Aisha’s face shone with optimism as she said, "In any case, here’s good news. This morning I told Fahmy how you were doing when he asked about your health. He told me the pain troubling you was a sign the broken bone was starting to mend".
Fahmy’s name brought Amina back from the depths of her thoughts. She asked, "Did they all get off safely?"
Khadija replied, "Of course. They wanted to speak to you and reassure themselves about you, but I wouldn't let anyone wake you after we'd gotten white hair waiting for you to doze off".
Their mother sighed with resignation, "Praise to God in any case. May our Lord make everything turn out for the best… What time is it now?"
Khadija said, "It’s an hour till the noon call to prayer".
The lateness of the hour prompted her to lower her eyes thoughtfully. When she raised them again, her anxiety was reflected in her look. She murmured, "He may be on his way home now…"
They understood what she meant. Although they could feel fear creeping through their hearts, Aisha said confidently, "He’s most welcome. There’s no reason to be anxious. We've agreed on what has to be said, and that ends the matter".
All the same, his impending arrival spread anxiety through Amina’s feeble soul. She asked, "Do you think it will be possible to conceal what happened?"
In a voice that became noticeably sharper as her anxiety increased, Khadija answered, "Why not? We'll tell him what we agreed on, and the matter will pass peacefully".
Their mother wished that Yasin and Fahmy could have stayed by her side at that hour to give her courage. Khadija had said, "We'll tell him what we agreed on, and the matter will pass peacefully," but could what had happened remained a closed secret forever? Would the truth not find some opening through which it could reach the man? She feared lying just as much as she feared the truth. She did not know what destiny lay in wait for her. She looked affectionately at one girl and then the other. She had opened her mouth to speak when Umm Hanafi rushed in. She whispered, as though afraid someone outside the room might hear, "My master has come, my lady".
Their hearts beat wildly. The girls got off the bed in a single bound. They stood facing their mother. They all exchanged glances silently. Then the mother mumbled, "Don't you two say anything. I'm afraid of what might happen to you if you deceive him. Leave the talking to me, may God provide assistance".
A tense silence reigned like that of children in the dark who hear footsteps they think are those of jinn prowling around outside. Then they could hear al-Sayyid Ahmad’s footsteps coming up the stairs. As they drew nearer, the mother struggled to break the nightmare silence. She mumbled, "Should we let him climb up to his room and not find anyone?"
She turned to Umm Hanafi and said, "Tell him I'm here, sick. Don't say anything more".
She swallowed to wet her dry throat. The two girls shot out of the room, each trying to escape first. They left her alone. Finding herself cut off from the entire world, she resigned herself to her destiny. Frequently this resignation on her part, since she was deprived of any weapon, seemed a passive kind of courage. She collected her thoughts in order to remember what she was supposed to say, although her doubt that she was doing the right thing never left her. It hid at the bottom of her emotions and announced its presence whenever she was anxious and tense or her confidence dwindled.
She heard the tip of his stick striking the floor of the sitting room. She mumbled, "Your mercy, Lord, and assistance".
Her eyes watched the doorway until he blocked it with his tall and broad body. She saw him come in and approach her. He gave her a searching look with his wide eyes. When he reached the center of the room he stopped and asked in a voice she imagined was more tender than usual, "What’s the matter with you?"
Lowering her eyes, she said, "Praise to God for your safe return, sir. I'm well so long as you are".
"But Umm Hanafi told me you're sick…"
With her left hand she pointed to her right shoulder and said, "My shoulder has been injured, sir. May God not expose you to any evil".
Examining her shoulder with concern and anxiety, the man asked, "What injured it?"
It was destined to happen. The crucial moment had arrived. She had only to speak, to utter the saving lie. Then the crisis would be safely concluded. She would receive even more than her share of sympathy. She raised her eyes in preparation for it. Then her eyes met his, or, more precisely, were consumed by his. Her heart beat faster, pounding mercilessly. At that moment all the ideas she had collected in her mind evaporated. The determination she had accumulated in her will was dispersed. Her eyes blinked from dismay and consternation. Then she gazed at him with a bewildered expression and said nothing.
Al-Sayyid Ahmad was amazed to see her confusion. He was quick to ask her, "What happened, Amina?"
She did not know what to say. She did not seem to have anything to say, but she was now certain she would not be able to lie. The opportunity had escaped without her knowing how. If she renewed the attempt, the words would come out in a disjointed and damning way. She was like a person who after having walked over a tightrope in a hypnotic trance is asked to repeat the trick in a conscious state. As the seconds passed she felt increasingly nervous and defeated. She was on the brink of despair.
"Why don't you speak?" His tone seemed to suggest he was growing impatient and would soon start shouting angrily. By God, she certainly needed some assistance. What demon had tempted her to go on that ill-omened excursion?
"Strange. Don't you want to speak?"
The silence then was more than she could bear. Driven by despair and defeat, she murmured in a shaking voice, "I have committed a grave error, sir… I was struck by an automobile".
His eyes widened with astonishment. A look of alarm coupled with disbelief could be seen in them. It seemed he had begun to doubt her sanity. The woman could no longer bear to hesitate. She resolved to give a complete confession, no matter what the consequences. She was like a person who risks his life in a dangerous surgical operation to get relief from a painful disease he can no longer endure. Her feeling of the seriousness of her offense and the danger of her confession doubled. Tears welled up in her eyes. In a voice she did not attempt to keep free from sobs, either because she could not help it or because she wanted to make a desperate appeal to his sympathy, she said, "I thought I heard our master al-Husayn calling me to visit him. So I obeyed the call… I went to visit his shrine… On the way home an automobile ran into me… It’s God’s decree, sir. I got up without anyone needing to help me". She spoke this last sentence very distinctly. Then she continued: "At first I didn't feel any pain. So I thought I was fine. I walked on until I reached the house. Here the pain started. They brought me a doctor, who examined my shoulder. He decided it was broken. He promised to return every day until the fracture is healed. I have committed a grave error, sir. I have been punished for it as I deserve… God is forgiving and compassionate".
Al-Sayyid Ahmad listened to her without commenting or moving. He did not turn his eyes away from her. His face revealed nothing of his internal agitation. Meanwhile she bowed her head humbly like a defendant waiting for the verdict to be pronounced. The silence was prolonged and intense. The oppressive atmosphere was shot through with intimations of fearful threats. She was nervous about it and did not know what decree was being worked up or what fate would be allotted her.
Then she heard his strangely calm voice ask, "What did the doctor say?… How serious is the fracture?"
She turned her head toward him in bewilderment. She had been ready for anything except this gracious response. If the situation had not been so terrifying, she would have asked him to repeat it so she could be sure she had heard him correctly. She was overcome by emotion. Two large tears sprang from her eyes. She pressed her lips tightly together to keep from being choked up by weeping. Then she mumbled contritely and humbly, "The doctor said there’s absolutely no reason to worry. May God spare you any evil, sir".
The man s
tood there for a time, struggling with his desire to ask more questions. He got control of himself and then turned to leave the room, saying, "Stay in bed till God heals you".
30
Khadija and Aisha rushed into the room after their father left. They stopped in front of their mother and looked at her inquisitively. Their expression revealed their concern and anxiety. When they noticed that their mother’s eyes were red from crying they were disturbed. Although her heart was fearful and pessimistic, Khadija asked, "Good news, God willing?"
Blinking her eyes nervously, the mother limited herself to replying tersely, "I confessed the truth to him".
"The truth!"
With resignation she said, "I wasn't able to do anything but confess. There was no way the affair could have been kept from him forever. I did the best thing".
Khadija thumped her chest with her hand and cried out, "What an unlucky day for us!"
Aisha was struck dumb. She stared at her mother’s face without uttering a word. The mother smiled with a mixture of pride and embarrassment. Her pale face blushed when she remembered the affection he had showered on her when she had been expecting nothing but his overwhelming anger that would blow her and her future away. Yes, she felt both pride and embarrassment when she started to talk about their father’s sympathy for her in her time of need and how he had forgotten his anger because of the affection and pity that had seized hold of him.
Then Amina murmured in a soft voice that was barely audible, "He was merciful to me, may God prolong his life. He listened silently to my story. Then he asked me what the doctor had said about the seriousness of the fracture and left. He directed me to stay in bed till God would take me by the hand".
The two girls exchanged astonished and incredulous glances. Then their fear quickly left them. They both sighed deeply with relief, and their faces became bright with joy. Khadija shouted, "Don't you see? It’s the blessing of al-Husayn".
Her prediction having come true, Aisha commented proudly, "Everything has its limits, even Papa’s anger. There was no way he could be angry with her once he saw her in this state. Now we know how much she means to him". Then she teased her mother, "What a lucky mother you are! Congratulations to you for the honor and affection shown you".
The blush returned to the mother’s face and she stammered modestly, "May God prolong his life…" She sighed and continued, "Praise to God for this salvation".
She remembered something and turned to Khadija. She told her with concern, "You've got to go to him. He'll certainly need your help".
The girl was nervous and uncomfortable in her father’s presence. She felt she had fallen into a trap. She replied angrily, "Why can't Aisha go?"
Her mother said critically, "You're better able to serve him. Don't waste time, young lady. He may be needing you this very moment".
Khadija knew it would be pointless to protest, since it always was when her mother asked her to undertake a task for which she thought Khadija better suited than her sister. All the same, she was determined to voice her objection as she always did at such times, driven by her fiery temper as well as her aggressive nature that made her tongue its most willing and incisive weapon. She wanted to force her mother to say once more that she was more proficient at this or that than Aisha. That would be an admission from her mother, a warning to her sister, and a consolation for her.
The fact was that if one of these important tasks had been awarded to Aisha instead of her, she would have been even more furious and would have intervened. In her heart she still felt that performing these duties was one of her rights. They set her apart as a woman worthy of her status as second-in-command to her mother in the household. Yet she refused to acknowledge openly that she was exercising one of her rights when she undertook the task. It was, rather, a heavy burden that she accepted only under duress. Thus anyone summoning her to do something would feel uncomfortable about it. If she objected, she would be able to protest with an anger that would provide her some relief. She could make whatever commentary she wished about the situation. Finally, she would be reckoned to be doing the person a favor meriting his thanks.
Therefore as she left the room, she said, "In every crisis you call on Khadija, as though there was no one else at hand. What would you do if I weren't here?"
The moment she left, her pride abandoned her. Its place was taken by terror and agitation. How could she present herself to him? How would she go about serving him? How would he treat her if she stuttered or was slow or made a mistake?
Al-Sayyid Ahmad had removed his street clothes by himself and put on his house shirt. When she stood at the door to ask what he needed, he ordered her to make a cup of coffee. She hastened to fetch it. Then she presented it to him, walking softly with her eyes lowered, feeling shy and afraid. She retreated to the sitting room just outside his door to wait there for any signal from him. Her sense of terror never left her. She wondered how she would be able to continue serving him through all the hours he spent at home, day after day, until the three weeks were over. The matter seemed nerve-racking to her. She perceived for the first time the importance of the niche her mother filled in the household. She prayed for her speedy recovery out of both love for her mother and pity for herself.
Unluckily for her, al-Sayyid Ahmad was of a mind to rest up after the fatigue of his journey and did not go to the store as she hoped. Accordingly, she was obliged to remain in the sitting room like a prisoner. Aisha came up to the top floor and crept silently into the room where her sister was sitting. She came to parade herself before Khadija. She winked at her to ridicule her situation. Then she returned to her mother, leaving her sister boiling with rage. The thing that infuriated Khadija most was for someone to tease her, even though she happily teased everyone else. Khadija regained her freedom, and then just provisionally, only when her father fell asleep. Then she flew to her mother and began to tell her about all the real and imaginary services she had rendered her father. She described to her the signs of affection and appreciation for her services that she had noticed in his eyes. She did not forget to turn on Aisha and rain abuse and reprimands on her for her childish conduct.
She went back to her father when he woke up and served him lunch. After the man finished eating, he sat reading over some papers for a long time. Then he summoned her and asked her to send Yasin and Fahmy to him the moment they got home.
The mother was upset about his request. She was afraid that the man’s soul had some concealed anger trapped inside and that he now wished to find a target for his anger-namely, the two young men.
When Yasin and Fahmy came home and learned what had happened and that their father had ordered them to appear before him, their minds entertained the same thought. They went to his room with fearful forebodings, but the man surprised them by greeting them more calmly than usual. He asked them about the accident, the circumstances surrounding it, and the doctor’s report. They recounted at length what they knew while he listened with interest. Finally he asked, "Were you at home when she went out?"
Although they had expected this question from the outset, when it came after this unexpected and unusual calm, it alarmed them. They feared it was a prelude to change from the harmony they had enjoyed with relief, thinking they were safe. They were unable to speak and chose to remain silent. All the same, al-Sayyid Ahmad did not insist on his question. He seemed to attach little importance to hearing the answer he had guessed in advance. Perhaps he wanted to point out their error, without caring whether they confessed. After that he did nothing but show them the door, allowing them to depart. As they were walking out, they heard him say to himself, "Since God has not provided me with any sons, let Him grant me patience".
Although the incident appeared to have shaken al-Sayyid Ahmad enough that he was altering his conduct to an extent that amazed everyone, it could not dissuade him from enjoying his traditional nightly outing. When evening came he dressed and left his room, diffusing a fragrance of perfume. On his way out he p
assed by his wife’s room to inquire about her. She prayed for him at length, gratefully and thankfully. She did not see anything rude in his going out when she was confined to bed. She may have felt that for him to stop to see her and ask after her was more recognition than she had expected. Indeed, if he refrained from pouring out his anger on her, was that not a boon she had not even dreamt of?
Before their father had left his room, the brothers had asked, "Do you suppose he'll forsake his evening’s entertainment tonight?"
The mother had replied, "Why should he stay home when he’s learned there’s nothing to be worried about?" Privately she might have wished he would complete his kind treatment of her by renouncing his night out, as was appropriate for a husband whose wife had suffered what she had. Since she knew his temperament well, though, she fabricated an excuse for him in advance, so that if he did rush off to his party, as she expected, she could put a pleasant face on her situation. She would justify his departure with the excuse she had already invented and not let it seem to be caused by his indifference.
All the same, Khadija had asked, "How can he bear to be at a party when he sees you in this condition?"
Yasin had answered, "There’s nothing wrong with his doing that once he’s satisfied himself that she’s all right. Men and women don't react to sorrow the same way. There’s no contradiction between a man going out to a party and feeling sad. It may actually be his way of consoling himself so he'll be able to carry on with his difficult life". Yasin was not defending his father so much as his own desire to step out that was beginning to stir deep inside him.
His cunning did not work on Khadija. She asked him, "Could you stand spending the evening in your coffee shop?"
Although he cursed her secretly, he quickly replied, "Of course not. But I'm one thing and Papa’s something else".
Palace Walk tct-1 Page 22
