Coming Home (English Version)

41. Son

Hamdan

"How bad is it?" I ask Mansoor.

"Pretty bad," he replies in an unusually serious tone. "I mean, you know how doctors are; they say they don't want to get ahead of themselves, that it all depends on how well he responds to the treatment."

I stretch my legs and lean back on the corner of the couch, Mansoor sits on the chair across from me and my sight goes up to the ceiling with a loud exhale. In the weeks since we have been back in Dubai and in our new home, I have been working non stop and this is the first time I'm actually using the office at the house. It looks like I'm not creating the best of memories here.

"And that's another thing," Mansoor carries on. "Chemotherapy would make very apparent that he is sick, people definitely can't see him like that, even if he had the energy to work or make an appearance, which I highly doubt."

Our father is seriously ill, I had to cover for him today and that's why I couldn't make it to the appointment he had with his team of doctors. You will be the emir one day, is probably the phrase I've been told the most in my life. What people don't realise is that it implies my father's passing, and this is the very first time we are faced with a very real possibility of that happening. Anyone can die at any moment, that's how fragile life is, but when I hear about a cancer diagnosis at the age my father has, I can't avoid thinking about the chances of losing him in the short term.

He is not easy at times, he's definitely not perfect, but he is my father and has taught me more than anyone else in the world. Up until recently he has appeared as such a strong figure, always so full of energy that it made me feel safe, like I still had a lot of time to keep learning, a lot of time before I became the emir, but I suppose we all make the same mistake; to think that we still have time.

"We need to step up to the plate, brother," Mansoor adds. "All of us, but especially you. While he takes care of his health, there will be a huge gap to fill."

"How is he?" I ask.

Mansoor shrugs. "Playing it cool, you know how he is. He smiles and says everything will be fine, but deep down I think he's scared too, I mean, he has to, right?"

There's a knock on the door.

"Hamdan?" Layla's voice calls my name.

"Come in," I reply.

She steps inside wearing a casual long red dress, her eyes widen when she sees Mansoor.

"What are you doing here?" She asks Mansoor while walking towards him.

Mansoor stands up. "It's good to see you too," he jokes.

She chuckles while exchanging a hug with him. "I didn't mean it like that! I was surprised to see you, that's it. What are you guys up to?"

Mansoor throws a quick knowing glance at me and sits back down to start talking to Layla's belly. "Hey, big guy! Your favorite uncle Mansoor here. How cool is it that we're gonna have the same name, huh?"

"We're not naming him Mansoor," Layla corrects him.

My little brother is putting on a good show in front of Layla because I haven't talked to her about anything yet and he knows it.

"What?" Mansoor turns to talk to me. "I thought we had already settled it!"

I scoff with a smile. "We never talked about naming my son after you."

He gasps. "You guys are so mean! Why not name him after me? Who else is going to be his favorite uncle? Mister all business uncle Maktoum? Or mister I barely speak uncle Ahmed? I've got no competition!"