Open Sesame

By: Hank Horne
(© 2018 by the author)

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

HHorne@tickiestories.us

Chapter 18

The next morning at breakfast, Dildar mentioned that it would soon be time to decide to stay or go home.  If they were going home, they would like to see some of the United States before they left.  If they were going to stay, they would need to process the papers with the State Department.

“What do you two want to do?”

“We’ve been talking about that,” Hassan replied.  “A part of us wants to go home.”

“We miss our families,” Dildar interjected.

“Another part of us wants to stay and get more involved in the project.”

“So, we’re in a dilemma.  What would be best for the two of us?”

“Well, I for one would like for you to stay and work with us.  Dildar, with your experience in security from working as a roving guard at home, you would be perfect to head up our security forces at the Crystal Rainbow.  Hassan, your experience with hotel services makes you ideal to run the resort.  We really could use your experience and expertise in the project as a whole.  However, if you are sufficiently homesick, we’ll understand your feelings and miss you two tremendously,” I sympathized with them.

“I know how you feel, guys,” Majid said.  “I do miss my family, but I have found a life with Grant, and that is the most important thing in the world to me.  Here in America, I have freedoms that are not possible at home.  I’m not looking over my shoulder for someone trying to get something on me that violates the Quran.  Or the Iman’s and Ayatollahs’ interpretation of it, and therefore the law of the country.  If you decide to stay here, you will have the freedom to be with each other, openly.  You will have us to rely on when you need someone who will not condemn everything you do.  You will have all your needs taken care of, and people who love you.”

“Maji’s exactly right about all of that, and in addition, you will be more wealthy than possible in Iraq,” I interjected.  “Think about it for several days, and then you can make a decision when we’re back from ‘Six Flags Over Georgia.’”

That got the two young guys excited.  “Is that where we’re going?”

“We leave tomorrow.  I’ll reserve a car and driver to take us around the area and a hotel for us to stay at.  You’ll just need to pack a case each of casual clothes and whatever you need for a week.  We’re going on a typical American vacation,” I told them.

They started jabbering between themselves in Kurdish so fast I couldn’t keep up with them.  I looked at Maji and he just smiled.  “You may have just captured two new Americans,” he said.  I smiled at that also.

* * * * *

Over the next three weeks, the four of us did a southern tour of Six Flags Over Georgia, Bush Gardens Tampa, and Disney World.  On the way home, we did a repeat visit to the Tampa-St. Pete area, staying at The Flamingo for a few nights.  This time, the four of us got really cozy and shared one room with two queen beds, not caring while we were being intimate with our partner but having a quasi-orgy every night.  We considered inviting some others to join us, but none was ready to go that far. 

Back at home, Hassan and Dildar let Maji and me know they wanted to stay in the United States and become citizens.  They were ready to sign the paperwork for permanent residency.  I called Howie, as a representative of his dad’s office, and Rashad Khoury, the Assistant Secretary for Mid-East Affairs, to arrange a joint meeting to process the three requests, since Maji was already determined to complete the citizenship process.

The morning of the meeting, we all dressed for the occasion in our Brooks Brothers business suits and headed downtown for our appointment.  Howie met us at the reception desk and we went up to Assistant Secretary Khoury’s office.  All the questions were answered to the State Department’s satisfaction, including the part Senator Staunton was playing in the affair.  When we were finished signing all the papers and ready to leave, Assistant Secretary Khoury asked us if we could have lunch with him in the State Department’s café downstairs.  Howie answered that he was planning to take us to lunch over at the Senate but would be very happy to have a celebratory lunch there.  The Secretary of State’s Administrative Assistant reserved a table for six and we went down together for lunch.  Not every new applicant for citizenship gets this kind of treatment, but these circumstances are a bit more special.  The café is much like every other cafeteria in D.C. government buildings, but this building is special in and of itself.

After lunch, while we were waiting for our cars to be brought to us, I asked Howie how the wedding plans were progressing.

“What wedding?” he asked, disgusted.

“Uh — your wedding?” I replied.  “It’s still in the works, isn’t it?”

“Very good question.  Maybe — maybe not.  I’m not sure,” he answered.

“Do we need to have a long talk – soon?” I asked.

“Perhaps.  Let’s do something together this weekend.  Just you and me.  Maybe a beer together somewhere,” he said with a feeling of frustration.  “I’ll tell you all about everything then.  Here are the cars.”

“Call or text me when and where.”  I hugged him, then tipped the valet and we headed our separate ways.  I’d just have to wait to learn what’s going on between Howie and Krissy.

That night, Jamal got my attention, asking for some private time.  The only private time I’ve ever known was when I was sitting on the “throne.”  So, I went into the “throne room” for our private conversation. 

Jamal had a couple of things on his mind.  One had to do with helping Dildar and Hassan learn the citizenship information easier and faster.  Arman would be helping Majid learn it, and Jamal would like to help the other guys too.  I complimented him for suggesting it and would be glad for him to help the guys with their studies, without their realizing it.

The other thing was regarding Howie’s relationship with his wife-to-be and her refusing to have Majid at their rehearsal dinner as my “Plus-one.”  Nor would she allow any of the “Arabs” to visit Howie in her home.  She knows we are a couple and doesn’t like having any “goddam faggots” in her wedding and her home.  Jamal said that Howie and Krissy have had several arguments about this, and Howie is considering calling off the marriage.

The next morning, Howie called to ask me to have lunch with him on Saturday.  He suggested Flanigan’s in Bethesda, one of our favorite pubs.  We set 11:30 to meet. 

I actually found a parking place a block away, so I was only a couple of minutes late.  This early in the day, there were already several people in there.  Howie had reserved the private room, so we could talk without having to holler at each other.  It had been a long time since the two of us had had a meal alone, and it felt good.  When our lamb stews arrived, and we were alone, I put the question to him.

“What’s going on, Howie?  I know you didn’t get this room just to see me alone.”

“It’s Krissy.  She’s getting so demanding, whiny and insisting on having her way without any consideration for what I might want.  She’s acting like I’m her daddy and she can wheedle anything she wants from me too,” he said.

“She’s starting that crap a bit early.  Usually that doesn’t come until after the wedding and the little bride has the big, tough groom locked into a contract.  Is that where she’s made her mistake?” I asked.

“That pretty well sums it up.  She’s always whined into getting her way, but I thought that was the college sorority, spoiled co-ed.  I figured she might get over it once she was out of school.”

“But she hasn’t,” I added.

“She’s gotten worse, if anything.  Now she’s making demands of friends of mine she doesn’t want at the wedding.”

“Like me, huh?”

“As a matter of fact, yes.  She’s adamant about Majid and the other two guys.  Especially Majid at the rehearsal dinner as your ‘Plus-one.’”

“And she probably doesn’t want a goddamned faggot in her wedding,” I added.

There was a shocked look on Howie’s face.  “Her exact words.  How did you know?”

“Remember, I got a chance to meet her at the party before Christmas.  She figured out that Maji and I are a couple, and I would be bringing him as my ‘significant other.’ So, in her sight we’re queers, faggots, cocksuckers, plus all the other names anyone has ever thought up about people who are different from her concept of the norm,” I replied.

“My god, you’ve got her pegged exactly.”

“So, what do you want, Howie?  I’ll back you any way you say, bro.  If you would prefer that I step aside and not participate in the wedding, you can always ask your dad to stand up with you and I can sit with Aunt Millie.  The only thing I will not agree to is staying away from your wedding.  I love you too much as a friend, a brother, not to be with you on this very special day in your life.  I want to be by your side, but will always respect your wishes,” I told Howie, as tears filled my eyes.

I formed the deaf sign for “I love you,” and silently mouthed the words to him.

He formed the sign to me in return, and silently mouthed “I love you too.”  Then quietly said, “Just don’t try to French me.” 

We both broke into laughter.

“Don’t worry,” I tried to say while giggling.  “I know where your tongue has been.”

“And I know where your tongue has been too!” Howie countered.

 “Touché.  But I also know how good you are with your fists!”

After we regained our composure, we ordered a couple of Murphy’s Stouts for after lunch. 

“Grant, I – I’m going to stick to my guns and let her know that you will be by my side at the wedding, Majid will be with you at the rehearsal dinner and the wedding, and Hassan and Dildar will be my guests at the wedding.  She may take the word ‘obey’ out of the vows, but it’s my wedding as much as it is hers. 

“Thank you for your support and your friendship.  She will have to make a decision as to what she wants – and make it soon.   Before the formal invitations get mailed and she wastes any more of daddy’s money,” Howie stated.  “She’s already spent twenty-five thou on her dress.  She had to have a Kleinfeld dress, and all six of her bridesmaids got their dresses there too.  The irony is that while the bridesmaids style of dress is the same, she had them get a rainbow of pastel colors.  Pink, peach, yellow, mint green, sky blue and lavender for the bridesmaids.  I nearly choked when she told me that.” 

“Oh, that’s great!  A homophobe having rainbow colors at the wedding.  She probably passed it off that they’re pastel and not really rainbow colors.”

“You got that exactly right!  And she wants the groomsmen to wear vests that match the girl’s dress he will escort down the aisle afterward.  I don’t remember what color the maid of honor is wearing – maybe lavender.”

I got choked between a swallow of beer and a laugh.  “Impeccable timing, Carson!” I replied, when I could talk.  “Let me know what she decides.  Oh, and make sure you catch the ring when she throws it at you.”  We stood to leave, hugged each other, and walked out together.  Outside, we had some small talk then separated to return to our cars.

To be continued... 

Posted: 11/09/18