38. Omar Matty meets Teto
I ducked as Matty tossed his third shirt across the room to land atop a pile in the corner. He’d been a human whirlwind since we finished breakfast in bed and began readying ourselves for the day.
“Why didn’t I bring anything to wear?” he whined as he rifled through a dozen outfits. “Your grandmother is going to take one look at me, laugh, and tell you to kick my pretty little ass out of the country.”
I tried not to laugh, but watching Matty was like watching a marathon of Will and Grace or The Golden Girls or Sex and the City , maybe all three combined. There was no way to keep a straight face.
“Teto will love you, no matter what you wear,” I said, daring to enter the fray.
A stern gaze made me shrink back. “I will not show up in just anything. This is important, Omar.”
Knowing a losing battle when I saw one, I clamped my mouth shut and watched the show. The only thing missing was popcorn.
He finally settled on a loose-fitting sky-blue shirt and white pants, looking more like a model in a cruise ship ad than a tourist, but the blue brought out the gold in his hair, so I loved it.
Ramy, our faithful guide and guard, met us in the lobby and escorted us to his waiting car. Forty-five minutes later, we pulled into Teto’s development, a massive ring of luxury mid-rise condos called The Fifth Settlement. The guard who checked our papers flinched as he took my passport from Ramy’s hand. His quick glance into the back seat was followed by a respectful, almost reverential nod.
“What the hell was that?” Matty whispered.
“Government officials are, um, viewed differently here.”
How was I supposed to explain authoritarianism that embedded a culture of subservience throughout thousands of years of history? I hadn’t personally experienced it beyond an occasional visit, but I saw it in action in the people I encountered with each trip. Class structure in America was a political talking point. In the Middle East, it was almost as much of a religion as, well, the religion.
“This place is huge!” Matty said, staring up at the buildings.
“It isn’t all residential. The American and German Universities are in here, along with hundreds of retail shops. The idea, when this place was built, was for residents to never have to leave the bubble, giving them more privacy and security than any community in Cairo.”
“Sounds posh,” Matty said.
I chuckled. “It isn’t a place most can afford.”
“So.” Matty drew out the word to a full three syllables. “What you’re saying is that your family isn’t just politically connected? They’re rich, too?”
I knew he didn’t mean anything negative by the question, but it still made me want to crawl under the driver’s seat and hide.
“In Egypt, it is difficult to be one without the other.”
Matty took that, rolled it around on his tongue, then spat it out. “That’s how it is everywhere. Money buys power and influence. You’re not so different over here.”
I threw my hands up. “Don’t lump me in. I’m just a NICU nurse in Atlanta. My dad’s the fancy man.”
Ramy snorted from the front seat. I hadn’t realized he’d been listening, which was silly, because the man listened to—and saw—everything. That was his job.
Two quick turns and the car stopped at the circular drive of a mid-rise one might see in the most exclusive of London neighborhoods, only the British version would’ve been hundreds of years older than this shiny, new construction.
Matty whistled. “Your grandmother lives here?”
“Come on. No more questions. It’s time for your trial.”
“Trial?” he nearly squealed as we exited the car and walked through the lobby door. “What do you mean trial? What are you talking about? Omar!”
I laughed. I couldn’t help it. Matty was easy and funny and so very gullible. It was one of the many adorable things I loved about him.
“I was teasing. Teto will love you. Just be your effervescent self.”
“Wait.” He tilted his head. “When we got here, you told me to tone down my sparkle. Now, you’re telling me to shine like the brilliant constellation I am. Which is it?”
I grinned. “You shine your perky little ass off, baby. Trust me, Teto will love you just as much as I do.”
The moment we stepped into the elevator, Matty began fidgeting with his hair. He wasn’t fixing anything, just moving curls around. He’d get one flung back into whatever place his mind dreamed up, then turn his attention on another, only to have the first one jiggle free and return to its former home. When he finally gave up and let out a frustrated sigh, we’d reached Teto’s floor.
“The penthouse?” Matty gawked. “Omar, you’ve been holding out on me.”
I leaned over, kissed him, then whispered, “Ask your ass if I’ve been holding back.”
Color flooded his cheeks . . .
. . . as the doors opened to reveal an elderly woman with steel gray hair dressed in gray sweatpants and a German University sweatshirt, a glass of something golden cradled in one hand.
“Hello, Teto,” I said, feeling the warmth of her sun against my skin.
“Omar, out of the way,” she commanded, shooing me inside—and to the side—with her unburdened hand. “Matthew, get in here. Now. Stand before me.”
Matty, dumbfounded, shuffled forward like a prisoner in irons, heading toward the gallows. His eyes were wide, and his face fixed in horror, as he stared at the woman who’d just ordered him to his death.
I had to turn away. She was slathering it on thick.
“Stop,” Teto barked. “Turn around.”
Matty looked to me. I shrugged and did a “twirl” gesture with my finger. His brows bunched in the universal, “Are you serious?” gesture, so I nodded and did the twirl thing again.
Reluctantly, he looked back at Teto, then slowly turned clockwise.
“No!” she snapped.
Matty froze.
“Turn the other way. The proper way. Do you Americans know nothing?”
That was when I lost it.
Teto wheeled about, fixing me with her gaze, one hand slamming to her hip as the glass-laden one pointed in my direction.
“You, hamama saghira , be quiet!”
“Little pigeon?” I spat through tearful laughter. “That is terrible, Teto, even for you.”
She glared a moment, then a smile slipped through a crack in her veneer. A heartbeat later, her old cackles joined with my laughter, leaving Matty staring in bewilderment. Teto set her drink on a table and threw herself into me. I squeezed her with all the might of a small boy seeing his grandmother after a long while.
“I missed you so, my hafed .”
She only used “grandson” when she was being sincere, without any added irony or humor. I was a bit taken aback by the sudden show of emotion in front of Matty, but I relished it all the same.
“Teto, I missed you so much,” I said, burying my face in her neck and drinking in the scent of roses from her face cream. My earliest memories of her were of that beautiful aroma. It was Teto, in every sense: beautiful, sweet, and made my head spin more than a little.
“Now,” she said, pulling back and giving me a private wink. “Let’s see about this Matthew you brought before my altar. Is he a sacrifice or—”
“Sacrifice?” Matty repeated.
“She’s joking,” I said, finally rescuing my poor man. “Just get over here and give her a hug.”
Teto didn’t wait, moving faster than I thought possible for a woman of her age. Matty had to brace himself to keep from stumbling backward. In a flash, my grandmother’s spindly arms were wrapped around his torso, and she was whispering something I couldn’t hear, likely wisdom laced with nicknames Matty would never fully appreciate.
He looked up from her to me, his eyes still wide, blinking in an odd rhythm, like he was—
He reached up and wiped a tear.
Holy crap. Matty was crying. My heart wanted to explode right there in Teto’s foyer. Then Teto released him and turned—and she had to wipe a tear.
What in the name of the whole Egyptian pantheon was happening?
“All right, you two,” Teto said, her voice oddly shaky compared to the drill sergeant who’d greeted us. “Get those cute little asses in here. I made brunch. Well, I had cook make brunch, but that’s the same thing, isn’t it?”
Matty gaped.
I beamed.
Teto strode away with the intent of a soldier taking a hill.
I grabbed Matty’s hand, gave him a supportive squeeze, then dragged him after my grandmother. She was a force of nature and would not be put off, no matter how shell shocked he felt. It was my job to see to it he survived the storm so he could enjoy the sunshine on the other side.
We stepped through a central hallway that connected the foyer to a large, open living room elegantly decorated with white couches and chairs, with a few pieces of feminine woodwork tossed in for good measure. A grandfather clock towered over one end, while oil paintings depicting desert scenes adorned the other walls.
I pulled us onward through an arched opening across the living room, leading us into Teto’s kitchen. The round glass-top table in her breakfast nook was littered with steaming dishes and perfectly laid place settings.
“Would you like tea?” Teto asked Matty.
He looked at me, desperation causing him to sweat.
“What?”
He leaned so close he could’ve licked my ear, then whispered, “Is that a trick question? In some countries, refusing tea starts wars or something.”
I snorted.
“ Mada qalib ?” Teto asked.
What did he say?
Her curious gaze was irresistible.
“ Yred an yaarof mae edha kent taqadem chai khadda ,” I answered.
He wants to know if you offering tea is a trick.
Her hand flew to her mouth, and her eyes crinkled as bouts of laughter shook her tiny frame. The sound was pure, unadulterated joy. It seeped into my soul, and flashbacks of laughing with her when I was a boy invaded my mind. Before I knew it, we were both doubled over, laughing our asses off, as Matty stood and stared with the look of a man who’d just been struck by a random llama attack.
Why a llama? Who knows? It was a thing.
Teto and I switched back to English.
“Come, sit. Drink whatever you like. Tea, water, wine? I have some harder liquor, if you Americans drink such things at eleven o’clock in the morning.” She raised her glass in salute and downed whatever was in it, whiskey or bourbon, if my guess was correct. Time was irrelevant to the elderly; at least, it was to my Teto.
“Wine, white wine,” Matty said. “I really, really need a glass of wine.”
“One grape juice, coming right up.” Teto snorted again, then turned toward me. “For you, my little zalabiya al-dajaj ?”
I dropped into a chair and tried to rein in my laughter.
“What?” Matty asked, settling into the chair beside me.
“That little demon”—I pointed at Teto, who was watching us with glee—“likes making up nicknames.”
“You told me. What was that one?”
“Chicken dumpling,” Teto supplied before I could speak.
Matty’s eyes bulged, then he spat a laugh and had to cover his mouth. It was like watching a balloon slowly leak air, his confidence returning and fear subsiding. He pointed up at Teto, mouth still covered, eyes sparkling with mischief, and said, “I think we’re gonna get along just fine, grammy.”
“Grammy!” Teto cackled as she turned to retrieve our drinks. I wasn’t sure why that was so funny, but she seemed to like it.
Once Teto delivered our drinks, we sat around the table, eating and chatting and laughing. My grandmother was in rare form, and Matty’s sequined sensibilities spurred on her good humor.
Matty complained that she’d prepared too much food, but she shooed him away and said, “Nonsense! A skinny man cannot be a happy one!”
By the end of our meal, the two of them were giggling like children, while I sat back and sipped my tea, a grin never leaving my lips. I couldn’t remember feeling so relaxed, so at ease—so at home.
With Teto and Matty?
That felt like home?
I knew it was true, but my brain and heart struggled for dominance. Teto was a million years old, and she lived thousands of miles away. Matty had just met her, and well, he was Matty. Outside her apartment, Matty’s flamboyance wouldn’t be accepted in Egyptian culture. But inside Teto’s realm, she welcomed him as a long-lost son.
There were no words.
I could only watch and marvel as the two most important people in my world bonded before my eyes.
It didn’t matter that I’d been forgotten as they gabbed and jabbed and joked.
I didn’t care that I was more a spectator than a participant in their revelry.
Deep in my heart, I knew I was watching my family form, witnessing my future knit itself together to form the most beautiful tapestry.
I wanted to cry and shout and run with my hands in the air. It felt like I was doing all of those things as I sat there trying to contain myself. This was going better than I could have ever dreamed.
Then Matty looked at me and asked, “So, what are we doing today?”
“Yeah, hashra saghira , what are we doing?” Teto echoed.
Little bug . At least that one was cute.
“We are going shopping,” I said.
Matty leaped out of his chair, clapping and spinning like he’d just won the grand prize on a game show. Teto howled and clapped her hands, then jumped up and started spinning with Matty.
I stared in disbelief at the teenagers wheeling about in Teto’s kitchen.
At Teto’s instruction—because the staff would take care of everything—we left the kitchen and breakfast nook in complete disarray. We found Ramy sitting in a plush chair in the lobby reading a newspaper.
For our first stop, Teto insisted we take Matty to a spice market. The air was thick with the scents of cumin, cinnamon, and saffron, and Teto took it upon herself to teach Matty the art of bargaining.
“No, no, no,” Teto scolded when Matty tried to pay full price for a small bag of hibiscus tea. “Watch and learn, my dear.”
I stood well back, knowing the shitstorm that was about to blow through.
She launched into a spirited negotiation with the vendor, her hands flying as she switched seamlessly between Arabic and English. By the time she was done, she’d secured the tea for a quarter of the price and charmed the vendor into throwing in a handful of fresh dates.
“That,” she said, handing Matty the tea, “is how it’s done.”
“Teto, you’re a legend,” he said, impressed.
“Of course I am,” she replied with a wink while snaking her hand inside Matty’s arm, marking him as her escort. I trailed behind them as the pair sniffed every bottle, jar, and urn they could reach.
Matty glanced back, a wicked grin on his lips. “She’s so much better at this than you are.”
Teto barked a laugh.
“Hey! I’m a brilliant negotiator.”
“But I’m a better haggler,” Teto corrected.
Matty squeezed her to him as though she was his grandmother.
Next, we visited a textile shop where Teto insisted on wrapping Matty in an assortment of colorful scarves. I watched with a mix of amusement and exasperation as my grandmother cooed over my boyfriend.
“Doesn’t he look fabulous?” she asked, holding up a deep blue scarf against his pale face while looking back at me. “Omar, you are lucky I do not keep him for myself.”
“Teto, please,” I said through a smile.
“Don’t worry, hamama al-salahafa ,” she said, draping the scarf over my shoulder with a flourish. “I’m all yours.”
Turtle dove . That was a new one.
The highlight of our day was a visit to a bustling outdoor café. Teto insisted we try sugarcane juice and a variety of pastries. As we sat under the shade of an awning, she regaled Matty with stories of my childhood while I sunk into my chair like a slug enjoying a salt bath.
“Did you know he used to cry every time his mother tried to cut his hair?” she said, her eyes sparkling. “She had to bribe him with sweets just to get him to sit still.”
“Teto!” I groaned, burying my face in my hands.
“What? He should know these things. If you’re going to marry him, you need to know the full story.”
Matty froze, and so did I.
There it was, out in the open.
I glanced at Matty, whose cheeks were now a lovely shade of crimson.
“Teto,” I said, my voice soft but firm. “Please.”
She patted my hand. “Do not mind me. I am just an old woman with big dreams.”
“You have never been just anything,” I replied.
She gave me her all-knowing smile but said nothing else.
We moved on to our next stop: a stroll through a garden filled with blooming flowers and shaded pathways. Teto took Matty’s arm again, leaving me to trail behind as she pointed out her favorite spots.
“You know, Matty, Omar is a good boy,” she said, her voice tinged with affection. “But he is an Egyptian man, which makes him very stubborn. You must not let him get away with too much.”
“Oh, don’t worry, Teto.” I could hear the grin in his voice. “I keep him on his toes.”
She laughed, rich and warm. “Good. He needs someone like you.”
As the sun began to set, we found ourselves walking down a quiet street lined with old, charming buildings that spoke of an ancient civilization as much as any pyramid. The air was cooler now, and golden light made everything look like it was bathed in honey.
Teto stopped and sat on a bench.
“You two keep going. I would like a moment,” she said.
Matty cocked his head, likely trying to interpret her sudden need for rest, but she ignored him, giving me one of her trademarked winks.
“Don’t argue when you’ve won,” I whispered to him loud enough for her to hear, earning a cackle.
The bench sat at the top of a circular walk made of cobbles whose mortar had long since worn away. Lush greenery in the center spoke of years of care and tending, especially for a garden in a desert. Matty reached out and touched leaves as we passed, running them between his fingers as if trying to memorize their texture. When we’d made a complete loop, barely speaking as we walked, Teto stood and bade Matty to sit.
He eyed her, then searched my eyes, then surrendered to whatever chicanery we had planned and sat. Teto reached up and pulled my face to hers, pressing our foreheads together, then kissed my cheek, holding her lips to my skin for an eternal heartbeat. When we pulled apart, her eyes twinkled with light reflecting off tears.
“Go on,” she whispered. “You know my answer.”
Leaving the warmth of my grandmother’s touch, I turned to stand before Matty’s bench.
“What was the question?” he asked.
When confusion filled my face, he added, “She said you knew her answer. What was the question?”
I sucked in a breath and ignored his query, dropping to one knee on the cold cobbles.
“Matty, I am probably about to stumble worse that you have ever seen. Please forgive me in advance.”
His eyes narrowed, then widened.
“I love you more than anyone in the world, Matthew Vance. You bring light to my life, chasing away the darkness, making me want to be the best version of myself. No one has ever done that for me.”
Teto coughed.
“Except Teto,” I added with a smirk in her direction. She nodded and grinned.
“Anyway,” I barreled forward. “I wanted to bring you here, to Egypt, to the place of my birth. I wanted you to see who I am at my very core, to meet Teto, to feel the love I have felt throughout my life, simply by being her grandson.
“I suppose, this was a little test to see how she would like you, but there was never any doubt. You are the most lovable, wonderful, irresistible man in the world. Who wouldn’t fall in love with you?”
I gulped and steeled myself.
“My life was fine before you came along, but it wasn’t brilliant or fabulous . . . or full. Matty, you make my life full. You make it feel brighter and happier and, I don’t know, like I can do anything—be anything—as long as you are with me. You make me feel all of that and so much more.”
I reached into my pocket, and Matty gasped. Behind me, Teto sniffed.
When I held up a platinum band surrounding a ring of diamonds, Matty’s hands flew to his mouth.
“I don’t want to live a single day without you. My heart can barely take the days we’re apart yet living in the same city. I need you in my life, Matthew Vance, now and forever. Will you marry me?”
“Oh . . . my . . . God,” Matty whispered, his eyes overflowing with liquid joy.
I waited.
And waited.
And waited.
Finally, Matty snatched the ring from my hand, thrust it onto his finger, and fell forward, knocking me flat on my back. “Yes! Yes, of course!”
I kissed him as cheers erupted from somewhere behind us. Teto, of course. She clapped and shouted in Arabic. As we struggled to our feet, wiry arms wrapped around us both, squishing us together and holding us in place.
“I knew it would happen today. I just knew it!” she said through sobs. “Matty, welcome to the family, risha jamila .”
I jerked back and scowled at my grandmother.
“What?” She spread her arms.
“I get bug references, and he gets ‘pretty feather’?”
She howled, and we fell back into the warmest, happiest group hug.
Standing there, squeezed between Matty and Teto beneath the rising Egyptian moon, I felt like the luckiest man in the world.
Because I wasn’t just in Cairo with my boyfriend.
I was in Cairo with my fiancé, and it couldn’t get better than that.