Seized by confusion, as his color drained, Yasin said, “It was impossible for me to overlook that, but theirs was an imaginary relationship with no foundation. I know for certain that my late brother was interested in her for only a few days and then forgot all about the affair. I'm almost positive he later felt relieved his efforts had failed, once he became convinced that, contrary to what he had imagined, the girl was not interested in him.”
Was Yasin telling the truth or defending himself? His late brother had confided in him. Yasin was possibly the only person who could rightfully claim special knowledge about Fahmy's personal affairs. If only he was sincere! Yes, if only he was telling the truth, then al-Sayyid Ahmad would be delivered from a torment: that kept him awake whenever he recalled it. He was afraid he had stood in the way of his deceased son's happiness. He often worried that his son had died brokenhearted or angry at his tyranny and obstinacy. These ideas had long gnawed at hisheart. Did Yasin wish to relieve him ofthat?
With a sorrow deeper than Yasin could have imagined, he asked his son, “Are you really sure of what you're saying? Did he admit that to you?”
For only the second time in his life Yasin observed his father wilt. The first time had been the day Fahmy was killed. Al-Sayyid Ahmad entreated his son, “Tell me the whole truth without any sugarcoating. This matter interests me more than you can imagine”. He was about to admit his pain but held the confession back, even though it was on the tip of his tongue. “The whole truth, Yasin!”
With no hesitation, the young man replied, “I'm certain of what I say. He told me himself. I heard it with my own ears. There's absolutely no doubt about it.”
In other circumstances, this statement, or even a more eloquent one, would not have sufficed to convince him that Yasin was telling the truth. But he was eager to believe his son. Thushe accepted Yasin's words and believed them. Hisheart was filled with deep gratitude and a pervasive feeling of peace. At that moment at least, the question of Yasin's marriage no longer troubled him. He was silent for a time, enjoying the tranquillity that overflowed hisheart.
Only slowly and gradually did his attention return to his predicament. After being blinded by emotion he could once more see Yasin clearly. Al-Sayyid Ahmad began thinking about Maryam, her mother, Yasin's marriage proposal, his own duty, and what he could and could not say. Then he told his son, “Whether or not that's true, I would like you to treat this question with deep thought and circumspection. Don't be in too great a hurry. Allow yourself time to consider and reflect. It's a question of your future, reputation, and happiness. I'm ready to choose another bride for you, if you promise me as a man of honor that you won't make me regret intervening on your behalf. So? What do you think?”
Yasin was silent as he thought it over. He was discouraged by the conversation's awkward turn, for it was fraught with embarrassing complications. His father was speaking with amazing self-restraint, but his anxiety and dissatisfaction were apparent. If Yasin insisted on having his way, the discussion could well create a lamentable split between them. But should he retreat in order to avoid this eventuality? Certainly not! He was no longer a child. He would marry any woman he wanted. If only God would help him retain the affection of his father. Yasin said, “I don't want to impose another burden on you. Thank you, Papa. All I hope for is your consent and approval.”
Al-Sayyid Ahmad waved his hand impatiently. Rather sharply he said, “You refuse to open your eyes to the wisdom of my advice.”
Yasin begged him warmly, “Don't get angry, Papa. Swear to God you won't get angry. Your approval's a boon I can't bear to be denied. Let me try my luck. Pray I'll be successful.”
Ahmad Abd al-Jawad realized that he would have to accept the situation but did so mournfully and despondently. Perhaps Mar-yam was an honorable girl who would be a good wife, despite her mother's wildness. But it was beyond doubt that Yasin had not succeeded in choosing the most suitable bride or the finest family.
The matter was in God's hands. He could no longer simply dictate as he saw fit, without fear of rejection. Yasin was a responsible adult. Any attempt to impose his ideas on his son would only make Yasin rebel. Al-Sayyid Ahmad would just have to give in and ask God that it would end well.
He advised and cautioned his son, while Yasin responded with affectionate apologies, until there was nothing more for either of them to say.
Yasin left the shop convinced that he had obtained his father's consent and approval, but he knew the most serious obstacle awaited him at home. He also knew he would be moving. Merely thinking of adding Mary am to that household would be a form of insanity. He hoped to leave peacefully without causing any hard feelings or resentment. It was not easy for him to ignore the wishes of his stepmother or to appear ungrateful for her affection and care. He had never imagined that fate would force him to adopt this strange attitude toward home and family, but the situation was complicated and his options limited. His only viable alternative was marriage. Amazingly, he had grasped intuitively the feminine strategy working to entrap him. It was an ancient one that could be summarized in two words: seduction and evasion. But desire for the girl had gotten into his blood and had to be satisfied by any means available, even matrimony. It was equally astonishing that although he knew as much of Maryam's history as the others in his family - except, naturally, his father this knowledge did not restrain or discourage him, for he was dominated by lust.
He told himself, “I won't worry about what's over and done with. I wasn't responsible for it. She'll begin a new life with me. That's when my responsibilities commence. I have unlimited confidence in myself. If my hopes turn out to be groundless, I'll cast her away like a worn-out shoe.”
His decision had not been based on careful thought. What thinking he had done had been to justify his wild and unruly passions. He was accepting marriage this time as a substitute for the affair he had been denied. This did not mean that he harbored any antipathy to marriage or that he was using it only as a temporary expedient to attain his goal, for his soul, despite its restlessness, longed for wedded life and a stable home.
These ideas passed through his mind when he took his place beside Kamal at the coffee hour, that gathering he was presumably attending for the last time. With great regret he cast his eyes around the room with it sofas, colored mats, and large lantern hanging from the ceiling. As usual Amina was seated with her legs folded under her on the sofa between the doors to al-Sayyid Ahmad's bedroom and the dining room. Despite the heat, she was bent over the brazier, preparing the coffee. Her white scarf came down over her lavender housedress, which revealed how thin she had become. She was cloaked in a stillness at times stained by sorrow like seawater that during a momentary calm becomes transparent enough to reveal what is beneath the surface.
Yasin felt sad and uneasy as he prepared to reveal his plan, but there was no alternative. After drinking his coffee, which seemed tasteless, he said, “By God, Mother, there's a question for which I want your advice”. The glance he exchanged with Kamal revealed that the latter already knew what the subject would be and was equally concerned about its possible outcome.
“Good news, son?” Amina asked.
Yasin answered tersely, “I've decided to marry.”
A look of happy interest appeared in her small honey-colored eyes. “That's a fine idea, son,” she commented. “You shouldn't postpone it any longer”. There was an inquisitive look in her eyes, but instead of voicing her question she said, as though trying to induce him to confess if there was any secret about it, “Speak to your father or let me. He'll be able to find you another wife better than the first.”
With more solemnity than his stepmother thought the subject warranted, Yasin replied, “Actually, I have spoken to my father. There's no need for me to impose a new burden on him, for I've selected someone myself. Father has agreed, and I hope I may have your consent as well.”
She blushed with embarrassment and delight at the importance he was attaching to her opinion. T
hen she replied, “May our Lord help you obtain everything good. As soon as you want, set up house on the first floor, which we've abandoned. But who's the fine girl you've decided to take for your wife?”
Yasin exchanged another glance with Kamal. Then with difficulty he said, “A neighbor. Someone you know.”
With her eyebrows contracted in a thoughtful frown, she stared off into space, moving her index finger, as though counting out their neighbors to herself. Then she said, “You perplex me, Yasin. Won't you speak up and set my mind at rest?”
Smiling wanly, he answered, “Our closest neighbors….”
“Who?” The word escaped from her in alarmed denial. She stared ai: his face. With a gloomy expression he lowered hishead and pressed his lips together.
Her voice trembling, she asked once more as she pointed behind her with her thumb, “Them? Impossible! Do you mean what you're saying, Yasin?”
His only response was glum silence. She screamed, “What dreadful news! Those people who gloated over our greatest misfortune?”
He could not keep from crying at her, “I entreat you to swear to God you won't repeat that. It's false, imaginary. If my heart felt for a moment…”
“Naturally, you defend them. But it's a defense that won't deceive anyone. Don't wear yourself out trying to convince me of such an absurdity. My Lord! Why is a catastrophe like this necessary? They're riddled with defects and vices. Is there one good point to justify this outrageous selection? You said you'd obtained your father's consent. The man doesn't know anything about these matters, so you should say you duped him.”
Yasin entreated her, “Calm down. I hate nothing more than making you angry. Calm yourself and let's talk quietly.”
“How can I listen to you when you've given me this harsh slap? Say the matter's nothing more than a sillyjoke. Mary am? The girl's no good. You know that as well as anyone. Have you forgotten her scandalous past? Have you really forgotten that? Do you want to bring that girl into our home?”
Exhaling, as though to rid his breast of its sorrow and turmoil, Yasin said, “That's not at all what I said. Whether we live here or not is unimportant. What's really important to me is for you to examine the question seriously, setting aside your prejudice.”
“What prejudice, fellow? Have I accused her falsely? You say that your father consented. Did you tell him about her scandalous flirtation with the English soldier? My Lord, what's come over children from good families?”
“Calm down. Let's have a quiet conversation. What's the use of all this agitation?”
She shouted at him with a sharpness that would have been totally alien to her in the old days, “I can't be calm about a matter threatening our honor”. In a tearful voice she continued: “And you're insulting the memory of your precious brother.”
Swallowing, Yasin said, “My brother? May God be merciful to him and grant him a spacious abode in paradise. This question doesn't reflect on his memory in any way. Believe me, I know what I'm saying. Don't disturb his repose.”
“I'm not the one disturbing him. You are, since you want that girl. You know it, Yasin. You can't deny it”. With great emotion she added, “Perhaps you wanted her even back then.”
“Mother!”
“I'm no longer sure of anything. How could I be, after this betrayal? Has the world become so small and desolate that the only girl you can find to marry is one who made your brother'sheart bleed? Don't you remember how sad he was when we all heard the story of the English soldier?”
Yasin spread his arms out in supplication, saying, “Let's postpone this conversation to another time. I'll prove to you that when my late brother heeded the call of his Lord there was no trace of emotion left for this girl. As for now, the atmosphere is no longer appropriate for a conversation.”
She shouted angrily at him, “It's inconceivable that there should ever be an appropriate atmosphere for me to hear talk like this. You have no respect for Fahmy's memory!”
“I wish you could imagine how sad your words make me.”
Her wrath reached its ultimate peak as she yelled, “What sadness? You never grieved for your brother! There were strangers who grieved for him more than you did.”
“Mother!”
Kamal attempted to intervene, but his mother silenced him with a gesture of her hand. She cried out, “Don't call me ‘Mother.’ I've been a mother to you, but you never were a son to me or a brother to my son.”
It was impossible for Yasin to stay any longer. He rose sadly and dejectedly, leaving the sitting room for his bedroom. Kamal soon joined him there, no less sad and dejected. He asked his older brother, “Didn't I warn you?”
Frowning, Yasin said, “I won't stay in this house another minute'
With alarm Kamal told him, “You've got to excuse her. You know my mother's changed. Even Father occasionally closes his eyes to her failings. It's just a flash of anger that will soon die down. Don't take her words seriously. That's all I ask.”
Sighing, Yasin said, “I don't hold it against her, Kamal. I won't forget all the happy years because of one bad hour. As you said, she's to be excused. But how can I show her my face morning and evening when this is what she thinks of me?”
After some moments of gloomy silence, Yasin continued: Don't think that Maryam broke our late brother'sheart. Fahmy asked permission to marry her one day and Father refused. Fahmy set the matter aside and finally forgot all about it. How is the girl to be blamed for that? And why am I to blame if I want to marry her, six years after all that happened?”
Kamal said hopefully, “You haven't said anything that's not true, and Mother will quickly accept it. I trust your talk of leaving the house was merely a slip of the tongue….”
Shaking hishead sadly, Yasin said, “I'm the one most distressed by my departure. But I'll leave sooner or later, for it's impossible to move Maryam in here. Don't think of my departure in any light but this. I'll move to my house in Palace of Desire Alley. Fortunately, my mother's apartment is still vacant. I'll stop by to see Father at the store and explain my reasons for leaving, omitting anything that might upset him. I'm not angry. I'm leaving the house most regretfully. I'll miss everyone here, starting with Mother. Don't be sad. The stream will return to its banks shortly. No one: n this family has a vengeful heart, and your mother's is the purest of all.”
He went to the wardrobe, opened it, and began looking at his clothes and belongings. He hesitated a little before executing his decision, Turning toward Kamal, he said, “I'm going to marry this girl. The fates have decreed that for me. God knows, I'm convinced that I'm not betraying Fahmy's memory. You recall, Kamal, how much I loved him. Why shouldn't I? If anyone gets hurt by this marriage, it will be me.”
82
A SERVANT girl led Yasin into the parlor and then disappeared. He was visiting the home of the late Mr. Muhammad Ridwan for the first time ever. Spacious and with a high ceiling, the room was like those in his father's house. Its latticed balcony overlooked Palace Walk, and its two windows opened on the side alley where the door of the house was located. There was a small carpet on the floor. Couches and armchairs were lined up along the walls. The door and windows were hung with gray velvet curtains, which had grown pale with age. In a large black frame on the wall facing the door there was an inscription reading: “In the name of God”. At the center of the wall to the right, above the main sofa, was a portrait of the late Mr. Muhammad Ridwan, showing him in the prime of life. Yasin picked the first couch on his right and sat down. He carefully examined the place until his eyes came to rest on the face of Mr. Muhammad Ridwan, who appeared to be looking at him with Maryam's eyes. Yasin smiled contentedly and started to flick his ivory fly whisk at nothing in particular.
A problem confronting him since he had first thought of coming to ask for Maryam's hand was the absence of any men in her house and his failure to obtain a female representative from his family. He had come alone, like “a branch cut from the family tree,” as he put it. This embarrass
ed him a little, since he was a man who had absorbed from his milieu a pride in family and kin. All the same, he was confident that Maryam had prepared the way for him with her mother. The mere announcement of his visit would suffice to reveal the reason for it and to create a fine atmosphere for the performance of his mission.
The maid put in another appearance, carrying a coffee tray, which she placed on the table in front of him. As she retreated, she informed him that the senior mistress was on her way. He wondered if the junior mistress knew of his visit. What impact would it have on her delicate soul? He was going to carry her and her beauty off to Palace of Desire Alley, no matter what. Who would have thought that Amina could get so angry? She used to be as meek as an angel. “May God destroy grief!” he thought.
His father had grown angry too when Yasin had confessed at the store that he had left home. But it had been a compassionate anger, revealing how upset and sad he was.
“I wonder if Amina will tell him about Maryam's past. The anger of a bereaved mother is a frightening thing, but Kamal promised to persuade her to keep quiet about it. Back at Palace of Desire Alley you encountered the first happy surprise of this stormy affair… the death of your late mother's former lover, the fruit seller. His place has been taken by a watchmaker. To the grave!
He heard someone at the door clear her throat. As He rose he turned his eyes in that direction. In no time at all he saw Mrs. Bahija. She was making her entrance sideways, since only one panel of the door was open and the space would not have been wide enough for her had she come in straight. Without meaning to, he observed the lines demarcating the divisions of her voluminous body. He could not help but marvel when her hips came into view, for their crest almost reached the middle of her back, while their bottom flowed down over her thighs. They were like inflated balloons.
She advanced toward him with steps slowed by the extraordinary weight of her flesh and flab. Then she extended a soft white hand, which emerged from the sleeve of her loose white dress. She was saying, “Welcome! Welcome! You honor and illumine us.”
The Cairo Trilogy Page 76
