The My Beautiful Laundrette Collection

Dinner with Hussein and Omar

He looked at the scars. The scars healed but the week didn't. It was a week since it happened.

He stared at himself in the mirror, his features darkened by the dimly lit bathroom light. The bruise on his broken nose started to heal, it's original purple colour yellowed.

He had a black eye, which was green and yellow. Ganghis had cut his right cheekbone, one underneath his busted lip and one near his nostril; with his rings. They were shallow, scabs.

He pushed up his grey sweatshirt's right sleeve to look at the deepest cut. It didn't need stitches but the cut turned out to be deep. It healed but it was shiny, telling him that it would be a scar.

He heard the door knock. Three small raps.. then: "Are you ready?" Omar asked carefully, his voice muffled by the door. Johnny turned away from the mirror for a second.

"Gimme a minute! I'll be out!" He replied before turning back to the mirror. He reached out, with both hands, he turned on the water.
He cupped his hands--calloused and splintered--before collecting water.

He craned his neck over the sink and pushed his cupped hands to his face. His eyes blinked quickly at the cool water striking his face.
He grabbed a towel and dabbed the water away.

He unlocked the door before stepping out into the Laundrette's back room. Omar was sitting in the old chair, focused on a magazine.
He looked up, concentration breaking. "Oh, ready to go?"

Johnny couldn't force himself to smile. He could've but he couldn't, he never wanted to lie to Omar.
Omar noticed his lack of expression and reached out. His warm hand gripping his shoulder and squeezing it.

The gesture didn't help Johnny. He stared out the one way mirror, into the laundrette. It was closed but wouldn't the broken glass be obvious?

"Cheer up, Johnny." Omar encouraged, his tone missing enthusiasm.
"I'm tryin'." Johnny shot a glare at him and Omar shrunk back slightly. He didn't add anything, he turned and grabbed his coat.

The long trench coat that Johnny hated. It reminded him too much of Salim. He felt bitterness but shook it off. Omar ignored Johnny's grumpiness and reached out again, running a hand through his thick hair.

Johnny wouldn't admit it but he loved how fearless Omar was. He loved that Omar was ready to love him despite the circumstances.

He turned away and turned off the light before walking through the laundrette. "Omo.." Johnny broke the silence when they stepped outside. Omar unlocked the car doors and started the car.

Omar suddenly seemed eager to speak with him. "Yeah?"
Johnny sat down in the passenger seat. He glanced at him. "I don't think we should do this." He practically whispered.

Omar's smile faltered to a frown. "Huh? Papa's gonna like you." He reassured, forcing a smile but it seemed overly fake.
"No, what about all them things I did to you?" He asked, guilt boiling in his stomach.

Omar laughed softly but thought about all their fallouts during grade school and how he saw Johnny at the Lewisham march. He frowned, sighing softly.

He pressed his foot on the accelerator and the car urged on. The wind crawled across their skin. Johnny broke out into goosebumps.

"You didn't answer me." He reminded. Omar shook his head, lips shivering in a mouthless 'christ'.
"Johnny.. I.. I don't know.." He whispered, his warm brown eyes almost seemed to turn dark.

Johnny sighed and dropped his head in his hands. The wind pushed through his thick hair.
"Let's talk about something else." Omar right hand reached past the gear shift and stroked his hair.
Johnny broke into a weak smile, unable to hate Omar when he held him.