A Tale of Two Omars

by Omar Sharif

  A week later, Gabriel called and said, “I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch. It’s not you. You haven’t done anything. It’s me. Like I told you before, I’m not in a good place—and I just wanted you to know that.”

  “Okay,” was all I needed to say.

  Gabriel had gone from someone I’d seen every day to someone I never saw again. As soon as I hung up, it hit me all over again, and somehow, I felt even worse. Subconsciously, maybe I’d hoped he was calling to apologize and get back together. I couldn’t call Dad, because he still didn’t know I was gay, and Mom still hadn’t accepted me. Her entire side of the family knew, and they were aware that I was dating Gabriel. They never said anything about it or treated me any differently, so I grabbed my car keys and headed out. I was certain I could talk to my cousin Jessica.

  I parked in front of Anne’s house and ran up to the front door, banging on it as if their house were on fire. Anne opened the door, and I could tell by her eyes that she detected the sadness on my face. Neither of us said anything. She stepped aside and let me in as if she knew something terrible had happened. I hurried past her, quickly climbed the flight of stairs, ran past the computer station, and knocked on Jessica’s white bedroom door. As soon as she answered, I saw her flushed eyes and beautiful face stained with tears. Anne probably thought I was there to comfort Jessica, but what I needed was for Jessica to console me.

  Jessica was a year younger than me, and she had always treated me well. She had thick, brown hair, dark brown eyes, and an oval-shaped face. She reminded me of Sandra Bullock. Her baby sister, Zoe, resembled Anne Hathaway. They are both beautiful girls and genuinely sweet.

  I shut the door and grabbed Jessica’s hand. “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  “I just broke up with Zach,” she whimpered.

  I broke down and started crying. Jessica wiped her puffy eyes with her hands and studied my face. She knew I wasn’t crying over Zach, because—why would I?

  “Omie, what is it?”

  “Gabriel broke up with me.”

  Jessica’s whimpers became loud, heaving sobs. She wrapped her arms around me until that wave of sadness was flushed out. When we plopped down on her bed, I was emotionally drained. Jessica positioned herself against the headboard; I leaned against the footboard, and we faced the window overlooking the backyard with tears rolling down our cheeks. The swing set and tree house that we played in as kids was still there—only we had changed. I wished life were that simple again, the way it had been when I was young, before the bullying began, before I knew I was gay, before Mom’s cancer, before Mom rejected me, and before Gabriel broke my heart. After a momentary silence, Jessica and I locked eyes and burst into laughter, grasping the absurdity of our despondency. Our mirth transitioned into drenching tears, a short pause, heaving sobs, and then back to explosive laughter. That’s when I realized how close those two emotions actually were. From then on, laughter became my coping mechanism. Whenever I had to deal with anything difficult or stressful, I simply made a punch line or joke of it. The relief from laughter was much stronger than the tears from sadness.

  Followed by a quick tap on Jessica’s door, Anne entered the room before Jessica could reply. Our heart-rending wails followed by bouts of hysterical laughter had drifted downstairs. Anne’s expression told us that she didn’t know what to make of the situation.

  “What happened?” Anne asked. She looked at Jessica first, and then her eyes turned to me when Jessica didn’t reply. “We,” I said, pointing at Jessica and then myself, “we were both dumped today.”

  Anne’s expression shifted from worried to pensive.

  “Are you okay?” she asked, glancing at the two of us.

  Jessica and I nodded, and then I confessed, “We’re just laughing and crying our way through it.”

  Anne nodded approvingly.

  “Losing the first person you love is really hard, but you’ll survive,” she assured us. She asked if we needed anything, and when we shook our heads, Anne left the room, gently closing the door behind her.

  Twenty minutes later, Anne returned to tell me Mom was there to pick me up. She must have told Mom what had happened because I didn’t need a ride. I gave Jessica a big hug and went downstairs to find Mom waiting for me at the foot of the stairs.

  “You broke up with Gabriel?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Are you upset?” she asked.

  “I was,” I replied, shrugging off her concern.

  Since Gabriel and I had returned from Turks and Caicos, I’d been going through the grieving process. That day was the end of it. That evening and that relationship ended in laughter.

  “There will always be more—put your losses behind you. He might have been your first, but he won’t be your last boyfriend,” Mom told me.

  It didn’t escape my notice that she’d said boyfriend.

  When we left Anne’s house, I headed to my car.

  “Follow me,” Mom insisted.

  “Where are we going?”

  “There’s one thing that always makes me feel better,” she said, before closing her car door.

  I followed Mom from Anne’s house through the streets of downtown Montreal. She pulled into a parking lot next to the Château d’Ivoire, one of the finest jewelry stores in town. I parked alongside of her and walked behind her into the building.

  “This is something I’ve been meaning to do for you,” she said. “I know you’ve wanted a nice watch because I’ve seen you looking at them. I want to get you one as a graduation gift and to thank you for taking the year off school for me. Today won’t be the day you got dumped, but the day you got that timepiece you’ve wanted,” she said, tapping on the glass case with a Bulgari watch right below her index finger.

  The watch was Mom’s way of saying she understood my pain. She’d been through the heartache of breakups and a divorce, which allowed her to identify with the feelings I had for Gabriel. Human emotions are neither gay nor straight, and this was her unique way of showing that she finally accepted me.

  From that day on, I was resolved not to let anyone else or any other boyfriend enter my heart until I could fully love myself. I closed off my heart to outside influences while I worked to accept, appreciate, and love the most important relationship in my life, the one with someone I was just beginning to know, the one with me. Until then, I would allow no other relationship to take precedence. If I wasn’t learning or growing and receiving an equal amount of love as I was giving, I would end that relationship immediately. And when it would end, I’d just laugh it off—and then buy myself something nice.

  I waited so long to have that first boyfriend, and I’d hoped it would last forever; but nothing lasts forever. It was the end of my degree at Queen’s University, of my first relationship, of Mom’s illness, of her not accepting me, and of my life in Montreal. It was a time of closure and new beginnings.

  6

  New Beginnings

  In June, I returned to my aristocratic home in Egypt. I was back on my usual schedule of time with Dad, Karem, and Faten before two weeks in France with Grandfather. That summer, I was more popular than I’d ever been. I think people sensed I was freer and lighter than ever before. I attributed it to the fact that Mom, Uncle Holden, Aunt Anne, Aunt Natalie, Uncle Simon, Aunt Evelyn, Lisa, Jessica, Mikey and that entire side of my family knew I was gay. Their acceptance had given me peace and closure. Now, I only had two worlds.

  The deferral of my master’s was a bit of a blessing because two of my best friends from Queen’s University were going to be joining me at the London School of Economics. Not only was I moving to London that October—I was going to be living with Raphael, who had played for the lacrosse team, and Sara. Raph and I had traveled together during spring break every year since we met, and we were practically brothers by that point. Even our parents became friends. It didn’t take long for me to settle in London and acclimate to the program at LSE. It had a worldwide academic reputation, and I loved being in Lond
on. It was closer to Egypt, which made it easier to see my family and spend time with my little brother on holiday weekends. When I had time off from university, I met them in Rome, Paris, or Madrid, and went home to Egypt two additional times that year.

  To better adapt and meet people in London, I made a standing reservation for myself at Nobu, a Japanese restaurant in Berkeley Square, every Friday night. I’d just sit at the bar and talk to people. I quickly discovered that I had a unique ability to connect. After two weeks, I became friends with people from the upper echelons of London society, which was based on prestige, respect, and old money. Because of my grandfather, I could get into any private club I wanted—including Annabel’s, where aristocrats, tycoons, and royals like Princess Diana used to party.

  Dad and Grandmother were proud that I’d been accepted to LSE and gave me money each month for rent, living, and tuition. As far back as I could recall, Grandmother Faten had wanted me to become a banker, a lawyer, or a doctor—anything but an actor. Since they were paying all my bills in London, I could just focus on school and enjoy life. I lived on a nearly unlimited budget, with access to all the greatest nightclubs, museums, and events. My first week there, I went into the Royal Opera House and bought tickets for the entire opera and ballet seasons. Almost every day, after school or on my lunch break, I’d go to the last-minute ticket kiosks and buy day-of tickets to see a musical or a play. Often, I went by myself. I enjoyed being alone and merely social. Naturally, there were occasions when I invited people to go with me, but I didn’t date, nor did I try to. I just appreciated exploring the culture and the city, developing friendships, and going to as many events as I could. This was a year of personal edification, of being selfish and spoiled. I felt like I’d been taking care of everyone, and I needed to put that on hold. London meant total freedom, so I claimed it and continued finding myself.

  Queen’s had been a period of change, but London was a time of significant transformation. While Gabriel and I never spoke again, his fashion influence remained strong. I couldn’t avoid the allure of the West End boutiques or the famed shops on Bond Street. The most exclusive brands, designer fashion, fine jewelry, and luxury goods were laid at my feet, making it easy for me to spend a small fortune. As I now cared about my image, I wore the beautiful clothing I bought to my standing reservations at Nobu. I spent years carefully observing Grandfather connect and interact with anyone he wanted. I’d studied him sitting at the piano in the lobby of the hotel he frequented most often. It was how he drew people in. He was finely dressed and as classy as ever. His singing wasn’t the best, but it didn’t matter, because it was authentic. He attracted the attention of the most beautiful women, and then he’d invite them to dinner that evening. Sometimes they became brief affairs, and others were just companions. When he didn’t want to be alone, he wasn’t.

  Maybe Grandfather had it right, and I’d had it wrong all along. Maybe true companionship couldn’t come from one person, especially for someone who lives in multiple worlds, and during my time in London I found that friends are for friendship, lovers for love, and family for fulfillment. I’d studied Grandfather so much over the years that, unconsciously, I’d taken on some of his mannerisms and cultivated a handful of the same instincts. With little effort, I’d connect with the most fascinating, beautiful people. Often, it was a fabulously dressed woman who was alone. Like Grandfather, I’d meet my dinner date at the bar downstairs at Nobu and invite him or her to have dinner with me or go to the theater just for companionship.

  Natasha was one of the women I met at Nobu. She was intelligent, charming, crafty, sexual, and seductively beautiful. Within minutes, I found out that she worked for a hedge fund. She began to travel everywhere with me, and even met Grandmother Faten in Cairo, who was convinced I was dating a high-class hooker, although Natasha obviously wasn’t. She was, however, outrageously wild and adventurous—like me. Natasha lived life to the fullest and disregarded the repercussions. Our subsequent travels led to many sordid adventures, which helped to free the parts of my personality and sexuality I had repressed in an attempt to always be proper.

  The more I learned who I was, the more I mirrored Grandfather. There were moments when I thought about certain aspects of his life and then considered my own. I’d smile because it felt like The Tale of Two Omars. Like Grandfather, I loved culture, art, and museums. Admiring and appreciating life, I’d frequently walk along the banks of the Thames and across the London Millennium Footbridge, stroll past the Globe, and head to the Tate Modern, where I’d sit on a bench and study or read.

  That year was expansive. Having Raph at LSE was like having a piece of Queen’s with me, and that meant the world to me. Queen’s was where my confidence had evolved, and Raph accepted the real me. He was a constant reminder that it was okay for me to be who I was while doing what I loved. Raph was my straight friend, the athlete, the jock, and the superstar from Queen’s. He’d traveled with Dad and me to Paris and Barcelona that year and helped build the bridge between my world at Queen’s and the Egyptian side of my family, allowing me to be more myself. Raph helped me connect the separate worlds like a Venn diagram. All three worlds were beginning to exist together and not on the peripheries of one another. The circles kept moving inward, and I hoped that one day they might become concentric. I wanted to live in one world with one me, one Omar.

  The summer before I returned to Egypt to write my thesis and take up residence, Raph, Sara, Graham, and a few other friends decided to spend two weeks in Israel and Palestine. I hadn’t been to Israel since my high school trip and decided to join. Our plans were to go to Tel Aviv, rent a house, sit on the beach, spend a day in Jerusalem, and go to the Dead Sea. Gill even flew in to join us, and I showed her around London then took her to Bath and Stonehenge before leaving for Israel. At the airport, security was set up outside of the ticketing area for prescreening. They saw the name on my passport and flagged me. I didn’t think much about it, because they screen the flights to Israel well, but I wanted to show my friends that it was okay, so I spoke to security in fluent Hebrew. But because of my Arabic name, speaking Hebrew made security come the conclusion that I must be Hamas or Hezbollah. Throughout the airport, security followed us around. A guy using a newspaper to shield his face tailed us everywhere we went. He was so busy following me that he didn’t notice his paper was upside down; it was like a bad spy novel. When I reached my gate, security told me that I couldn’t wait with the other passengers; I had to wait underground, under the tarmac. They made Raph go with me because they saw a guy with an Arabic name and a Frenchman traveling together, and probably assumed we were headed to Israel to engage in some unknown terrorist activity. They went through all our bags and strip searched us, swiping handheld metal detector paddles between our butt cheeks.

  Despite our experience at the airport, when we arrived, we had the most amazing time, filled with parties, beach adventures, and touring. I fell so in love with the land, the people, and the region that I decided to change the subject of my thesis at the last minute to conflict resolution in the Middle East. My work covered the primordial sources and modern-day manifestations of conflict between the Arab states and Israel. I addressed where the sources of conflict began, how they evolved, where they are to date, and offered a prognosis. It was a significant research project—mostly to me. It helped me bridge and reconcile the Hebrew and Arab in me, the Jewish, Christian, and Muslim, and further understand my quest to bring these circles together.

  Upon my return to London, the student government at LSE brought up a motion to have the university divest from Israel. The Boycott, Divestment, and Sanctions movement (or BDS) had been gaining popularity across campuses worldwide, and I had very mixed emotions on the issue. While I empathized with the plight of Palestinian people throughout much of twentieth-century history, I also fully understood the need for a Jewish state, given my grandparents’ experiences during the Holocaust. I was torn. Sara, my flatmate and friend from Queen’s, offered me some a
dvice that stuck with me forever. She said, “You don’t need to divest of something in order to invest in something else.” She told me that if I empathized with the Palestinian cause, I should support it and invest in it. It suddenly became clear to me that politics didn’t need to be a zero-sum game. Together, we campaigned on campus to raise funds for a charity that provided medical and humanitarian relief to Palestinian children, rather than engaging in the toxic and negative BDS debates that others were having around us.

  I lived in London until the following October, when I graduated with a master’s degree in comparative politics and conflict studies. Then, beginning in late 2007, the financial markets around the world crashed. I’d spent all this time studying politics and economics and earning a master’s degree, and suddenly it seemed as though no one was hiring, let alone a foreigner without a UK work permit. After months of searching aggressively, I could see that it was unlikely that I’d find a job in London. Grandmother did what she said she would do, but after I graduated, she wasn’t going to continue paying for my ritzy lifestyle in London. Raph was a French citizen, so he found a job and stayed in London. Meanwhile, Sara returned to Canada, while I went home to Egypt.

  In Egypt, I worked a simple gig as an underwear model while looking for acting jobs and working for Dad at his restaurants. While I was there, Natasha came to visit again. My cousins Mikey and Jessica came to Egypt for the first time, too, and I took pride in showing them around, so they could see for themselves the beautiful country I’d spoken of. I wanted them to see how much I loved Egypt, the archeological sites, and the beaches, and how wonderful the people are. I reunited with old friends from before college and became much closer to my brother Karem. I’d always felt that Egypt was a big part of me, but it was during that year that I realized I’m not part Egyptian—I am Egyptian.