While al-Sayyid Ahmad was recalling all of this, a saying came to his mind: “When your son grows up, make him your brother”. Perhaps more than ever before he felt how complicated it is to be a father.
That same week, their mother announced Yasin's engagement at the coffee hour. Fahmy had learned about it from Yasin himself. Khadija instinctively recognized that there was some relationship between the engagement and her father's anger at Yasin. She suspected his anger had arisen from Yasin's desire to get married, going on the analogy of what had happened between her father and Fahmy. She stated her opinion bluntly, but in the form of a question.
Glancing at their mother with shame and embarrassment, Yasin]aughed and said, “The truth is that there's a very strong link between the anger and the engagement.”
In order to make a sarcastic joke, Khadija pretended to be skeptical. She said, “Papa can be excused for getting angry, because you won't do him much credit with a close friend like al-Sayyid Muhammad Iffat.”
Yasin countered her sarcasm: “Father's position will become even more difficult when the aforementioned personage learns the bridegroom has a sister like you.”
Then Kamal asked, “Will you leave us, Yasin, the way Aisha did?”
His mother replied with a smile, “Of course not. A new sister, the bride, will join our household.”
Kamal was relieved at this answer, which he had not been expecting. He was relieved because his storyteller was staying to entertain him with stories, anecdotes, and conviviality. But then he asked why Aisha had not stayed with them too.
His mother replied that it was customary for the bride to move to the bridegroom's house and not vice versa. Kamal wondered who had established this custom. He dearly wished it had been the other way round, even if he had had to sacrifice Yasin and his droll stories. He was not able to state this desire openly, and so he expressed it with a look directed at his mother.
Fahmy was the only one saddened by the news. Although he was happy for Yasin, marriage had become a subject that awakened his emotions and stirred up his sorrows, just as talk of victory stirs up the sorrows of a mother who has lost her son in a triumphal battle.
43
THE CARRIAGE set off to take the mother, Khadija and Kamal to Sugar Street. Was Aisha's wedding the harbinger of a new era of freedom? Would they finally be able to see the world from time to time and breathe its fresh air? Amina had not let herself get her hopes up or become too optimistic. The man who had forbidden her to visit her mother, except on rare occasions, was equally capable of preventing her from calling on her daughter. She could not forget that many days had passed since her daughter's wedding. Al-Sayyid Ahmad, Yasin, Fahmy, and even Umm Hanafi had visited Aisha, but he had not given her permission to go, and her courage had not been up to asking. She was wary about reminding him that she had a daughter on Sugar Street whom she needed to see. She remained silent, but the image of her little1 girl never left her mind. When the pain of waiting grew too great to bear, she summoned all her willpower to ask him, “Is my master planning to visit Aisha soon, God willing, so we can be sure she's all right?”
Suspecting that her question was motivated by a hidden desire, al-Sayyid Ahmad got angry at her, but not because he had decided to prevent her visit. It was typical of him in such cases to wish to grant permission as a gift, without a prior request. He did not want her to chink her request had had any influence on him. He assumed she was trying to remind him with this sly question. At an earlier time he had thought about this question apprehensively and had been annoyed to realize that such a visit was unavoidable. So he shouted at her furiously, “Aisha's in her husband's house and doesn't need any of us. Besides, I've visited her, and her brothers have too. Why are you anxious about her?”
In her despair and defeat, her heart sank and her throat felt dry. Al-Sayyid Ahmad had decided to punish her for what he considered hei unforgivable cunning by remaining silent, as though the subject was closed. He ignored her for a long time, although he glanced stealthily at her sorrowful expression. When it was time for him to leave for work, he said tersely and gruffly, “Go visit her tomorrow.”
Her face, which was incapable of hiding any emotion, immediately became radiant with joy. She looked as happy as a child. It did not take long for his anger to return. He shouted at her, “You'll never see her after that, unless her husband allows her to visit us.”
She made no reply to this remark but did not forget a promise she had made to Khadija when they discussed bringing up the topic with him. Hesitantly and apprehensively she asked, “Will my master allow me to take Khadija?”
He shook hishead as though to say, “God's will be done___
God's will be done”. Then he replied sharply, “Of course, of course! Since I've agreed to let my daughter get married, my family's got to join the demimonde parading through the streets. Take her! May our Lord take all of you away.”
Her joy was even more complete than she had thought possible. She paid no attention to the final curse, which she often heard when he was angry or pretending to be angry. She knew it came from his lips and not hisheart, which felt quite the opposite way. He was like a mother cat which appears to be devouring her kittens when she is actually carrying them.
The wish was granted, and the vehicle started on its way to Sugar Street. Kamal seemed happiest of all, for three reasons. He was going to visit Aisha, he was on an excursion with his mother and sister, and he was riding in a carriage. As though he could not keep his joy a secret and wished to announce it to everyone or attract attention to himself sitting in the carriage between his mother and sister, he suddenly stood up and cried out, “Amm Hasanayn, look!” when the vehicle approached the barbershop. The man looked at him. Discovering that Kamal was not alone, he quickly lowered his eyes and smiled. The mother was terribly embarrassed and upset. She grabbed Kamal by the edge of his jacket, so he would not repeat his performance as they passed the other shops, and scolded him for the crazy thing he had done.
The house on Sugar Street appeared to be ancient, a relic. It looked quite different without its decorative wedding lights. The very age and mass of the building and the expensive furnishings all suggested power and prestige. The Shawkats were an old family, although not much was left of their former glory, except their name, especially since the family fortune had been divided up over the years by inheritance. The fact that they shunned modern education had not helped either. The bride had taken up residence on the second floor. Because of her age, Widow Shawkat had difficulty climbing the stairs and moved down to the first floor with her elder son, Ibrahim. The third floor remained vacant. They did not try to use it and refused to rent it out.
When the family entered Aisha's apartment, Kamal wanted to rush off on his own, the way he would at home, in order to scout around until he found his sister all by himself. He looked forward to the pleasure of the surprise and pictured it to himself as he climbed up the stairs, but his mother would not let him escape from her grip, no matter how hard he tried. Before he knew what was happening, the servant had led them to the parlor and left them there alone. Kamal felt they were being treated like strangers or company. He was dejected and depressed and began to repeat with alarm, “Where's Aisha? … Why are we waiting here?”
The only answer he received was “hush” and a warning that he would rot be allowed to visit again if he raised his voice. His pain quickly left him once Aisha came running in, her face beaming with a smile of such brilliance it outshone her magnificent clothes and dazzling finery. Kamal ran to her and put his arms around her neck. He clung to her all the time she was exchanging greetings with hei: mother and sister.
Aisha appeared to be ecstatic about herself, her new life, and her family's visit. She told them about the visits from her father, Yasin, and Fahmy and how her desire to see the rest of the family had conquered her fear of her father. She had been daring enough to ask permission for them to call on her.
She said, “I don't know how m
y tongue obeyed me and let me speak. Perhaps it was his new image that encouraged me. He seemed to be charming, mild-mannered, and smiling. Yes, by God, he was smiling. Even so, I hesitated for a long time. I was afraid he would suddenly revert back to form and scold me. Finally I put my faith in God and spoke.”
Her mother asked her how he had replied. Aisha answered, “He said, in as few words as possible, ‘God willing.’ Then he continued quickly in a serious tone that sounded like a warning: ‘But don't think this is a game. There's a limit to everything.’ My heart pounded and I proceeded to invoke blessings on him for a long time to try to humor and placate him.”
Then she skipped back a little to describe how she had felt when she was told, “The head of your family is in the parlor.”
She said, “I raced to the bathroom and washed my face to get off every trace of powder. Mr. Khalil asked me why I was doing that, but I told him, ‘Believe me, I can't even meet him in this summer dress, because my arms show.’ I didn't go till I wrapped myself in my cashmere shawl.”
Then she said, “When Mother…” She laughed. “I mean my new mother. When she heard about it, because Mr. Khalil told her what happened, she said, know al-Sayyid Ahmad extremely well. He's like that and worse.' Then she turned to me and said, 'Shushu, you should realize that you're no longer part of the Abd al-Jawad family. Now you're one of the Shawkats. So pay no attention to anyone else.'”
Aisha's splendid appearance and her conversation awakened their love and admiration. Kamal gazed at her as he had the night of the wedding and asked contentiously, “Why didn't you look like this when you were at our house?”
She laughed and immediately answered him, “Back then, I wasn't a Shawkat.”
Even Khadija looked at her affectionately. The girl's marriage had eliminated all the reasons for the name-calling that used to break out between them when they were cooped up together. Moreover, only a small trace was left of the resentment Khadija had felt when permission was granted for the younger sister to marry first, since she blamed her misfortune on luck, not her sister. Her heart held nothing but love and longing for her. She missed her frequently, particularly when she needed a companion to confide in.
Then Aisha talked about her new home with the enclosed balcony overlooking Mutawalli Gate, the minarets that shot up into the sky nearby, and the steady flow of traffic. Everything around her reminded her of the old house and the streets and buildings surrounding it. There was no difference except for the names and some secondary features. “And, come to think of it, you don't have anything comparable to the huge gate where you live.”
Then, with a trace of disappointment, she admitted, “Although Mr. Khalil told me the procession of pilgrims setting off for Mecca does not pass by our balcony….”
She continued: “Directly under the balcony there's a spot where three men sit all day long until night comes: a crippled beggar, a vendor of red leather shoes, and a fortune-teller who makes bis predictions by reading patterns in sand. They are my new neighbors. The geomancer is the most successful. Don't ask me about the droves of women and men who squat in front of him to find out what their fortune will be…. How I wish my balcony were a little lower so I could hear what he tells them. The most entertaining sight of all is the Suares omnibus coming from al-Darb al-Ahmar when it meets a wagon of stones on its way from al-Ghuriya. The entrance of the gate is too narrow for both of them, and each of the drivers gets it into hishead to challenge the other and force him to retreat and make way. At first the language is relatively polite, but then it becomes sharp and rude. Their throats bellow out curses and insults. Meanwhile the donkey carts and the handcarts arrive on the scene till the road is choked with them and no one has any idea how to get things back to normal. I stand there at the peephole trying not to laugh as I watch the faces and the sights.”
The courtyard of Aisha's new home was quite similar to theirs, with an oven room and a pantry. Her mother-in-law ruled the courtyard with the help of the maid Suwaydan. “I don't have any work to do. If I even mention the kitchen, a tray of food is brought to me.”
At that, Khadija could not keep from laughing. She commented, “You've finally got what you always wanted.”
Kamal did not find much of interest in this discussion, but its general tone left him with the impression that Aisha was settling here permanently. He was alarmed and asked her, “Aren't you coming back to us?”
The room was filled by a voice answering, “She won't return to you, Mi. Kamal”. It was Khalil Shawkat, who entered the room laughing. He strutted in, his medium-sized body arrayed in a white silk house shirt. He had a full, oval face with white skin. His eyes bulged out slightly, and his lips were full. His large head was topped by a narrow brow and thick black hair parted at the crown. The color and styling of his hair resembled that of al-Sayyid Ahmad. There was a good-humored, languid look in his eyes, possibly the result of his life of rest, relaxation, and fun. He bent over his mother-in-law's hand to kiss it, but she quickly withdrew it in embarrassment and discomfort, stammering her thanks. He greeted Khadija and Kamal and sat down - as Kamal put it later - as though he were one of them. The boy seized the opportunity presented by the bridegroom's conversation with the others to scrutinize his face for a long time. It was a stranger's face that had suddenly appeared in their lives, where it occupied a prominent position that entitled the man to be one of their closest relatives - in fact, Aisha's husband. Whenever Kamal thought of this new relationship, he remembered the loss of Aisha, just as surely as the thought of white brings to mind the color black. He looked at Khalil's face for a long time and repeated to himself Khalil's confident words: “She won't return to you, Mr. Kamal”. Kamal disapproved of Khalil. He found him repulsive and resented him. These sentiments had almost gained control of Kamal when the man rose suddenly, returning shortly with a silver tray with different kinds of sweets. He gave Kamal a fine selection of the very best varieties. Khalil smiled pleasantly at Kamal, even though two of his teeth overlapped each other.
Then Widow Shawkat appeared, leaning on the arm of a man they assumed to be Khalil's older brother, since he looked so much like him. Their assumption was confirmed when the widow introduced him: “My son Ibrahim … don't you know him yet?” She noticed how upset Amina and Khadija were when greeting him and said with a smile, “We've been like a single family for a long time, but some of us are only now seeing each other for the first time … never mind!”
Amina understood that the woman was encouraging her and trying to make it easy for her. She smiled but felt anxious. She wondered whether her husband would consent to have her meet this man when she was not wearing a veil, even if he was as much a new member of the family as Khalil. Should she tell her husband about the encounter or avoid mentioning it in the interests of peace?
Ibrahim and Khalil could have been twins except for the difference in age, for their other differences seemed slight indeed. In fact, but for Ibrahim's short hair and twisted mustache, there would have been nothing to distinguish him from Khalil, even though Ibrahim was in his forties. His youthfulness and general appearance seemed not to have been affected by the passing years. Amina remembered what her husband had told her once about the late Mr. Shawkat, that he “looked twenty years or more younger than he really was”. He had also said that he, “despite his good nature and nobility, was like an animal in never allowing thought to ruffle his serenity”. How strange that Ibrahim looked thirty, even though he had married when young and had had two children by his wife, who had subsequently died along with their children. He had emerged unscathed and unharmed from this grim experience, returning to his mother to live the indolent, calm life of leisure of all the Shawkats.
Khadija amused herself, whenever no one was watching her, by stealing glances at the brothers who resembled each other in amazing ways. Each had a full, oval face and wide protruding eyes. They were both portly and languid. These traits stirred EChadija's sense of irony, and she laughed about them to herself. Sh
e began to store up images in her memory that she could make use of at the coffee hour. Because of her propensity for sarcasm, she was prone to mischief and comedy. She searched carefully for a descriptive and critical epithet she could apply to them, like the ones she gave to her other victims, on a par with their mother's nickname, “the machine gun,” inspired by the way her spit flew when she talked.
Glancing furtively at Ibrahim, Khadija was terrified to find his wide eyes looking at her. Peering out from beneath his thick eyebrows, they were examining her face with interest. She lowered hei eyes in shame and confusion. She asked herself with alarm what he might infer from her look. Then she found herself thinking nervously about her appearance and the impression it would make on him. Would he ridicule her nose the way she had bis corpulence and lassitude? She became engrossed in these anxious thoughts.
Even though he had been reunited with Aisha, Kamal was bored. They were being treated like guests. None of his wishes had been realized, except for the sweetshe had been given. He sidled up to the bride and gestured to her that he wished to be alone with her. She rose and, taking his hand, left the room. She thought he would be satisfied to sit with her in the central living room, but he pulled her into the bedroom and slammed the door behind them. His face beamed and his eyes shone. He looked at her for a long time and then studied the room from corner to corner. He sniffed the new furniture fragrance which blended with a sweet aroma possibly left from the activities of the wedding perfumers. Then he looked at the comfortable bed and the pair of rose-colored cushions lying side by side at the point where the bedspread covered the pillows. He asked her, “What are they?”
The Cairo Trilogy Page 37
