39. Epilogue
Matty
Piedmont Hospital was such a special place. I loved it the moment I started working there. The facilities were world class, the cafeteria food didn’t suck, and the people—even the doctors—treated each other like family. I hadn’t worked in any other hospitals, but nurses I knew talked about how unique our little world truly was.
The ER and NICU teams banded together.
They had one mission: to make one day in the life of the hospital so memorable it would live long after all of us were gone. They decorated and baked, bought cakes and drinks (non-alcoholic because, well, hospital), hung banners, brought in flowers, and a few of the musically inclined even came together to learn some sheet music.
When I stepped into the chapel and saw the flowers, food, and festive staff in attendance, my nerves kicked into high gear, and I had to cross my legs and do a pee-pee dance to keep from soiling our special moment.
Elliot’s stone visage shattered, and he howled at my distress.
I hated to admit it, but he looked damn fine in his dark suit, all swarthy and chiseled and tanned. Stupid lineman and his perfect smile.
Sisi waved from her spot in the front row, my front row.
Omar’s mother turned and gave me a rare smile. Teto hopped up and down like a teen at a concert, flapping her arms and howling words in Arabic that were either well-wishes, compliments, or menu items on the Italian restaurant next door. With her, it was anyone’s guess.
Omar stood at the end of the aisle near the stage-like area. One of our doctors, an ordained minister, stood beside him. They both looked so sharp in their black tuxedoes, Omar especially. He wore a blue lotus on his lapel, a nod to Egypt, no doubt at Teto’s request.
I don’t think he had ever looked so handsome.
The moment I stepped through the double doors, his head snapped up and the brightest smile ever to part a man’s lips burst free. My heart wanted to jump and sing and fly out of my chest, all at the same time.
That smile was mine—and mine alone.
I knew that now.
I had no more doubts.
But I was still nervous as hell. Why was committing your life to the person you loved so damn nerve-wracking? Shouldn’t it be all sunshine and rainbows, like walking through a park holding hands or getting slammed up against a washing machine and pounded into the last century? Neither of those made me nervous. I might have trouble sitting for a few days, but my heart wouldn’t race so hard I wanted to call a cardiac team.
What was it about this particular day that sent everyone into a tizzy?
The medical orchestra began to play the song that was my cue.
I gripped the back pew for support and sucked in air.
Elliot grabbed my arm and forced it to twine with his. “Deep breaths. You’ve got this.”
My parents couldn’t come—or wouldn’t, I wasn’t sure. They’d always been supportive, never caring that I was gay or fabulous or whatever, but something about a wedding in a hospital crossed a line for them.
We likewise regretted the absence of Omar’s dad. That morning, as we were readying for the occasion, jostling for a place before the mirror in Omar’s bathroom, a BBC presenter’s voice was sidelined by that of the British Prime Minister. Omar stopped futzing with his hair long enough to peek into his bedroom and stare at the screen.
“. . . passing was not sudden, but was nonetheless shocking. While Ambassador Gamal served only a few months as Egypt’s voice to the United Kingdom, his lifetime of work within our borders will be felt for generations. Rarely does a foreign dignitary ingratiate himself so deeply into the British society. He was a powerful voice and a respected gentleman. On behalf of the British people, we offer his family and the nation of Egypt our deepest condolences. My friend, Mahmoud, you will be deeply missed.”
The PM actually teared up as he spoke. Watching British politicians on TV had never been a hobby of mine, but I was fairly certain such an overt show of emotions was rare. I’d had no idea how well-liked Omar’s father had been. All I’d known was that he wasn’t an ally to our union. Watching the leader of the UK shed a tear for the man gave me a new perspective, a grudging respect.
Omar didn’t speak after the news threw to commercial. He just stared at the screen, not really seeming to see anything.
Unsure what to say or do, I held him. His mind surely swam with a range of emotions. He loved his father. I know he did; but the gulf between them was greater than either could cross. I knew Omar wished he could have seen how happy we were, how happy he was, as we committed to each other, but even if he’d lived to see the day, we doubted his beliefs would’ve allowed him to join us.
Those were the only elements of regret to our perfect day, but I refused to let them bring me down.
Elliot stepped in without a moment’s hesitation and offered to give me away. Squeezing his ridiculous bicep, I knew there was no one in the world I would rather have stand in for me than that big ox. I glanced up to find my best friend—my stoic best friend—batting away tears as though gnats were swarming his face.
I think that was the moment it all clicked into place, and I realized I was about to commit my life to another human being.
My life. As in lifetime. As in the whole thing.
Holy shit.
My uterus almost fell out.
And I don’t even have one of those.
Elliot took a step.
I didn’t move.
He tugged, dragging me forward, and I swear I heard Teto laugh. That woman.
We passed Amy Lynn, the HR rep who surprised everyone by taking charge of all the decorations. Carlie sat beside her. She was already blotting tears with a tissue. Doctor Halliway sat in the next row. I nearly tripped when I saw the evil Doctor Michaels two seats down scrolling through his phone. He looked up, and while he didn’t smile, he did offer a sharp nod. That was as good as Teto’s happy dance.
My heart stopped when we reached the first row. To my left was Teto and Omar’s mom.
To my right . . .
Beside Sisi was Jeanette. Next to her sat Emily. In her arms was the most beautiful baby boy. Josh had made it, not just to our special day. He’d actually made it.
I wasn’t sure it was possible to feel more joy than in that moment . . .
And then Elliot handed me off to Omar, and our eyes locked.
The flowers and food and drinks and presents, they all vanished.
Those in attendance disappeared.
Even the officiant became a blur in my peripheral vision.
There was only Omar.
I was lost in his gaze, so lost I doubted I would ever find my way home.
That was until a part of my mind laughed and reminded me that he was my home now. Getting lost in his eyes was coming home. It was . . .
It was everything.
He smiled and ducked his head, in that shy way a boy with a crush might do. My insides threated to become outsides it was so damn cute. I wanted to grab him, smash our lips together, and never be apart again.
How had I ever caught his eye?
How could I be so lucky?
How was any of this possible?
“We are gathered here today . . .” the officiant began. I knew I should’ve turned and paid attention, but my eyes refused to budge. Omar’s grip was steel, his hold on me absolute. I couldn’t look away. I didn’t want to.
“ . . . Matty?”
My daydream popped like a bubble, and my head snapped to the officiant. I had no idea what he’d said or asked. Shit. I hadn’t heard a word.
“Yes! I do! Whatever you said, God yes!”
Heartfelt laughter bubbled up from the crowd. Teto cackled and clapped. The officiant chuckled.
And Omar smiled and squeezed my hand.
And he said, “Me, too.”
Many of our guests had to return to rotations—or in some cases, start them. We stood at the front of the chapel, eating cake and drinking punch with Elliot, Sisi, Teto, Omar’s mother, and a few others for roughly an hour.
Omar’s eyes, no matter with whom he spoke, kept flitting back to mine, sending a thrill of electricity through my body I had only dreamed of, or seen in books or movies. I still couldn’t believe any of this was real.
“Omar, it’s time,” I heard Jeanette say, rubbing his arm as an orderly wheeled a chair down the aisle.
Omar caught my eye and motioned for me to join him as he kneeled before the front row where Emily and Josh still sat. The baby was sleeping despite the raucous laughter and chatter filling the room.
“Can I bust a lady out of jail?” Omar said in a terrible faux Atlanta accent.
Emily’s laugh was the merry tinkling of a wind chime on a spring day. Josh stirred. His eyes flew wide as his hand shot out and gripped Omar’s finger. There was no separating those two. It made my heart sing.
“Bust me out, Omar. I’m ready—and so is Josh!” Emily said.
With that agreement, we helped the pair into the wheelchair, and Omar shooed away the orderly. There was no way he would let anyone else guide Emily on this voyage. Teto and Omar’s mother joined us, as did Jeanette, as we wheeled back up the aisle, through the hospital lobby, and out the sliding doors of the main entrance.
Emily sucked in the somewhat fresh air that always smelled a bit of ambulance fumes and motor oil.
Josh gurgled, as babies do.
Omar’s smile was the radiance of the sun.
We loaded mother and son into a car and wished them well, promising to see them both soon. Omar was, after all, the godfather of the toughest little survivor alive.
As we watched them drive away, I wrapped my arm around Omar.
A second later, Teto’s arms enveloped me.
Then Omar’s mother stunned us all.
Stepping around our pack to stand before her son, Layla Gamal, dressed in her ambassadorial finest, gripped both his arms and said, “Omar, my baby boy, I am so very proud of you.”
Then she turned to me and cupped my cheek. “And Matty, my love is yours, as well.”
Omar and Teto gaped. I blubbered like a newborn. Layla smiled with the warmth of a mother.
And that was when our lives truly began.
***
Join the next adventure in the Heartstrings of Honor series , featuring Elliot, in The Lineman .