanced at the older man who looked like he was confessing to a shameful secret. "Omar won't tell me where he puts his car keys. He hides them from me. He's afraid that I will drive off and get arrested or get hurt-so he hides them to keep me from driving."

Johnny buried his head in his hands frustrated. "Brilliant," he said. "Any idea where he might have them?"

Ali shook his head. "I don't know. He just says that it would be somewhere that I won't look, somewhere that I won't want to look."

"Well that cleared up nothing," Johnny muttered. He glanced over at Ali's liquor cabinet. No, that would be the first place he'll look, Johnny thought. If they were in Omar's trouser pockets or in his wallet then Johnny would be sunk. However, they may still be here. He glanced over at the book case. He read off the titles: several copies of the Qur'an, The Communist Manifesto, The Commonwealth of Nations, biographies of the Bhutto family and Gandhi, some books by Oscar Wilde and Erotic Short Stories by Gay Authors (Johnny figured that they were Omar's), among others. He flipped through the gay author's anthology and some of the Oscar Wilde books but found nothing. He fingered the other titles until a small older paperback got his attention, the type that someone would find in a rummage shop. "Somewhere that you wouldn't want to look," Johnny mumbled as he read the title: My Name is Bill W. Cute Omar, he thought, very clever. He opened the front cover and his thought was justified because taped to the inside cover were a pair of keys. He pulled them out and returned the book to the shelf. "Found them," Johnny said and pocketed the keys. "Now, I'm off."

"Johnny, Omar is my son," Ali began.

Johnny sighed frustrated. "I don't want to hear this! I know you don't like me, but I'm mad about your son and I intend to go looking for him and if you don't like it, well that's just tough ain't it?"

"No, that's not what I was going to say," Ali said. "Omar is my son and I am coming with you."

Omar used his strength to open the rusted gate of the Muslim cemetery, which admittedly wasn't a lot of strength. He heaved and pushed it open and was completely out of breath by the time that he opened the grave. "Excuse me," a brusque voice said. Omar looked to see a gray bearded caretaker dressed in traditional wardrobe. "We are closing in 15 minutes."

Omar sighed. His feet felt like blocks. It was the first time in several hours that he admitted any feeling into his body. The long walk was exhausting, but he used it to try to block his mind from everything. However, the more he tried the more the unpleasant thoughts entered. "Please," he said wearily. "I have been walking a long way. I just want to visit my mother for a few minutes."

Hassan, the caretaker sighed and allowed Omar to enter. He was normally a stickler for regulations but the young man was clearly fatigued. He looked like he would fall over any minute. Hassan waved his hand for him to enter. The young man stepped over the graves that were all similar in appearance, all small and barely marked and facing towards Mecca. She never got to see Mecca, Omar thought, she always wanted to. He walked past the graves taking care not to step on them or walk on top of them. He moved towards the sites until he found the one that memory told him that his mother lain.

Omar sat next to his mother's grave. He sunk down as his knees buckled from the exhaustion of the long walk and the tension that had built. He bowed to the grave and then lay prostrate on the ground. Tears flowed from his eyes and down onto the cold marker. Omar thought of the beautiful woman that was once his mother, who held his hand when he stumbled, kissed him good night, gave him a gentle reprimand, and in her own way showed love and encouragement to her son. He kissed the grave. He wanted to say any of the traditional prayers but his mind couldn't recall any. Instead he could only tell his mother what he felt.

"I'm sorry, Mama," he cried. "I tried, I really did. Please forgive me for what I must do. But, I will see you soon." He kissed her once more. "Good-bye."

Johnny pounded on the door to Nassar's house and rang the door bell. He wasn't sure that anyone would be home but figured that it would be worth a shot. Bilques answered the door to a very relieved Johnny. "Johnny," she said. "Ali?" she said with surprise as though her brother-in-law were a dragon or some other mythological creature that no one had ever seen before. It had probably been awhile since she had seen her brother-in-law or at least seen him dressed in anything other than his pajamas, Johnny reasoned.

"How is Tania?" Ali asked. Johnny gave him some information but he preferred to be polite.

Bilques smiled. "As well as can be expected. Nassar and that Max are with her now. Zaki brought me, the girls, and Frida home to give them some time together." She waved at the inside room where Raina and Dasha were playing a game with Frida. "Would you like to come in?"

They glanced at each other and shook their heads. "No, thank you mum," Johnny replied. "I guess Omar hadn't been by has he?"

Bilques shook her head and reached for an object that was behind the door. "No, he did not, but Johnny this is for you." She handed him a manila envelope. "It was hand delivered to this address."

Johnny opened the envelope and read in surprise. "What is it Johnny?" Ali asked after Johnny read for a few minutes.

The young man glanced at the older man. He wanted to spare him pain, but he knew that if he was coming then he had to know. "It's the deed to the launderette. Omar signed it over to me." Ali shook uncontrollably as Johnny led him to the car and thanked Bilques. They slammed the car door as Johnny revved the engine. What he didn't want to tell Ali was about the small letter that came with the deed. It was written in Omar' hand:

Johnny,

I'm taking the hint. Please take care of my father. You will do a better job than I ever could. I'm sorry, but I have to speak to someone that I haven't seen in awhile and then I will be gone. I'm sorry. I know this is the coward and the failure's way out. I suppose it runs in the family. I guess it's a pity that we ever met in the first place. I wish things could be different.

Love,

Omar

Johnny thought for a moment. Who was Omar going to speak with? Then, a thought struck him. "Sir, where is your wife buried?"

"A Muslim cemetery," Ali replied. "It's on the other side of town. Why?"

"I think that's where Omar is," Johnny answered as he started the car.

Johnny drove the car to the Muslim cemetery concentrating on the road and his lover. He didn't want to speak as though it would take up too much energy, energy that he needed to find Omar. Ali had his eyes closed as and his hands folded. Occasionally, he motioned his hands skyward and muttered a prayer. Johnny couldn't understand what the words meant but figured that they meant something to the effect of: Please let us find my son. Let him be alive. Yeah, that goes double from me, Johnny thought. Ali opened his eyes and pointed. "It's over there." Johnny pulled over and the two exited the vehicle.

Johnny tried to open the gate but it was locked. Frustrated, he pounded on the gate as it jangled. Ali held onto his shoulder. "Johnny," he hissed. A shadow approached the two men.

"We're closed," Hassan replied. He gave the two men a withering look especially Johnny.

Johnny tensed. He recognized the look, the look that said you don't belong here. Ali stayed Johnny's hand. This was his world and he knew how to enter doors that Johnny did not. "Excuse me, but we are looking for a young man in his early 20's," Ali asked. "We think he came by here."

Hassan glanced back and forth at the intruders no friendlier to his fellow follower of Allah than an outsider."If he's buried here, then you missed your chance," Hassan wryly replied. "If he's alive, what makes you think that he came by here?"

"The young man is my son," Ali replied. "My wife is buried here. Her name is Daviya Hussein. Please, I need to know whether he came by."

Hassan sighed. "We only had one visitor here tonight. 15 minutes before we closed."

Johnny approached to the man. "Did he do anything? Say anything?"

Hassan glared. "It is not my place to eavesdrop on the private conversations between the living and the dead!"

Johnny clenched his fist ready to punch the man. He wanted to knock his block off, but he knew that wouldn't help Omar. He reached into his pocket and took out the 60.00 that he raised from selling the watch. Hassan picked it up and pocketed the money. There went my going-away fund, Johnny thought dryly, realizing how little that mattered now. "Yes, he bowed to the grave and assumed the traditional mourning position, as dictated by Mohammad," Hassan replied.

"Huh?" Johnny was confused.

"Prostrate face down on the ground," Ali answered. "Younger people do it to show respect to deceased older family members."

Hassan nodded. "He didn't say much. He just said 'I'm sorry, I tried. Forgive me, but I shall see you soon.'"

Ali swooned. In those few seconds, he completely paled and felt weightless. "Johnny," he said weakly.

Johnny upheld his friend's father. "Come now, Ali. We'll find him, I promise you. Then, I'll give him the beating of his life for scaring you like this!"

Omar approached the train stop and sank down onto the bench and waited. There wasn't much else that he could do. This is how it looked to her, he thought. It doesn't look as different as I had always imagined that it would. Omar removed the pill bottle from his pocket. How many had he already taken two, three? How many would it take? When would the train get here? What would it feel like?

He almost laughed at the absurdity of it all. People often fight death and now here he was welcoming it. Ironically, it was the calmest that he felt in a long time. Omar sat on the bench as early morning light approached and patiently waited certain that soon all his troubles would be over.

Since the return from the cemetery, neither Ali nor Johnny spoke for a long time. What neither wanted to give voice to was the fear that Omar was contemplating suicide. They or at least Johnny clung to the faint desperate hope that maybe Omar was just running away. That hope ended as soon as they left the cemetery.

Johnny glanced towards the old man as he stopped at a red light. He looked ill, pale, and his hands were shaking. "Need a drink, sir?" he asked.

Ali sighed. "I want one, dear God, how I want one," he said. "But it won't help my son, not now." Johnny nodded as the light turned green.

"Johnny," Ali said weakly. "Can you forgive an old fool?"

Johnny smiled. "You're not old, Mr. Ali."

Ali laughed bitterly. "But I am a fool," he said. Johnny smiled ironically. Ali continued. "You see it did not bother me that Omar is a homosexual, well perhaps it did. But, what bothered me was that he was with you," he confessed. "You see I had forgotten your years of friendship, forgotten how loyal you were to each other when you were little. All I saw was that Fascist who marched against our people. It hurt me and I didn't want to see Omar get hurt by you." Johnny was about to say more but Ali held up his hand. "Let me finish. That changed tonight, actually changed in small ways for a long time, but I finally saw the truth tonight. You are fond of my boy and anyone who would do for him as much as you have deserves my apology. When I am wrong, I admit that I am wrong and I can only hope that you can forgive me?"

Johnny shook his head. "I'm just sorry that I ever gave you a reason not to like me, sir."

Ali took a deep breath and continued. "I want you to know, that despite your races, or society's perception on the matter ff you do find my son and wish to pursue your relationship further. Then, you have my blessing."

Johnny slowed the car down and glanced at the older man. "Sir, when we find Omar and if he is interested, then I will be honored to have it." He glanced at the landscape near the train stop. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a lone figure seated. Wait a mo, he thought, could it be? He turned the car around and approached the train stop.

He pulled the car over and leaped out of the front. "Why are we stopping here?" Ali asked.

"Stay here, sir," Johnny said to his friend's father. Ali was about to leave when Johnny lowered him back down. "Stay here," he said firmly.

He climbed the steps to the train stop and saw the same lone figure seated on the bench. Johnny approached him warily as though he were a frightened deer that would run off in the presence of a hunter. Omar glanced upward at the intrusion. At least Johnny thought it was Omar. He looked so different from the last time that Johnny saw him. He was dressed in old dark clothing, so different from the pressed and fastidious wardrobe that his lover was so fond of wearing. His dark face so often hopeful and healthy now was jaundiced in its skinniness; it seemed to implode with all of the worries. The most frightening thing for Johnny was Omar's eyes, so bright and full of life were now dull with a resignation that not only accepted but welcomed death. It was as though in the almost 24 hours since Johnny had seen him, the Omar that he knew and loved was replaced by a stranger.

Omar didn't look surprised to see him. "I see you got my note," he said.

It shocked Johnny to see how polite Omar was acting as though it were a typical day at work. He reached over and grabbed Omar by the arm. The Pakistani resisted and pushed away. "We have been looking all night for you," he said. "Your father and I have been worried sick!"

"You shouldn't have bothered," Omar replied. He laughed bitterly, his voice slurred. "Y'know it's funny. I can't even do this right. I swallowed enough of these but apparently not enough to finish the job," He held up the pill bottle and Johnny could see that it was half-empty. "I'm waiting for a train that it turns out was late. Hers was right on time."

"Come on," Johnny said. "I'm taking you home!" He tried to drag him, but once again Omar resisted.

"No," Omar said. "Back to what? A business that has fallen apart? A family that hates me? How about a world that falls apart every time we try to do anything? What about to someone that I'm not allowed to be with?"

"Look," Johnny said. "The launderette can be repaired. The people who have been injured will heal. Genghis has been arrested! Your family doesn't hate you, in fact, they are worried about you and so am I! There ain't anything that can't be fixed!"

Omar sighed wearily. "That's just it, Johnny. I'm tired of fixing it. I'm tired of fixing what's broken only to have it fall apart in greater pieces. I'm tired of always trying, but things never really changing. I'm tired of somehow thinking that I'm so much better than everyone that I'm somebody special. I'm just tired of it all." Suddenly, a sound could be heard: the last sound that Johnny wanted to hear. The honk of the train and the roar of its wheels from a distance. Omar smiled. "Finally," he stood up and left the bench. Johnny followed close behind. Omar spoke in a tone that frightened Johnny at how eerie it was. "You know, I used to wonder what it looked like to her. Did I cross her mind before she did it? Did she ever think of me at all? Did I say something to her to make her not want to walk away from this? Then, I realized that even if she did love me I wasn't enough. I wasn't enough for her." The train approached closer as Omar headed closer to the edge. "I wasn't enough to make her walk away. I wasn't enough to make him quit drinking. I'm not enough to hold anything together. I'm not enough to make you stay. I'm not enough for anything."

Johnny held onto his lover as the train approached closer. Johnny's voice choked with emotion. "Come on, Omar. You can walk away, you're strong enough. You can't do this. I-I love you."

Omar barely acknowledged Johnny's love confession as the train could be seen right on the horizon and headed straight for them. "I know," Omar sighed. "But not enough." He stepped one foot off the edge just as Johnny reached for him. The train careened by and Johnny grabbed Omar and tackled him to the ground.

Omar struggled but Johnny forced him down keeping his body on top of him so that he didn't move. "Now look!" He yelled. "You are strong enough to walk away! You are and you are going to! And when you're not, I'm going to carry you away! But, I am not going to lose you! Do you hear me?"

Omar sobbed in Johnny's arms. "Stay with me, Johnny," he begged. "Don't leave me."

Johnny held his lover tightly. "I wasn't planning on going nowhere, man. I'm staying right here."

"I love you too," Omar said his face buried in his lover's arms and his voice muffled from exhaustion and Johnny's protective body. "I need you."

"We need each other, Omar," Johnny replied. He then lifted Omar's chin and the two kissed a warm loving kiss that healed all wounds.

The two sat for a few minutes locked in their embrace. "Are you ready now?" Johnny asked.

Omar nodded. "Yes, I want to go home. I don't want to kill myself anymore." Johnny helped Omar to stand as a relieved voice said, "Thank God."

Omar looked up and saw his father leaning against the railing. If Omar had any lingering suicidal thoughts, they were gone the second that he saw his shattered father and realized that he would have seen it happen. His wife's death almost destroyed him. Omar's death would have sent him to a place that he would never recover from. "Papa?" Omar said warily approaching his father.

"Omar," Ali said grabbing his son by the shoulders. He shook his son hard. "Omar, if you ever do that to me again, I will disown you! Do you hear me I will-I-"He couldn't finish his threat his voice was so choked with tears. He embraced his son holding him tightly.

"I'm sorry, Papa," Omar said sounding younger than he was. "I'm so sorry!"

Ali held onto his son and kissed his forehead. "Now, now," he said. "Everything will be fine. Things will be different from now on." Omar nodded as his father lifted his face and wiped his tears with his thumbs. "We'd better get you looked after then get you home, because the three of us need to have a talk."

Omar glanced confused between his father and his boyfriend. "The three-?"

Ali nodded. "Yes, of course, you, me-"He grinned at Johnny "-and my son-in-law."

Omar smiled crying this time happy tears. He approached Johnny. "Yeah?" Johnny asked. He didn't have to say more.

"Yeah," Omar agreed and leapt into Johnny's arms giving him a long kiss on the mouth. Then taking his father's hand and leaning against Johnny's shoulder for support, Omar joined his father and lover in climbing down the stairs and heading for home.