The driver had gotten out of the car and stood there half blinded by the glare of the accusations leveled at him. He protested, “She suddenly swerved off the sidewalk. I couldn't keep from hitting her. I quickly put on my brakes, so I just grazed her. But for the grace of God I would have run her down.”
One of the men staring at her said, “She's still breathing…. She's just unconscious.”
Seeing a policeman approaching, with the sword he carried on his left side swinging back and forth, the driver began speaking again: “It was only a little bump…. It couldn't have done anything to her…. She's fine … fine, everybody, by God.”
The first man to examine her stood up straight and as though delivering a sermon said, “Get back. Let her have air…. She's opened her eyes. She's all right…fine, praise God”. He spoke with a joy not devoid of pride, as though he was the one who had brought her back to life. Then he turned to Kamal, who was weeping so hysterically that the consolation of the bystanders had been without effect. He patted Kamal on the cheek sympathetically and told him, “That's enough, son…. Your mother's fine…. Look. … Come help me get her to her feet.”
Even so, Kamal did not stop crying until he saw his mother move. He bent toward her and put her left hand on his shoulder. He helped the man lift her up. With great difficulty she was able to stand between them, exhausted and faint. Her wrap had fallen off her and some people helped put it back in place as best they could, wrapping it around her shoulders. Then the pastry merchant, in front of whose store the accident had taken place, brought her a chair. They helped her sit down, and he brought a glass of water. She swallowed some, but half of it spilled down her neck and chest. She wiped off her chest with a reflex motion and groaned. She was breathing with difficulty and looked in bewilderment at the faces staring at her. She asked, “What happened?… What happened? … Oh Lord, why are you crying, Kamal?”
At that point the policeman came forward. He asked her, “Are you injured, lady? Can you walk to the police station?”
The words “police station” came as a blow to her and shook her to the core. She shouted in alarm, “Why should I go to the police station? I'll never go there.”
The policeman replied, “The car hit you and knocked you down. If you're injured, you and the driver must go to the police station to fill out a report.”
Gasping for breath, she protested, “No… certainly not. I won't go…. I'm fine.”
The policeman told her, “Prove it to me. Get up and walk so we can see if you're injured.”
Driven by the alarm that the mention of the police station aroused in her, she got up at once. Surrounded by inquisitive eyes, shs adjusted her wrap and began to walk. Kamal was by her side, brushing away the dust that clung to her. Hoping this painful situation would come to an end, no matter what it cost her, she told the policeman, “I'm fine”. Then she gestured toward the driver and continued: “Let him go…. There's nothing the matter with me”. She was so afraid that she no longer felt faint. The sight of the men staring at her horrified her, especially the policeman, who was in front of the others. She trembled from the impact of these looks directed at her from everywhere. They were a clear challenge and affront to a long life spent in seclusion and concealment from strangers. She imagined she saw the image of al-Sayyid Ahmad rising above all the other men. He seemed to be studying her face with cold, stony eyes, threatening her with more evil than she could bear to imagine.
She lost no time in grabbing the boy's hand and heading off with him toward the Goldsmiths Bazaar. No one tried to stop her. No sooner had they turned the corner and escaped from sight than she moaned. Speaking to Kamal as though addressing herself, she said, “My Lord, how did this happen? What have] seen, Kamal? It was like a terrifying dream. I imagined I was falling in to a dark pit from high up. The earth was revolving under my feet. Then I didn't know anything at all until I opened my eyes on that frightening scene. My Lord… did he really want to take me to the police station? O Gracious One, O Lord… my Savior, my Lord. How soon will we reach home? You cried a lot, Kamal. May you never lose your eyes. Dry your eyes with this handkerchief. You can wash your face at home…. Oh.”
She stopped when they were almost at the end of the Goldsmiths Bazaar. She rested her hand on the boy's shoulder. Her face was contorted.
Kamal looked up with alarm and asked her, “What's the matter?”
She closed her eyes and said in a weak voice, “I'm tired, very tired. My feet can barely support me. Get the first vehicle you can find, Kamal.”
Kamal looked around. All he could see was a donkey cart standing by the doorway of the ancient hospital of Qala'un. He summoned the driver, who quickly brought the cart to them. Leaning on Kamal's shoulder, the mother made her way to it. She clambered on board with hishelp, supporting herself on the driver's shoulder. He held steady until she was seated cross-legged in the cart. She sighed from her extreme exhaustion and Kamal sat down beside her. Then the driver leaped onto the front of the cart and prodded the donkey with the handle of his whip. The donkey walked off slowly, with the cart swaying and clattering behind him.
The woman moaned. She complained, “My pain's severe. The bones of my shoulder must be smashed”. Meanwhile Kamal watched her with alarm and anxiety.
The vehicle passed by al-Sayyid Ahmad's store without either of them paying any attention. Kamal watched the road ahead until he saw the latticed balconies of their house. All he could remember of the happy expedition was its miserable conclusion.
28
WHEN UMM HANAFI opened the door she was startled to see her mis tress sitting cross-legged on a donkey cart. Her first thought was that Mrs. Amina had decided to conclude her excursion with a cart ride just for the fun of it. So she smiled but only briefly, for she saw that Kamal's eyes were red from crying. She looked back at her mistress with alarm. This time she was able to fathom the exhaustion and pain the lady was suffering. She moaned and rushed to the cart, crying out, “My lady, what's the matter? May evil stay far away from you.”
The driver replied, “God willing, it's nothing serious. Help me get her down.”
Umiri Hanafi grasped the woman in her arms and carried her inside. Kamal followed them, sad and dejected. Khadija and Aisha had left the kitchen to wait for them in the courtyard, thinking about some joke they could make when the two returned from their excursion. They were terribly surprised when Umm Hanafi appeared, struggling to carry their mother in from the outer hall. They both screamed and ran to her. Terrified, they were shouting, “Mother… Mother… what's wrong?”
They all helped carry her. At the same time Khadija kept asking Kamal what had happened. Finally the boy was forced to mutter with profound fear, “A car!” A car!
The two girls shouted it together, repeating the word, which sounded incredibly alarming to them. Khadija wailed and screamed, “What terrible news!… May evil stay far away from you, Mother.”
Aisha could not speak. She burst into tears. Their mother was not unconscious but extremely weak. Despite her fatigue she whispered to calm them, “I'm all right. No harm's done. I'm just tired.”
The clamor reached Yasin and Fahmy. They came to the head of the snairs and looked down over the railing. Alarmed, they immediately hurried down, asking what had happened. From fear of repeating the dreadful word, Khadija gestured to Kamal to answer for himself. The two young men went over to the boy, who once again muttered sadly and anxiously, “A car!”
Then he started sobbing. The young men turned away from him, postponing for a time the questions that were troubling them. Together they carried the mother to the girls' room and sat her down on the sofa. Then Fahmy asked her anxiously and fearfully, “Tell me what's the matter, Mother. I want to know everything.”
She leaned her head back and did not say anything while she tried to catch her breath. Meanwhile Khadija, Aisha, Umm Hanafi, and Kamal were weeping so loudly that they got on Fahmy's nerves. He scolded them till they stopped. Then he caught hold of K
amal to ask, “How did the accident come about? What did the people there do to the driver? Did they take you to the police station?” Without any hesitation Kamal answered his questions in full, giving most of the details.
The mother followed the conversation, despite her feeble condition. When the boy finished, she summoned all the strength she had and said, “I'm fine, Fahmy. Don't alarm yourself. They wanted me to go to the police station, but I refused. Then I came along as far as the end of the Goldsmiths Bazaar, where my strength suddenly gave out. Don't be upset. I'll get my strength back with a little rest.”
In addition to his alarm over the accident Yasin was extremely upset, since he was responsible for suggesting what they would later term the ill-omened excursion. He said they should get a doctor. Without waiting to hear what anyone else thought of his idea, he left the room to carry it out. The mother shuddered at the mention of the doctor just as she had earlier at the reference to the police station. She asked Fahmy to catch his brother and dissuade him from going. She asserted that she would recover without any need for a doctor, but her son refused to give in to her request. He explained to her the need for one.
Meanwhile the two girls assisted each other in removing the wrap. Umm Hanafi brought a glass of water. Then they all crowded around her, anxiously examining her pale face and asking over and over how she felt. So far as she was able, she pretended to be calm. When the pain got bad, the most she said was: “There's a slight pa] n in my right shoulder”. Then she added, “But there's no need for a doctor”. The truth was that she did not like the idea of sending for a doctor. She had never had a doctor before, not merely because her health had been good but also because she had always succeeded in treating whatever ailed her with her own special medicine. She did not believe in modern medicine and associated it with major catastrophes and serious events. Furthermore, she felt that summoning a doctor would have the effect of highligh ling a matter she wanted to hush up and conceal before her husband returned. She did her best to explain her fears to her children, but at that delicate moment they were only concerned about her well-being.
Yasin was not gone more than a quarter of an hour, since the doctor's clinic was in Bayt al-Qadi Square. He returned ahead of the doctor, whom he took to his mother the moment he arrived. They emptied the room of everyone except Yasin and Fahmy. The doctor asked the mother where she hurt and she pointed to her right shoulder. Her throat was dry with fear, but she swallowed and said, “I feel pain here.”
Guided by what she said and what Yasin had told him before in general terms, he set about examining her. The examination seemed to take a long time, both to the young men waiting inside and to the women with throbbing hearts who were listening from the other side of the door. The doctor turned from his patient to Yasin and said, “There's a fracture of the right collarbone. That's all there is to it.”
The word “fracture” caused dismay both inside and outside the room. They were all astonished that he had said, “That's all there is to it”. It sounded as though there was something about a fracture that made it bearable. All the same, they found the phrase and the tone in which it was delivered reassuring. Torn between fear and hope, Fahmy asked, “Is that serious?”
“Not at all. I'll move the bone back where it belongs and fix it there, but she'll have to sleep a few nights sitting up with her back supported by a pillow. It'll be hard for her to sleep on her back or side. The fracture will set within two or three weeks at the most. There's no cause for alarm at all… Now let me get to work.”
They all breathed a sigh of relief after having been worried sick, especially those outside the door. Khadija murmured, “May the blessing of our master al-Husayn rest with her. The only reason she went out was to visit him.”
Kamal asked in astonishment, as though her words had reminded him of something important he had forgotten for too long, “How could this accident happen after she was blessed with a visit to our master al-Husayn?”
Umm Hanafi replied with great simplicity, “Who knows what might have befallen her, we take refuge in God, had she not been blessed by visiting her master and ours?”
Aisha had not recovered from the shock. All the talk was getting on her nerves. She cried out fervently, “Oh, my Lord, when will everything be over, as though it had never happened?”
With sorrow and regret Khadija spoke again: “What was she doing in al-Ghuriya? If she had returned home directly, immediately after the visit, nothing would have happened to her.”
Kamal'sheart pounded with fear and alarm. In his eyes his offense appeared an abominable crime. Even so, he tried to evade their suspicions. In a disapproving tone he said, “She wanted to walk along the road and I tried in vain to talk her out of it.”
Khadija gave him an accusing look. She started to reply, but she stopped out of sympathy and concern for his pale face. She told herself, “We've got enough troubles for the time being.”
The door opened and the doctor left the room. He told the two young men, who followed him, “I'll have to see her every day until the fracture sets, but as I told you, there's absolutely no cause for alarm.”
They all rushed into the room. They saw their mother sitting on the bed with her back supported by a pillow folded behind her. The only difference was a bulge in her dress over her right shoulder that betrayed the existence of a bandage beneath it. They rushed over to her and called out, “Praise to God.”
When the doctor had been treating her fracture, the pain had been intense. She had moaned continually. Had it not been for her natural reserve, she would have screamed aloud. The pain was gone now, or so it appeared. She felt relatively comfortable and peaceful. The diminution of her sharp pain, though, allowed her mind to resume its energetic activity and she was able to think about the situation from different points of view. She was soon consumed by fear. With her eyes wandering back and forth between them she asked, “What can I say to your father when he returns?”
This question, like a protruding boulder blocking the safe passage of a ship, mockingly challenged the wisps of reassurance they had grasped. It did not take their minds by surprise. It had perhaps insinuated itself into the crowd of painful emotions their hearts had harbored since they were first confronted by the news, but it had been lost sight of in the confusion. Consideration of it bad been postponed for a time. Now it had returned to occupy the place of honor in their souls. They found no alternative to confronting it. They considered it to be more threatening to them and their mother than the fracture from which she would soon recover. When her question was greeted by silence, the mother felt isolated, like a guilty person whose comrades desert him when an accusation is lodged against him. She complained softly, “He'll certainly learn about the accident. Moreover, he'll discover I went outside, because that's what led up to it.”
Although Umm Hanafi was no less worried than the family members and understood the seriousness of the situation just as well as the others, she still wanted to say something reassuring to lighten i;he atmosphere. She also felt it her duty as a longtime and devoted servant of the family not to keep quiet when calamity struck. She was afraid they might think she did not care. Even though she was well aware that her words were remote from reality, she observed, “When my master learns what happened to you, he'll have to overlook your mistake and praise God for your safe recovery.”
Her comment was received with the neglect it deserved from people who could see the reality of the situation quite clearly. All the same, Kamal believed it. As though completing Umm Hanafi's statement, Kamal said enthusiastically, “Especially if we tell him we only went out to visit our master al-Husayn.”
The woman looked back and forth from Yasin to Fahmy with her half-closed eyes, and asked, “What can I say to him?”
Yasin, who was overwhelmed by the weight of his responsibility, said, “What demon led me astray so that I advised you to go out? A word slipped from my tongue. I wish it never had. But the fates wanted to cast us into this painful
predicament. Even so, I assure you that we'll think of something to tell him. In any case, you shouldn't trouble your mind about what might happen. Leave the matter to God. The pains and fears you've endured today are enough for you now.”
Yasin spoke with intensity and affection. He was pouring out his indignation against himself and his affection for their mother. He was commiserating with her situation. Although his words did not help or hinder anything, they provided some relief for his oppressive feeling of anguish. At the same time he was probably expressing what was going through the minds of those standing there with him. He spared them from having to express it themselves.
He had learned from experience that sometimes the best way to defend one's actions is to attack them. A confession of guilt would promote goodwill as much as an attempt to defend himself would have aroused anger. What he had most to fear was that Khadija would seize this golden opportunity to attack him openly about his responsibility for the consequences of his advice. She could use it to assail him. He had anticipated her plan and pulled the rug out from under her.
He was right about his hunch, for Khadija was just about to demand that he, as the person with primary responsibility for what had happened, should find them some solution. After he had made his little speech, she was ashamed to attack him, especially since she did not usually assail him in anger but only when they were bickering. Thus Yasin's situation was slightly improved, but the overall situation remained bad. Nothing improved it, until Khadija volunteered, “Why don't we claim she fell on the stairs?”
Her mother looked at her with a face that yearned for salvation by any means. She looked at Fahmy and Yasin too. There was a glimmer of hope showing in her eyes. All the same, Fahmy asked anxiously, “What about the doctor? He'll be checking on her day after day. Father will certainly bump into him.”
Yasin refused to close the door through which a breath of hope had slipped to hint he might be rescued from his pains and fears. He said, “We can reach an agreement with the doctor about what Father should be told.”
The Cairo Trilogy Page 23