31
As soon as the call to evening prayers was over, he left and made for Noura’s house. He thanked God that his father hadn’t been at home. He might have assumed Hisham was going to the mosque and accompanied him. Hisham could hardly contain himself, thought it wasn’t yet time for his meeting. He chose a dark corner in an alley opposite the house and waited, smoking nervously. After about half an hour, Abu Muhammad came back from the mosque, went into the house and shut the door behind him. After another quarter of an hour, the door reopened a fraction, the gap so small it could hardly be seen. Hisham stamped out his cigarette and went hesitantly towards the door, taut with nerves. He glanced around cautiously, then pushed at the door and found himself inside. He was struck immediately by Noura’s smell, which reached him through a powerful scent of perfume. She pulled him quickly by the shoulder as she always did, and dragged him to their usual corner under the palm tree. Before they sat down, she threw herself at him and kissed him with a passion and warmth he hadn’t known in her before.
When they separated, he used the dim light available to study her; to see what effect five months had had on her. Had she changed or was she immune to change, like everything else here in Dammam? She seemed more vivacious, and she was plumper. Everything in her that could had become fuller and rounder. Her hair, which she had always worn combed into two long pigtails, was now left to flow freely, falling down over her back and the tops of her thighs. Everything about her spoke of a new maturity; she had become a real woman, capable of arousing every desire. Only one thing about her annoyed him, for a reason he couldn’t understand: she had put lipstick and makeup on her face, and sprayed perfume behind her ears. Noura had changed a lot while he had been away, and Hisham did not like the ways she had changed. Isn’t it strange, he thought, how things we love change when we don’t want them to, while the things we want to change stay the same? This was not the Noura he had kissed for the first time in his room. She was more like Suwayr now – in fact, she was Suwayr. But he didn’t want Suwayr now, he wanted Noura.
When they sat down she threw her head on his breast and kissed every part of his face within reach of her lips. She was murmuring about love and desire, and the days that had vanished from her life while he was away. He said nothing the whole time. Then she pulled away from him, laughing in a whisper, not covering her mouth with her sleeve as she would have done once, but leaving the whites of her small parted teeth to gleam in the darkness.
‘When I saw you today with your new looks,’ she said, ‘I almost threw myself on you and to hell with the consequences. I didn’t know that a moustache could make you so beautiful.’
He smiled at this comment, seized by the urge to flatter her.
‘Beauty is for women,’ he said. ‘Men are just handsome.’
‘Call it what you like … You are beautiful. You are exciting, in fact.’
Again she threw herself at him and kissed him passionately. How you have changed, Noura! he said to himself as her lips continued to rove across his face. Where did you learn how to kiss like this?
‘I wish I could stay with you forever,’ she said breathlessly when their embrace eased for a few seconds.
‘What about Fahd, your fiancé?’ he said, frowning.
For the first time since they had met, the smile disappeared from her face. She bowed her head towards the ground and played with some grass between her fingers.
‘You know, then,’ she said, extremely quietly.
‘Can things like that be hidden?’
There was a short silence. He looked at her as she continued to play with the grass, head bowed.
‘I have to get married,’ she said. ‘I’m almost seventeen now. I can’t wait for you to graduate from university to get married. And even if I wanted to, my father won’t wait for me. There have been several suitors, and if he knew about our relationship, he would kill me.’
She was silent for a moment, then went on, ‘The fact is that Fahd is an excellent young man, kind and gentle, with an excellent job, and he will let me finish my education. I couldn’t have found a better man for a husband – except for you, of course,’ she added, ‘but we can’t get married.’
Her last sentence wounded Hisham terribly; from nowhere, he was overwhelmed by a feeling of insignificance. But she was right in what she said. Noura had really matured; no longer was she Noura the Milkmaid. It was true that her fate really wasn’t in her hands, and even he was not complete master of his own fate. Were he to want to get married, he would not be completely free to choose whomever he wanted. There were customs and practices, people you could marry and people you couldn’t. If he were to rebel against all that, his fate would be total isolation. Not only would he be cut off from all his relations, he would inflict terrible pain on everyone. He didn’t want to hurt anyone, least of all his parents. As he and Noura spoke, he suddenly recalled a conversation from his distant childhood.
He had been almost twelve years old, on a trip one Friday with his parents and some other families to one of the date palm plantations scattered around Dammam. The men were playing cards and discussing the news, hot from Syria and Iraq at the time, and what Nasser would do. The radio never left their side. The women were in another part of the plantation, singing and dancing and laughing, while the children played between the men and the women. Hisham remembered that he had abandoned the other children to play with Mayyada, the daughter of his father’s friend, Hammud al-Shahham. She was about ten and extremely pretty, like one of those expensive dolls he had seen in the luxury shops in Emir Khalid Street in the city of Khubar. She had long, chestnut-coloured hair, honey eyes and pale skin, with touches of red on her cheeks that glowed at the least movement. She had crimson lips and extremely fine features, and two prominent dimples that stood out whenever she laughed or smiled. On the way back to the house, the girl came up by chance in conversation when his mother asked him whether he had enjoyed himself. He mentioned that he’d been playing with Mayyada the whole time. His mother smiled and said, ‘God preserve her, she’ll be a paragon of beauty when she grows up. She’s taken on the best of both her parents – Syrian beauty and the slim build of the Nejdis.’
‘I’ll marry her when I grow up,’ Hisham said, innocently.
At this point his father interjected, saying, ‘No, my son … she’s not one of ours.’ Hisham didn’t understand. ‘What do you mean?’ he asked.
‘There are people you can marry and people you can’t,’ explained his father. ‘Two entirely different sets of people.’
He still didn’t understand. ‘But her father Hammud al-Shahham is one of your best friends, and her mother is one of your dearest acquaintances, Mother.’
‘If only …’ said his father. ‘But these are two different things. Marriage is one thing and friendship quite another.’
Still Hisham didn’t understand. ‘But our relative, Jar Allah al-Abir, married an American girl when he was in America …’
‘To marry an American isn’t the same … That’s one thing, and we’re talking about another.’ But he still didn’t understand. Years later, when he was older and understood most things, it still didn’t make any sense to him.
The fact was that Noura was ‘available’, but he couldn’t and didn’t want to marry him now, and her father couldn’t wait for Hisham’s family to see if Hisham graduated before they asked for her hand. She was quite right, but still he felt an overpowering sense of his own worthlessness.
‘Hisham … Hisham! Where have you gone?’
Noura’s voice brought him back to reality. He turned to her with a smile. ‘Where could I possibly go when you are with me?’ he said. He planted a quick kiss on her lips. ‘It’s late,’ he said, getting up. ‘Time to go.’
‘Incidentally,’ he said, by way of a parting shot. ‘You’re far more beautiful without makeup.’ He made for the front door leaving Noura sitting on the freezing ground, looking at him with astonishment and shivering with cold.
&n
bsp; 32
He headed straight for the bathroom after entering the house, wiped the traces of lipstick from his face, then made for his room, where he lay down on the bed to think. A strange thing, the world … Was this the meeting he had waited for for so long? He felt no happiness; in fact he didn’t feel anything at all. He felt as though all the love that had been motivating him had suddenly disappeared. No … he still loved her, but not in the same way. Something had changed and he couldn’t explain it. She was prettier and more mature now, and he wanted her passionately, just as he wanted Suwayr and Raqiyya and others, but he wouldn’t do with her what he had done with Suwayr and Raqiyya, whatever happened, for she was neither Suwayr nor Raqiyya. Was that because she was engaged? Perhaps. But she couldn’t be blamed for getting engaged, for marriage did not signify love just as love did not necessarily lead to marriage. Love was a feeling and marriage was an arrangement, and they did not necessarily go together. Had he fallen out of love with her? No, he loved her, but in a different way, and now he also desired her. What was the difference between lust and love, and could they come together? He didn’t know. No, he did know. Love was a feeling and lust was a desire. But what was the difference between feeling and desire? He couldn’t go on thinking. He got up and joined his parents in the TV room where Umm Kulthumm was singing, Is love’s sight drunk? Drunk? Drunk like us?
33
The days of the vacation went by in their boring way, exactly the opposite of what he had been expecting. The strange thing was that he missed Riyadh a lot – again something he hadn’t expected while he was there. The friends’ get-togethers were a tedium he could no longer bear. Noura, who had aroused his desire – the Noura he had once feared for because of this desire – did not return. He seemed to be inhaling the putrid smells from the sea for the first time and he loathed them, he found them unbearable. What had happened? Can we only appreciate things when we have lost them? Are they valueless when they are within our grasp? Perhaps, perhaps … Hisham didn’t know.
Very occasionally he would go to the get-togethers, but he would soon leave to hang around al-Hubb Street, eyeing the girls’ plump, swaying buttocks, or Emir Khalid Street in Khubar, where he would follow the small, rounded bottoms of the American girls stuffed into tight trousers. His breath came faster when he saw their bare red thighs thrusting from their tiny shorts, which they wore despite the coldness of the weather. Then he severed his connections with the group entirely. Adnan’s absence encouraged Hisham to stay away as well. Once he called on Adnan but didn’t find him at home. Instead he spent some time with Adnan’s brother Majid, who complained about the ways in which Adnan had changed, wishing he had stayed as he was when he used to paint. He told Hisham that Adnan had burned all his pictures, that he spent hours at the mosque and no longer watched television, and that their father didn’t know what to do in the face of his peculiar behaviour. He’d tried to get to the bottom of the change in his son, but Adnan had replied with unaccustomed anger, ‘We were on the side of the Devil and you didn’t like it. Now we’ve taken God’s side and you still don’t like it. What do you want? Do you forbid one of God’s servants to say “My Lord God”?’ Hisham drank tea with Majid, then left before Adnan came home and never went back again.
Once he found himself in front of the Bank of the Netherlands, where his friends Zaki and Marzuq had worked. He thought of asking for them, but stopped himself at the last moment. Perhaps it was his soul that was afraid and prevented him. He only visited Noura once – at her insistence – after their first encounter. He feared for her in case he lost control of himself. On this occasion, she let him roam over her body at will and do things that she hadn’t previously allowed. At times she seemed ready to give him everything … but at the last moment he wouldn’t let himself cross certain boundaries, despite his overwhelming, burning desire. Deep down, he felt responsible for her, and for transporting her from her world of innocence. He didn’t feel anything like that with Raqiyya. With Suwayr he felt certain pangs within, but he only really struggled with himself over Noura. This was in spite of the voice inside him that advised him to seize the opportunity before somebody else did – but such thoughts filled him with self-loathing. He was unsure of himself. Perhaps he would do it if he were to meet her once more, so he decided to keep away from her completely, which is what he did for the rest of the vacation. She sent him notes under the door or with her sister Badriyya, but he did not respond. The last day of holidays, she sent him a letter imploring him in the name of the love between them to tell her the reason for his reticence but he ignored her plea, counting the hours before he travelled, when he would be relieved of this torment.
34
Riyadh felt different on his return. Even its fine red dust had a special flavour; it was beautiful and evocative, like the white snows of Moscow which the Russian writers have so often praised. But the dust of Riyadh is warmer, and right then it was in fairly short supply. In fact it had almost disappeared, dampened down by the rain before it could blow about. It would return with the first rays of the sun. The sun in Riyadh is scorching, winter and summer alike, yet pleasant in either season. In fact, just now everything about Riyadh seemed pleasant and enjoyable.
The first thing he did the evening he arrived was to pay off his debt to Ahmad. Then he went to his friends’ house. He and Muhaysin agreed to move to their new lodgings the following day. Then Hisham returned to the room in his uncle’s house and gathered together his simple belongings, taking a last furtive look at Suwayr and Alyan’s house. The place was shrouded in darkness; there wasn’t a glimmer of light in the house to suggest that anyone was there … where could they be? The roof was now a swamp of accumulated rainwater. He was tempted to go and knock on the door to see if anyone was in, but he stopped himself – then forgot the subject completely in a wave of enthusiasm for the move to the new house.
The following afternoon, after taking a last lunch with his uncle and cousins, he left with Abd al-Rahman. They hired a taxi, which they loaded with Hisham’s personal possessions, making a detour to Muhaysin’s to pick up his things. Then they all headed to the new place, where they were met by a group of children in the street while furtive eyes followed their every movement from behind closed doors and windows. Though the neighbourhood women were invisible, the young men were acutely conscious of the intensity of their looks.
While they were busy moving their things, one of the neighbours came up to them. The hostility was clear on his thin face eaten away by smallpox. Without even greeting them, he gave them a warning and a piece of advice, very direct and sharp: ‘You should know that the people living here are families … I hope we shall see nothing of you but good, and hear nothing but good, and may the warner be excused, as the saying goes!’ He uttered this last sentence wagging his finger in their faces. Muhaysin approached him with a smile, saying in a friendly tone:
‘God willing, you will see nothing but good. We are family people too, and we also have women we are anxious about.’ The man’s anger subsided, and he walked back to his house, muttering, ‘It will be OK, God willing.’ Then he disappeared behind the small iron door.
They only finished unloading their things and getting them into the house just before the evening prayers. They were eager to perform the sunset prayers in the local mosque, keen that their neighbours in the alley see them worship. Then they went to buy pots and pans and other essentials. Once they were back in their new lodgings, Muhaysin prepared their first pot of tea, which everyone drank with unusual relish.
35
It soon became clear to Hisham how wise he had been in choosing the upper room, for Muhaysin’s friends and acquaintances were more numerous than he had expected. They came almost every day, almost all the time and without any prior warning: at noon, after the afternoon prayers, after sunset, after the evening prayers, and at the end of the evening. This made it almost impossible for Muhaysin to study seriously. Muhaysin discovered that in his heart of hearts he didn’t lik
e studying engineering, but preferred economics or business management. His friends’ presence at every hour of the day provided an excuse not to study the subjects he hated. After a while, he decided to leave the College of Engineering completely. He didn’t think of enrolling at another college, but decided to look for a scholarship in America in any field. Indeed, America became Muhaysin’s new obsession. He was inspired by the stories he heard from his friends and acquaintances who had come back from America, where the people were rich and the world was rich and varied. Muhaysin abandoned everything connected with study and devoted his time to socialising. He started trying to get to know people who could fulfil his dream of going to America.
They had not yet put furniture in the sitting room, so the visitors spent their time in Muhaysin’s room, playing cards and gossiping about politics, sex and religion. Hisham sometimes joined them, but he would come and go as he pleased. That was the advantage of his secluded room; it gave him freedom of choice. The most frequent visitors to the new place were Muhammad and Dais from the old house. In fact, they visited and stayed so much they were almost like lodgers. Once, they suggested moving in with Hisham and Muhaysin, especially as the house was big enough for them all. They also weren’t happy with the pair who had taken the place of Muhaysin and Muhanna in their own house. They were practically strangers, but the high rent had forced them to join up with people they knew nothing about except that they were from the same area. Hisham, however, refused completely, despite being fond of Muhammad and Dais. He wanted to study, however much it cost him, and having more people in the house might prove a distraction. Besides, they were being watched by the neighbours and he didn’t want any trouble. Muhaysin was inclined to accept the proposal but Hisham had made up his mind about it and wouldn’t allow any argument.
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