The Cairo House

by Samia Serageldin

  Tamer came and stood beside me. I shivered and rubbed my arms. He took off his coat and put it around my shoulders. I leaned forward on the balcony railing, taking in the lights on the river, the smell of the night air. There is a distinctive quality of light specific to certain places, as artists and photographers have always known. But for me there was a quality to the air, too, especially at night; I thought I would recognize the night air in Cairo always.

  I realized what I missed most in the small town in New Hampshire I have called home for ten years now. I could never feel at home in a landlocked place without a great river or a sea, a waterfront. There was no hub, there was no point of orientation; there was no ‘there’ there.

  ‘It’s strange, it feels as if I’d never gone away.’ I drew the coat closer around me. ‘You know, when I left New Hampshire, it was under two feet of snow. I can’t believe I have to go back in a couple of weeks.’

  ‘Then don’t.’

  I looked up at him quickly. He knew I had not been thinking of the weather.

  ‘I have to.’

  ‘Why? It doesn’t sound like you have much to go back to.’

  ‘But don’t you see? I have to.’

  ‘You’ve made your bed, you have to lie in it? Is it because of what people might say?’

  I shook my head and turned back to the apartment. It was furnished in an eclectic style with Bedouin rugs on the floors and exotic woven fabrics draped across the windows, long plush sofas against the walls and Moorish, tooled-leather camp chairs. The total effect, with the brick red and warm brown tones, the moody lighting, suggested the inside of a Bedouin tent. It couldn’t have been more deliberately different from the Louis-Seize-style, Aubusson, gilt salons with which we had both grown up.

  I fingered the heavy, supple fabric of the draperies. The design was striking, vaguely suggestive of palm trees swaying in a sandstorm, but too stylized to pin down.

  ‘I like this, it’s very original; it feels hand-woven.’

  ‘It is. It was made at my factory in the village.’

  ‘Really? Is that one of the things you export?’

  He explained that it was a sort of side-business: he had built a small factory on a plot of his father’s land near Lake Fayyoum. The local villagers – women, mostly – did the weaving on hand-looms according to his designs and the specifications of the importer. He had a partner in Milan – who I guessed must be his ex-wife – who distributed the fabrics to select interior designers in Europe, to be used for draperies, decorator cushions, rugs, shawls, bed linen.

  ‘Sounds like a great idea.’

  ‘Well, I don’t know if it’s going to be a success, but at least it provides work for the villagers. And I’m glad I was able to start a project that involves exporting from Egypt, rather than importing. Everybody is importing like crazy, no one’s exporting.’ Tamer closed the French doors to the balcony. ‘Shall I put on some music? What are you in the mood for?’

  ‘Anything.’

  Eric Clapton moaned about ‘Layla, you’ve got me on my knees, Layla’.

  ‘What would you like to drink?’

  ‘A liqueur if you have it.’

  ‘Sure.’.

  He moved to the bar at the other end of the room and I followed. It was well stocked. I wondered if he had a lot of flight attendant friends to keep him supplied.

  Drink in hand, I crossed the room and sat down on an overstuffed leather cushion. He came over and crouched beside me. Just then the phone rang.

  Tamer jumped up and answered, pacing behind me, speaking in upbeat but impatient monosyllables. I shifted on the pouf, and was suddenly aware of his eyes on my back.

  He put the phone down and came back.

  ‘Got to go to the office early tomorrow to send a fax to the company in Milan.’

  ‘You sound pretty busy.’

  ‘On top of my own import-export business, and this sideline, there’s my dad’s land to run, and I take care of some business for Nana Zohra too.’

  ‘Have you heard about the offer for the house?’

  ‘Yes, I have. What do you –’ A beeper went off on his watch and he pushed a button to silence it. ‘I didn’t realize it was this late. I call Mother in Lebanon every night before I go to bed. You know about Mother?’

  ‘Yes. I’m so sorry.’

  ‘Lately she’s not been conscious most of the time, but I call anyway to ask the staff how she’s doing. I try to call every night before I turn in, since she took sick, a year ago. But I’m so busy sometimes, I might forget. So I set the beeper on my watch.’

  I wondered if his father had had a similar system to remind himself to call his children when they were little.

  ‘Excuse me a minute.’ Tamer got up and put through a brief phone call to Lebanon. I gathered he spoke to the hospital staff, not to Gina.

  ‘How is she?’ I asked.

  He shook his head. ‘Under morphine. She’s suffering so much, you know.’

  ‘Poor Gina. The last time I saw her was at Papa’s funeral. But I remember her the way she used to be when I was a child.’ She had always seemed so gay and lively then, with that quick, bird-like way about her. ‘And your father – he had the most charming smile of any man I ever met. I remember thinking that, and feeling disloyal to my own Papa!’

  ‘You know, I think my dad never stopped loving her. He wouldn’t speak of her, but he wouldn’t let anyone say a bad word about her in his presence.’

  I remembered the day Gina left for Lebanon, the day she came to our house to say goodbye. I had been fourteen at the time. I had watched from the balcony as she arrived in the Lebanese playboy’s sports car. He had stayed in the car; a gold bracelet on his wrist glinted as he tapped his fingers on the side-view mirror. I remembered the look on Papa’s face as Gina came towards him, arms outstretched. I remembered thinking at the time that I could never bear to disillusion my father that way. Did Gina give a thought that day to the adolescent girl watching from the corner? Do we ever realize what a far-flung web we weave by our actions? But there was no way anyone could have imagined then that Gina’s story would lie like a palimpsest under the dynamics between a man and a woman twenty years later.

  I turned to Tamer.

  ‘Tamer – can I ask you a question? I’ve never been able to ask you this; you were such a porcupine when you were a boy. Did you ever forgive your mother for leaving like that?’

  He grimaced. ‘It’s not a question of forgiveness. Who is it who said, to understand everything is to forgive everything? When I was eleven, I admit I didn’t understand. But when you get older, you accept your parents for what they are. They’re human, they have their own lives to lead, their own happiness to try to seize. You just learn not to count on anyone being around forever, that’s all.’

  ‘Is that why –’ I wondered if that was the reason he had found it so hard to make commitments in his own relationships with women, his short-lived marriages.

  ‘Why what?’

  ‘Never mind.’

  ‘Why what?’

  ‘Why you never had any children, in either of your two marriages?’

  ‘Maybe. Maybe I couldn’t guarantee that I would be around forever.’

  I bit my lip. I hadn’t been around forever for Tarek either.

  Tamer put down his glass. ‘Now it’s my turn. I’ve wanted to ask you something for a long time too. Your marriage to Yussef. There was no connection between you at all; I remember that day in Alexandria.’ He looked at me. ‘Why did you agree to marry him, Gigi? I’ve always wondered that.’

  No one had asked me that question before. Over the years, I had asked it of myself. But I had no real answer. I had lost the key to the thoughts and emotions of the girl of eighteen walking her dog on the beach at Agami. Except perhaps that she was tired of waiting for life to begin. I thought of that day, so long ago now, of the two adolescents licking their granita ices by the sea wall in Alexandria: a girl who had learned to be unquestioning and accepting
in order to spare the adults who thought they were shielding her, and a boy who had learned not to count on anyone being around forever. They were long gone. But now, for the first time, when Tamer asked me that question, I had an answer.

  ‘I married Yussef because I was expected to,’ I finally admitted.

  ‘I guessed that. You always did what you were expected to do.’

  ‘That’s true. Not that anyone put any pressure on me. Papa would never do that. I still miss him, you know. Do you remember the day of Papa’s funeral, you were the first one to come in the morning, and you didn’t even have a black tie to wear?’

  ‘I loved Uncle Shamel. I don’t think I cried over anyone’s death, before or since, except for my own dad.’

  ‘Papa loved you too. He told me once he saw Gina in you – more than in Leila. Leila is more like your father.’ I looked at the vista from the window. ‘You know, Tamer, it was my fault, in a way.’

  ‘What was?’

  ‘I know he had a bad heart, but it wasn’t just that. He seemed to have given up, at the end, to have lost his will to live. I was so wrapped up in my problems with Yussef, I didn’t see it. It was making him sick, the whole ugly situation. He felt so helpless. It killed him.’ I had never admitted that to anyone before. I turned away so he would not see my face twist and the tears running down.

  ‘No, Gigi, it wasn’t anyone’s fault. Hey, come here.’

  He took me by the elbows and drew me down off the leather cushion and onto his lap. I shook my head but he held me tight and I relaxed against him. It felt like coming home. He kissed me on the temple, the cheek, the corner of the mouth, the neck. His hands pressed up and down my back.

  ‘No, Tamer.’

  ‘Okay. Okay. Only listen for a minute, will you? I have something to tell you, only I have to hold your hand while I say it.’

  I drew away and sat back on the cushion, leaving my hand in his.

  ‘Gigi, listen. I think I’ve always been in love with you. When I was twenty I had a crush on you I didn’t know what to do with. When you left for France like that, all of a sudden – I thought my heart was broken. But it started before that. Long before. You were the first girl I ever noticed. Do you remember that dress you had, it was orange, with crisscross straps, and you were twirling round and round in it, and it made the skirt flare up and out?’

  ‘You remember that dress? My apricot sun dress I first wore that day in Agami? I’d forgotten all about it. How can you remember that dress? You were so young!’

  ‘I remember a lot of things.’

  He did. And there, before the window, he made me a gift of his memories, a gift I trusted.

  When he drove me home an hour later, the streets were deserted. The city’s frantic pace seemed to be muted to a hum. It was nearly four o’clock in the morning, the rare dead hour during the month of Ramadan: sohour revelers had gone to bed and the call for dawn prayers would not wake the devout for another hour.

  ‘I’m so late!’ I fretted.

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ll get you home in no time.’

  He drove easily, with one hand on the wheel, his other hand holding mine. I felt my palm tingle. I looked around at the loops of the fantastic Ferris wheel over the black water. He ran the red lights, there was very little traffic and no traffic police. In a few minutes we had crossed this city of twelve million souls.

  Tamer parked in front of the gate to the villa. The dog came padding swiftly to the gate. Recognizing me, he didn’t bark.

  ‘Don’t get out,’ I warned Tamer. I drew my hand out of his. I felt cold, suddenly.

  I managed to unlock the gate without too much trouble but once I slipped inside the dog was all over me, silently jumping onto my shoulders and licking my face. I tried to put the padlock back on the gate but he reared up and planted both paws on my chest, making me drop my handbag and the padlock.

  Tamer stepped out of the car. The dog went ballistic, barking and snarling. Ibrahim came hurrying, winding his turban around his head. I waved Tamer on and he drove away.

  ‘Why didn’t you ring the bell or call me?’ Ibrahim grumbled.

  ‘I told you I’d get in on my own. It’s just this silly dog who had to bark.’

  ‘Was that Tamer Bey’s car?’

  I ignored his curiosity. It was not impertinence on his part; it was his job to keep abreast of goings and comings. He was accountable to the other doorkeepers in the neighborhood for the good name of the household.

  ‘Oh, Ibrahim, there were bits of rubbish around the garbage cans again. Some kind of animal must be getting in there and prying off the lids. Maybe you should put some rat poison in there.’

  He shook his head in his most obtuse Nubian way, and I wasn’t sure whether he had not understood me or whether he disagreed with me. I sighed and went upstairs. I lay down on my bed, too tired and too wound up to sleep.

  18

  Tarek

  I still couldn’t sleep through the night. If it were just jet lag, it would have worn off by now. Sometimes I fell asleep for an hour or two, then I found myself stark awake. I lay there in bed for hours, trying to fall asleep again, or I gave up and turned on the light to read. By dawn, when the city came alive, I finally dropped off to sleep.

  The new moon was officially sighted last night. This morning was the first day of the Feast. I settled down by the phone to call the Pasha and Tante Zohra, promising to come by later and wish them a happy feast in person. Then I got up to dress. The phone rang.

  ‘Mummy?’

  ‘Tarek! Sweetheart, where are you?’

  ‘Just got back from the Red Sea today.’

  ‘Can you come right over? I miss you like crazy!’

  It seemed like hours before Tarek arrived. Finally he was at the door, and I pulled him into the apartment.

  ‘Let me look at you!’

  In the year and a hall since I had last seen Tarek he had grown tremendously, and there were no traces now of the little boy in this six-foot, lanky sixteen-year-old. His dark hair was cropped short, and he was very tan from the beach. There was a fine shadow on his upper lip. I felt my heart turn over.

  I sat him down on the sofa beside me, resisting the impulse to try to pull him onto my knees. His breath smelled of chewing gum, as it always had since he was a little boy.

  ‘So, tell me what you’ve been doing!’

  ‘Well, it was great to have a break at the beach, because I have to work really hard this year; I sit for my baccalaureate exams in June.’

  ‘I know. Have you thought about college yet? You could go to college in the States!’

  ‘In America? I hadn’t thought about that! Anyway let’s see how I do on my exams first.’

  ‘Of course. We’ll talk about it later. Everything all right at home?’ Even before Mama had died, Tarek had divided his time between his father’s home and his grandmother’s. But I knew how much he must miss Mama.

  ‘It’s all right. Papa nags me a bit about studying, but he’s okay. I get along all right with Tante Mervat, she leaves me alone. Would you believe she’s started wearing a scarf over her head, off and on, since she went to Mecca for the pilgrimage last year? She wears it during Ramadan, anyway.’

  ‘Really?’ I had never met Mervat, Yussef’s second wife. They had been married for eight years now, and had a little girl. ‘How old is your little sister now?’

  ‘Zeina’s six. She’s a pest, Zin-Zin, she clings to me like molasses. But she’s cute.’

  I looked at my watch. It was almost two o’clock.

  ‘Listen, sweetheart, let’s call your father, I need to wish him a happy feast, and I also need to talk to him about other things. Isn’t it great that we have the whole day together to do whatever we want? But lunch first. You must be hungry. Where would you like to eat? We could go to the club? I need to renew my membership dues anyway. Or to a proper restaurant? Anywhere at all, you choose.’

  ‘McDonald’s.’

  ‘McDonald’s?’

&nbs
p; ‘Yeah, a new McDonald’s concession just opened in Mohandesseen last week. All my friends went to the opening; they say there was an unbelievable crowd, you couldn’t park for blocks and blocks around. But I was away at the Red Sea, so I haven’t been yet.’

  ‘McDonald’s it is then! Let’s go.’

  The phone rang and I jumped up to grab it; Tarek was asleep in the next room and I didn’t want it to wake him. The ring had warned me that it was a long distance call. It was Luc.

  ‘llo? Gigi? Did I wake you?’

  ‘No, no, it’s only eleven o’clock. But Tarek’s asleep in the next room.’

  ‘So he’s staying with you in the apartment?’

  ‘Well, only tonight, tomorrow he has to go back to his father’s because school starts after tomorrow. But I’ll see him some evenings and next weekend he’ll spend with me.’

  ‘Did you discuss college in the States with him?’

  ‘I brought it up and he seemed open to the idea, but I didn’t want to get into it till I speak to Yussef.’

  ‘When do you see him?’

  ‘Tomorrow evening. I spoke to him on the phone and explained that I needed to talk to him about Tarek. Yussef suggested I join him and his wife and some friends at a restaurant for dinner. We’ll see. So, how are you?’

  ‘Fine. We’ve had some very heavy snowfall so I called the guy with the end loader to come clear it off the driveway and the paths. Janet Glasser called. You’ll never guess what she wanted! Your number in Cairo! She said she’d nominated you to head the refreshments committee for the Faculty Women’s Club, and thought she should check with you so you wouldn’t be mad at her.’

  ‘Oh! Well, then I guess I’m stuck with it. I’m surprised she’d want to call just about that, though. Anyway, did you remember to pay the credit card bills?’

  ‘No, I’m glad you reminded me, I’ll do that tonight. Where are the statements, on your desk?’