' don't want to abandon our current conversation for one that will only cause headaches. Whatever her doubts are, the important thing is for me to accomplish my goal. The only issue that concerns me is your consent."
"If yo a don't have room at your house, ours is at your disposal."
"Thanks! I have my own house in Palace of Desire Alley, out of this quarter altogether. As far as my father's house goes, I moved out of it some days ago."
She struck her breast with her hand and cried out, "She evicted you!
Laughing, he replied, "Not at all. The matter did not reach that pass. It's just that my choice upset her for reasons from the past connected to my late brother". He gave her a look that suggested they both knew what he was referring to. "Since I could never find a truly convincing way to deal with her objections, I thought it appropriate to prepare a new home for my married life."
Raising her eyebrows and shaking her head somewhat dubiously, she asked, "Why didn't you stay at home until the wedding?"
He laughed to acknowledge his defeat and said, "I preferred to move away for fear the disagreement would become worse."
She commented ironically, "May our Lord resolve the dispute..."
Before finishing, she rose again and went to the window overlooking the alley. She opened the shutter to let in the late-afternoon sunshine, for the door of the balcony no longer admitted sufficient light to illuminate the room. Although he was trying to be cautious, he caught himself, despite his good intentions, gazing stealthily at the precious treasure of her rump, which loomed up like the dome of a shrine as she knelt on the sofa and leaned over the window ledge to fasten back the shutters. The amazing sight he witnessed then made a vivid impression on his soul. His throat felt dry, and he wondered why she had not called the maid to open the window. How could she have permitted this unquestionably suggestive vision to appear before his eyes, which she had so recently caught in a suspicious look? Why and how? How and why? When it came to women, Yasin was perceptive and leery. He was aware of a doubt loitering at the threshold of his consciousness, not wanting to come in and not wanting to disappear. Wary because of the seriousness of the situation, he quickly closed his eyes. Either he was crazy or she… she was. Was there some other possibility? If only someone would extricate him from this dilemma….
She straightened up, put her weight back on the ground, and then turned away from the window to regain her seat. Before she whirled around, he was quick to raise his eyes to the inscription of "In the name of God," in order to pretend to be engrossed in examining it. He did not turn his head toward her until the creaking of the couch informed him that she was seated. Then their eyes met. The crafty, smiling look of her eyes put him on notice th at it was impossible to hide anything from her. She might just as well have told him in so many words, "I saw you!" For a time he felt agitated and confused. Everything seemed a puzzle to him. He was afraid of being unfair to her and of laying himself open to her accusations. He thought the best thing would be to watch his every move, for any slip could precipitate a scandal.
"The weather's still rather warm and humid…". Her voice sounded calm and natural and showed her desire to banish the silence.
He said with relief, "Yes, it certainly is."
He was reassured but in his imagination could still see the vision he had had of her at the window. Against his better judgment, he found himself mulling it over with fascination. He wished he had stumbled across something like that on one of his romantic excursions. If only Maryam had a body like her mother's! Was it not for something like this that the Qur'an said, "Let those who have aspirations compete"? (83:26.)
She assumed that his silence indicated he was brooding over her comment about his disagreement with his stepmother and almost playfully advised him, "Don't trouble your mind about it. There's nothing in the world worth worrying about". Then she waved her hands and head, making her body quiver in a special way, as though she wished to encourage him to spurn his cares.
He smiled obediently and murmured, "That's true."
All the same, he was doing his best to gain control of himself. Yes, something momentous had happened. Although it appeared to be nothing but a movement of her body meant to express her disdain for trivial worries and to encourage him to feel the same v/ay, it was extremely significant, for it was clear evidence of wanton and licentious flirting. This gesture had escaped in a moment of forgetfulness. It interrupted the modest decorum she had observed with him throughout their interview and unintentionally disclosed her true nature. Or was it intentional? He could not decide between the two, but he no longer doubted that he was in the presence of a woman truly worthy of being the mother of a daughter with a past like Maryam's. Nothing could make him change his mind, for this flirtatious, dancing motion was not one a well-behaved woman would ever exhibit. His alarm lasted only for a fleeting moment and was quickly replaced by a sensation of sly and sensuous joy. He began to recall where and when he had seen this gesture before... Zanuba?… Jalila, the night she surprised his father by storming into the men's reception room at the Shawkat residence during Aisha's wedding. Yes, that was it!
It occurred to him that despite her age the mother might be more desirable and delightful than Maryam. Submitting to his natural drives, he told himself that he should test her out and if possible not hold anything back. He felt like laughing at the novelty of the idea. He would be traveling a rugged path he had never taken before, but he had never been one to restrain his passions. Where would this conduct lead him? Would it be possible to give Maryam up for her mother? Certainly not! He had no intention of doing that. But imagine a dog that finds a bone on its way to the kitchen. Would it be ashamed to take the bone? In any case, these were all just thoughts, flights of imagination, and hypotheses. Let him wait and see. They smiled at each other in the silence that once more had come between them. Her smile was apparently that of a host greeting a guest, but his was flavored with whispers of suffocating lust.
"You've brought light to our home, Yasin Effendi."
"Madam, there's no shortage of light in your home. You illuminate the town and everything in it."
She laughed and threw her head back as she said softly, "May God be good to you, Yasin Effendi."
He should have returned to the conversation about his proposal or asked permission to leave, naming a date when they could continue their discussion, but he began to cast peculiar glances at her, some long and some short, without cease. The silence was frightening. His looks conveyed messages that no one with eyes could miss. He had to convey all his thoughts to her through these looks alone to discover her reaction.
"Look before you leap, and down with High Commissioner Allenby. Let her receive my fiery glance and tell me, if she's sincere, what madman could ignore her naughty intentions and assert her innocence. See how she raises and lowers her eyes absentmindedly but at the same time with a suspicious clarity of understanding. You can now say that the floodwaters have reached Aswan and that the sluice gate must be opened. While you're asking for her daughter's hand? After today anyone who doesn't believe in insanity must be insane. At present I desire you more than anything else. 'Apres moi le deluge.' The way you look certainly does nothing to discourage my hopes."
"Do you live alone in the Palace of Desire?"
"Yes.'"
"My heart goes out to you."
It was a phrase that either a devil or an angel might have uttered. Was Maryam listening behind the door?
"You've experienced lonelinesshere in your house. It's unbearable."
"Truly unbearable!"
She suddenly put her hand up to her scarf and jerked it from her head and neck, saying apologetically, "Excuse me. It's hot."
Her head in its orange kerchief and her spotless neck could now be seen. He gazed at her neck for some time with increasing anxiety. Then he looked at the door as though to ask who might be lurking behind it. God help the suitor who came asking for the hand of the daughter and fell into the c
lutches of the mother.
In response to her apology he said, "Make yourself comfortable. You're in your own house. There's no stranger present."
"I wish Maryam were home so I could break the good news to her."
His heart pounded as if directing him to attack. He asked, "Where is she?"
"With friends in al-Darb al-Ahmar."
"Farewell, reason!" he thought. "Your daughter's fiance wants you and you want him. May God be merciful to anyone who thinks well of women. This woman must not have any sense. She's been our neighbor all my life, and I'm only finding out who she is today… a madwoman … a fifty-year-old adolescent."
"When will Miss Maryam return?"
"Late in the afternoon…."
Wickedly he said, "I feel my visit's lasted too long."
"It's not a long visit, for you're at home."
With equal naughtinesshe inquired, "I wonder whether I may hope you'll return my call."
She smiled broadly as though to tell him, "I understand what's behind this invitation". Then she bowed her head with embarrassment, although the theatrics of her gesture did not escape him.
He did not concern himself with that but started to describe the location of his house and of his apartment within that building.
Her head bowed, she smiled silently. Was she not conscious of wronging and injuring her daughter in the clearest possible way?
"When will you honor me with a visit?"
She mumbled as she raised her head, "I don't know what to say."
Confidently and firmly he said, "I'll answer on your behalf. Tomorrow evening. You'll find me waiting for you."
"There are matters we must take into account."
"We'll deal with all of them… at my house."
He rose at once and started to go toward her, but she gestured for him to keep his distance and looked toward the door to caution him.
"Tomorrow evening," she said, as though her only goal was to avert his attack.
83
The house in Palace of Desire Alley came to know Bahija as a persistent visitor. Once darkness spread its veil, the lady draped herself in her wrap and proceeded to al-Gamaliya, heading for the home that had once belonged to Yasin's mother, Haniya. There she found Yasin waiting for her in the only furnished room of the apartment. They never referred to Maryam, except once when Bahija said, "I wasn't able to keep the news of your visit from Maryam, because our maid knows you. But I told her you had mentioned your interest in asking for her hand once the obstacles blocking your way in the family circle were overcome."
He was too astonished by her remark to care to comment and merely expressed his agreement and approval. Together they embarked on a life of sensual gratification. Yasin found the custodian of the treasured rump submissive to his every whim, and he himself was as free from inhibitions as a wild stallion. The hastily and frugally furnished room was not an ideal location for an affair, but Yasin went out of his way to create an attractive atmosphere by providing an ample supply of food and drinks so that their trysts would go well. He assaulted her repeatedly with an appetite that knew no limit or moderation.
Shortly before the first week had run its course Yasin began to feel bored. His lust was once more acting out the same cycle he had experienced before, as the remedy became an ailment. At least it did not come as a surprise to him. From the beginning he had harbored no good intentions whatsoever for that curious relationship and had not expected it to last. He obviously thought this romance in the parlor was no more than a passing fling but found that the woman was becoming attached to him. She wanted him and hoped he would be so satisfied with her that he would abandon the idea of marrying her daughter. He saw no alternative to humoring her, lest he put his pleasure at risk. He believed that time bore the sole responsibility for returning everything to normal.
Matters quickly sorted themselves out, probably faster than he had imagined possible. He had gone along with her, thinking that the novelty of her charms would be enough to sustain her appeal for several weeks or a month, but he must have miscalculated. Although her appearance was seductive, it had caused him to commit the greatest folly of a life littered with them. Her years lay concealed behind that beauty like a fever disguised by rosy cheeks. The pounds and pounds of flesh treasured in layers under the folds of her clothes were, as he put it, not quite as appealing when seen stripped naked, for nothing records the effects of a sad life so graphically as the human body. He even told himself, "Now I understand why women are crazy about clothes."
Considering all this, it was hardly strange that he referred to her as a "plague" once he tired of her attentions or that he should resolve to end their relationship. As his mad infatuation with her mother faded, Maryam regained her previous place in his affections. In fact, she had never lost it but had been overshadowed by this unexpected outbreak of passion like the moon obscured by a fleeting cloud. How amazing! His desire for Maryam was no longer merely a response to his insatiable lust for women, even if that was the dominant factor. His interest in her was also furthered by his longing to start a family, an eventuality he considered both desirable and predestined.
Yasin reluctantly counseled himself to be patient until Bahija returned to her senses, assuming that she would tell him one day, "We've had enough fun. Now go to your bride". But his hopes found no echo in her. She visited him persistently night after night, growing ever more overwhelming and intense. He sensed that as time passed she was beginning to believe he was rightfully hers, as though he had become her property and the pivot around which her life revolved.
She did not think of the affair as a trivial or humorous escapade, and the frivolous, fickle, and reckless character she displayed convinced him that her aberrant behavior with him at their first meeting had not been an isolated phenomenon. Feeling that she was cheap, he scorned her. To his critical eyes her defects were magnified until he was totally disgusted with her. He decided to get rid of her at the first opportunity, although he was eager to avoid any rude conduct that would strew the path to Maryam with obstacles.
One time he said, "Doesn't Maryam ask what has become of me?"
With a reassuring toss of her head, she answered, "She knows perfectly well that your family's opposed."
After some hesitation he said, "I'll tell you frankly that we used to converse occasionally on the roof and that I assured her repeatedly of my determination to marry her, regardless of opposition from any quarter…."
She gave him a piercing look and asked, "What are you trying to say?"
With feigned innocence he replied, "I mean she's heard that assurance from me and knows of my subsequent visit. She needs to be offered some convincing explanation for my disappearance."
With a nonchalance that stunned him, she said, "It won't harm her if you don't…. Not every discussion leads to a marriage proposal., and not every proposal leads to a marriage. She knows all that perfectly well". Then she continued in a low voice: "It won't hurt her to lose you. She's a young woman in her prime. She'll have a suitor tomorrow if not today."
Bahija seemed to be apologizing for her selfishness or else pointing out that it was she, not her daughter, who would be harmed by losing him. Her statement only made him more uneasy and annoyed. If that were not enough, he began to nourish fears about the effects of an affair with a woman twenty years his senior, because of the notion popular at the time that associating with a mature woman would rob a man of his youth. Thus the hours they spent together were charged for him with such tension and circumspection that he detested them.
He was in this state of mind when he ran into Maryam one day on New Street. He went up to her without any hesitation, greeted her, and walked along beside her as though he was one of her relatives. She frowned nervously, but he told her that he had been working to achieve his father's consent, which he finally had won, and that he was preparing his dwelling in Palace of Desire AJley for them. He apologized for the length of his absence, citing his many chores. Then he told her,
"Inform your mother that I'll visit her tomorrow to make arrangements for the wedding."
He went off, happy that he had seized this unexpected opportunity. In his joyful exuberance he was indifferent to Bahija's possible reaction. That evening she arrived at her regular time, but devastated and agitated.
Even before she removed her veil she shouted at him, "You've sold me out, by hook and by crook."
Then she plopped down on the bed and nervously yanked off her veil. She said, "It never occurred to me that you could be so deceitful, but you're a sneaky coward like every other man in the world."
Gently and apologetically Yasin said, "It wasn't the way you imagine. The truth is that I met her by accident."
Scowling, she shouted, "Liar! Liar! By the truth of the One capable of making me see anything desirable in you, do you think I'll ever believe you again after what's happened?" Then she repeated his words in a sarcastic parody: " 'The truth is that I met her by accident.' What kind of accident, buster? Let's suppose it really was an accident. Why did you speak to her in the street in front of all the passersby? Wasn't that the act of a wicked traitor?" Returning to her parody, she said, " 'The truth is that I met her by accident.'"
Somewhat ill at ease, he said, "I suddenly found myself face to face with her. My hand stretched out to greet her. It wasn't possible for me to ignore her after our conversations on the roof…."
Her face pale with rage, she screamed, " 'My hand stretched out to greet her.' A hand doesn't reach out until you extend it. May your hand and you both be struck down. What you're saying is that you stretched your hand out to her to get rid of me."
"I had to greet her. I'm a man with feelings."
"Feelings? Where are they? You traitor and son of a traitor, may you choke on your feelings". After swallowing she continued: "What about your promise to come make all the arrangements for the wedding? Did that slip away from you too like your hand? … Speak, Mr. Sensitivity!"
With extraordinary calm he answered, "Everyone in the neighborhood knows I left my father's home in order to marry your daughter. It was impossible for me to ignore that when talking to her."
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