The Occasional Virgin

by Hanan al-Shaykh

  The rocks are still empty of the three boys and their laughter. Yvonne suggests they accept the eligible landscape architect’s invitation.

  ‘What about our things?’

  ‘We can ask that family to look after them for us.’

  Before Huda has agreed, Yvonne hurries to talk to the family in English and pet their dog – the same one that was barking at Huda earlier that day – and returns with a confident smile. They leave their two baskets with them and take the rocky path until they reach the dead end where the notice by the gate of the villa reads: ‘Strada privata. Divieto di transito.’ When there is no sign of the landscape architect, Huda is disappointed, despite having been afraid she would be forced to swim.

  ‘What’s his name, so we can call him?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Hallo. Hallo,’ calls Yvonne at the top of her voice. Huda kicks her just as the man comes hurrying into view and opens the black wrought-iron gate for them. He shakes them both by the hand and introduces himself as Roberto.

  ‘Do you have a favourite tree; if yes, do you hug it?’ Yvonne asks. ‘And can you choose a tree to be my husband, like they do somewhere in India?’

  Roberto smiles and replies, ‘I’ll show you my work in these gardens,’ and takes them to the point where they should begin their tour.

  ‘When you come back I’ll have finished work, so we can go for a swim.’

  They walk around, feeling their disappointment at his curt reception melt away in the face of a beauty that is beyond words. A fountain, tall palm trees, chinchona trees with smooth bark whose leaves give off a captivating scent of quinine, jacarandas scattering their violet blooms on the ground, mimosas, lemon trees, white poplars, olive trees and others – whose names Huda doesn’t know – that resemble vast umbrellas crowned by pink flowers like cotton wool. There are dwarf palms, more fountains, jasmine, honeysuckle, gardenia. Huda stands before a lily like the one in her neighbours’ garden in Beirut, with white trumpet-like flowers. She moves closer and smells the same smell, thinking Why was I scared of these flowers? then moves away from them and the memories of her father they have evoked. Yvonne calls her. She’s standing transfixed before a pond, where there are ducks swimming, and large fish almost leaping into the air, mouths open, as they jostle one another to catch the red hornets buzzing over the surface of the water like helicopters.

  The landscape architect appears and addresses a question to them, of which all they understand are the words ‘big tree’, then indicates to them that they should follow him as he goes down some steps and turns to his right. They come face to face with a giant olive tree, its roots like huge rocks, like an elephant’s legs, and gasp simultaneously. The architect nods as if expecting this reaction, gesturing to them to follow him again and pointing to roots that have spread out and bored into the wall.

  ‘How old is it?’ asks Huda in English.

  ‘A thousand years old, maybe. Where are you two from? Greece?’

  ‘Lebanon. But we live abroad. Me in London and her in Canada.’

  ‘You must be Christians. You speak English fluently.’

  ‘I’m Muslim and she’s Christian,’ answers Huda.

  ‘If only the guys in ISIS could see you in a swimsuit!’ laughs the architect and they join in his laughter.

  ‘I bet if the guys in ISIS could see her now, their faith would grow even greater and they’d say “God is omnipotent indeed”.’ Yvonne declaims the final phrase in Arabic.

  ‘Yvonne! I don’t believe it. How do you know this saying?’ exclaims Huda in astonishment, also reverting to Arabic.

  ‘Why shouldn’t I? London is an Arab city, and partly Muslim,’ laughs Yvonne, then in English: ‘When I ask the Egyptian doorman at the hotel where I swim each day if he can park my car near the entrance, and not in the garage, he says, “I’ll try, God willing, for only God is omnipotent.”’

  Huda laughs and so does Roberto. Perhaps it will be really easy for him to choose between them now. Will he choose Yvonne, because I’m a Muslim? wonders Huda, surprised to find herself thinking in this way. But what about the Canadian she’d thought she was in love with, until he’d asked her in all seriousness if he had to convert to Islam if he wanted to kiss her? And the woman who came to her flat to measure the windows for new curtains and asked if the glass chandelier that hung at an angle was tilted to face Mecca? And the many who were convinced after 9/11 that she would understand its perpetrators and harbour at least a little admiration for them – those who were extremely diplomatic whenever the subject came up, until they heard Huda criticising them, and extremists in general, declaring that she didn’t really believe in any religion.

  Roberto says that his work in these gardens will be completed within months, as the villa and its surroundings have been donated to the government by the family who owned them and are to be opened to the public.

  ‘As soon as I arrived here, I knew I’d found a hidden treasure, but working on it has made me prematurely grey.’

  He bends his head, showing beautiful black hair with hardly a trace of grey. He must know how attractive he is, Yvonne thinks. She clasps one hand tightly in the other, afraid she will reach out involuntarily to stroke his hair.

  Roberto suddenly takes Huda’s hand in his and begins leading them down to the sea. Then he turns to Yvonne, offering her his other hand, and walks between them, dividing himself equally between the two women. As the sea comes into view, Huda knows Yvonne will capture his heart when he sees her plunging into the water and swimming like a mermaid, when he registers the deep green of her eyes and her blonde hair, smooth as silk, and her desirable, curvaceous body. Roberto asks them if they want to swim and Huda’s tongue unexpectedly saves her: ‘I’ll sit in the shade. This is my first day at the sea.’

  The three of them go down to the beach, which is surprisingly sandy, with not a rock or stone in sight. Yvonne charges into the sea in her usual way, discarding her shorts and T-shirt in a heap. She calls to Huda and Roberto to join her, saying how lovely the water is. Roberto looks at Huda and she doesn’t know if he’s asking her to accompany him or excusing himself. She indicates to him, looking at the sea, that the water is waiting for him and he nods his head understandingly. Roberto catches up with Yvonne. Huda hears their voices, their laughter. Why do people always laugh when they swim together?

  Then, to her surprise, she sees Roberto emerging from the sea. Apparently Yvonne, the mermaid – whom she’d earlier watched pursuing the opposite sex as eagerly as a male dove, diving off the rocks so she could be with three boys much younger than her – wasn’t able to lure him into her cave, a big white coral shell, surrounded by colourful fishes. Roberto tries to shake the water off him without much success, then sits down beside Huda and asks her what her name means. He confesses he has rarely been brave enough to approach a woman as boldly as he’d approached her that morning, and was so keen to get to know her that he’d left a business meeting with the intention of coming down to the sea for a swim, afraid she would leave like a lot of people do, as the swimming isn’t easy in these waters. Voices rise in the air, calling, ‘Yvonne! Yvonne!’ The three boys are back throwing themselves off the rocks on the public beach.

  ‘Yvonne dived off those rocks all morning.’

  ‘I know. I watched you both from time to time. I was worried about your friend. I didn’t realise she was such a good swimmer! And I was worried about you too, when I noticed you standing for so long on the sea walk holding on to the handrail. I had the feeling you were scared you might throw yourself into the sea without meaning to!’

  She looks sad as it strikes her that this stranger seems to know her better than her own family.

  ‘I’ve never been to Canada, nor even America,’ he continues cheerfully, trying to lighten the mood again. ‘How I envy people like you and Yvonne just taking the plane to Florence and then coming here for a day or two.’

  ‘Sometimes I wish I’d never left Lebanon. Maybe it’s better
to be content with staying in one place, since if you leave you can’t escape this feeling of schizophrenia, however balanced a person you are.’

  ‘But you were escaping the war, weren’t you?’

  ‘No. A lot of people stayed. I left Lebanon because I’m a coward. I didn’t have the courage to pursue a career in theatre with my family around.’

  ‘You must be happy. You’re lucky, you’ve seen the world. And I’m very happy to have met you.’

  ‘Same here! Tell me, why do pine trees drop resin? I love the smell of it. We used to chew it when we were kids.’

  Roberto takes her lips in his, which are like two salted almonds.

  Yvonne swims with the three boys, desperately wanting to be alone with Lucio, without the other two, who only smile, laugh and comment on what Lucio is saying to Yvonne. He flirts with Yvonne, as if their presence emboldens him further, and tries to unfasten her bikini top. When he fails, he dives under the water and thrusts his head between her thighs. Yvonne laughs unrestrainedly, thinking his charm is a blessing from on high.

  It is the sea that has generated these boys for her to have fun with, made her feel like flirting. The London cold imposes different sorts of encounters. The men melt away like sugar in a cup of hot tea and she always ends up regretting that she has radiated hope and given herself to them. How should she behave with Lucio, convinced as she is that appearing too keen will make her seem like a lonely old maid? She never knows whether to say yes or no, what to say at all, when to take the initiative.

  Lucio finally manages to unfasten her bikini top, while his two friends stand at a distance like a pair of guardian angels. She lets out a scream, laughing as she catches sight of her breasts like two scoops of vanilla ice cream, then covers them with her hands and asks him to do up her bikini top again.

  ‘Are you engaged or married?’

  ‘Why?’ Her heart beats faster. He must have guessed that I’m over thirty-five from the look of my breasts.

  ‘This ring.’ He bends his head to look at it.

  ‘It’s from Lourdes. You can see if you look carefully. The Virgin Mary on my finger. See her head and feet.’

  ‘I don’t believe it! Have you been to Lourdes? Are you like us?’

  ‘I haven’t been. A friend brought it back for me.’ She doesn’t tell him it brings luck, that she wears it to get a husband. ‘What about you, do you have a steady girlfriend?’

  ‘It depends on the situation. At the moment I’m trying to make you my steady girlfriend.’ He laughs.

  He must have a steady girlfriend. Yvonne reproaches herself for allowing herself to forget that he was just living his normal life before she and Huda descended on the beach, and would continue to do so after today.

  What about her normal life? All she sees in her mind’s eye are offices, hers and those of her employees, and her attempts to meet men, and gather ideas for advertisements.

  One more glance at Lucio and she resolves to be off. How could this body, this being, these two beautiful rows of teeth ever be hers!

  ‘I’ll get sunburnt if I stay any longer. My friend must be waiting for me. I have to go.’

  ‘We were getting ready to leave as well, but we suddenly saw you in the water again. Where were you hiding?’

  She laughs, almost tells him that she looked for him and he wasn’t on the rocks.

  ‘My friend and I went to the big villa. The gardens are like paradise. And we swam from the private beach there.’

  ‘How did you get in? I thought it was still closed to visitors. God, you must be important girls.’

  They all come out of the sea, which continues to rise and fall, restless and calm in turn. She waits for Lucio to ask her something, but he doesn’t. He’s not in a position to invite her to dinner – after all, he’s a student – but what about a coffee? He doesn’t even ask her if she’ll be at the beach tomorrow. He knows the hotel where she’s staying, he says, after correcting her pronunciation of its name, adding that he’s never been inside it.

  She busies herself calling to Huda, who is sitting with Roberto next to the Italian family. Her heart, which has sunk like feet sinking into the sand, extricates itself when she hears Lucio saying, ‘Will I see you tomorrow? Around noon. Promise?’ She nods delightedly and finds herself leaning forward to kiss his cheek, at which he pulls her to him and plants a kiss on her jawbone, close to her neck. She continues walking over to Huda and notices Roberto heading towards the villa, raising a hand in greeting to her from a distance.

  ‘So, it’s been a day in paradise. What’s going on, Huda, you wicked girl!’

  ‘You were watching us, were you? And I watched you with the boys. They looked as if they were going to eat you up.’

  The Italian family walk past, saying their goodbyes to Yvonne and Huda, but the dog stops and rubs his head against Yvonne’s thighs like a cat. She bends down to stroke him, demanding a kiss, and he stands up on his hind legs, encouraged by the mother, who says, ‘Oscar, dalle un bacio,’ so he sticks out his tongue and licks Yvonne’s face.

  ‘That’s disgusting,’ remarks Huda.

  ‘You seem jealous. Do you want the dog to kiss you too?’

  Huda thinks they are about to leave the beach and Yvonne is going to ask her about Roberto, but Yvonne is in no hurry.

  ‘Let’s take our time. I’ve still got a packet of biscuits. Has Roberto gone back to work? Surely he invited you to dinner?’

  ‘He asked me where I was staying and said he’d call me. What about you?’

  ‘They’re broke, those boys, but the one I like, who’s called Lucio and studies medicine in Florence, is sweet and really funny. He’s asked me to meet him tomorrow.’

  ‘You mean we’re coming back here tomorrow?’

  ‘The boys said it’s the best place. Anyway, Roberto will make you come back here whether you want to or not. Maybe he’ll take us inside the villa.’

  They drink water, wishing it was coffee, and devour the whole packet of biscuits. The sun is still there in the sky, but shining from a distance, its rays bestowing a gentler warmth. It’s as if the sea has grown weary for the first time since the morning: its movement is more regular, and it looks like a piece of silk, blue, violet. Seagulls alight on its surface and as soon as they see a fisherman, they all head for him as if pulled along by nylon threads tied around their legs.

  ‘I’m not tired of the sea yet. Let’s go and swim again.’

  ‘OK. Let’s go.’

  Huda gets to her feet, feeling a great sense of relief. The sea has emptied of bathers. Now she can try out anything she likes, so when tomorrow comes and Roberto invites her to the sea, she won’t start to shake, and when darkness falls and she’s with him on the beach, she won’t get scared and try and run away, for the sea at night scares her as if it’s trying to entice her by stretching out silently before her so it can pounce on her like a savage beast.

  She runs to the sea and to her delight Yvonne decides not to go in with her.

  ‘I want to dive from the rocks again.’

  Huda goes into the sea. She resolves to put her head underwater.

  ‘I’ll wash my hair at the hotel and put rollers in and straighten it again,’ she reassures herself, bringing her face nearer and nearer to the surface of the water. As soon as her nose comes into contact with it, the salt enters her throat and her whole face is in pain. She coughs violently, withdrawing her head, but the pain increases and the salt grows saltier. She has to take a deep breath and put her whole head under in one go, as the swimming teacher in Canada tried to show her, in a swimming pool where the overwhelming smell of chlorine paralysed her senses, and she could no longer remember what jasmine or gardenia or popcorn smelt like. She wanted to get out of the pool, tried to explain to the teacher how when she held her breath, it made her see outlandish images, produced by the remotest corners of her brain.

  Now she is making for a semicircle of rocks, like a peninsula, knowing that she will certainly scrape her legs in
the process, but continuing nevertheless, allowing herself to be pushed violently against the rocks by the water. She plants her feet more firmly on the bottom, willing her limbs to be strong. I’m not going to let the water beat me. I’m going to get there. And when I’m there I’ll put my head in the water and hold my breath and float. I’ll swim with my head in the water and won’t care what’s beneath my feet. The water will hold me up. She makes three attempts, not allowing her feet to touch the bottom, but after a few moments one foot goes into spasms and her toes curl up. Still she doesn’t despair, but stands on one foot, rubbing the toes of the cramping foot to restore circulation.

  She tries to swim again, to move forward a little way, even the length of her own arm, but everything in her seizes up suddenly. She returns to the shore, trying to work out what’s wrong with her. Sadness rises like bile in her throat and bewilderment is an octopus extending its tentacles inside her head. What shall I do? repeats Huda to herself. What shall I do? She goes to find Yvonne, unable to bear the water for a moment longer.

  She did not repent and stop going to the sea, in spite of her father’s tears and her mother’s silence, which lasted for months. She discovered from one summer to the next that the sea had many faces: it appeared in the secrecy of the women’s swimming pool, in a private beach attached to a restaurant, or in the suburbs, where there were sandy beaches, stony beaches and big seawater pools for swimming, only a hair’s breadth from the sea, but without the jellyfish that looked like tropical flowers swept into the ocean by the waves and discharged into the Mediterranean.

  The sea has its rites and customs. It requires a variety of swimsuits, not one old one borrowed from a girl in some obscure neighbourhood, but a range of styles and colours. It requires straw hats, slender gold or silver bangles or anklets, creams and oils, supplied by friends and containing tincture of iodine, olive oil, vinegar, lemon juice, a mixture that Huda shook vigorously before applying it to her body and lying in the sun like a fish in a frying pan.