“Your daughter! Oh my God!”
Before anyone could stop her, Elham rushed out of the café. Reheimy sat down and in his calm voice said, “Now tell me what it is you want.”
Shaking, Saber sat down. Automatically, he took out the photograph, his birth certificate, and the marriage certificate. The man looked at each document calmly, placed them in a neat pile on the table, and just as calmly tore them to pieces. Saber jumped up and grabbed the man by his jacket, screaming, “You are denying my existence!”
“Get away from me! Don’t ever let me see your face again! You’re a good-for-nothing, just like your mother. I’ve got nothing to do with you!” He pushed him violently; Saber staggered back, fell, and banged his head on the lunch counter.
He woke up in a cold sweat, breathing heavily. He was in his hotel room, naked under the bedclothes. The sun was seeping through the shuttered window. The search; was it a dreamlike hope? A fantasy, as Karima suggested? He would have many more dreams like this one.
* * *
*Karima means “generous.”
Six
Every night the dreams haunt him. He wakes up tired and depressed, a silence continuously surrounding him. A deepening, grave-like silence. Similar to a wave before it rolls and breaks. What then? Another wave follows. His father appears in every dream. But the search is no longer the main aim of his life. Rather, it is the snatched moments of love. Love in the dark, savage, passionate with an animal desire. Darkness brings back the memories of his early youth when he was almost fatally ill.
He had panicked when he met death face-to-face. It was this panic that became his driving force, that drove him to a life of violence; swimming, maybe drowning, in a sea of sin, lust, and pleasure, continuously having to use his fists to defend his mother’s fictitious honor.
He went to the newspaper office and was greeted by Elham’s calm smile. How refreshing she looks. A rock in his stormy sea.
“Any news?” she asked.
“I’ve come to renew the advertisement even though I doubt it will be of much use.”
“Have you thought of any other method?”
He smiled. Little did she know that the search was now of secondary importance in his life.
“We’ve got a surprise for you,” said Tantawi.
He sat down, his curiosity aroused.
“A woman inquired about you.”
“A woman?”
“She asked about the advertisement.”
“Who was she?”
“She didn’t say anything; she just asked about the advertisement.”
“Maybe she knows of him. Reheimy, I mean,” Saber said hopefully.
“Maybe, and maybe…”
“What’s the other maybe?”
“She might know you.”
“Or maybe someone’s playing a trick. It’s happened before,” he said bitterly. Could she be his wife? His widow? Maybe it was Karima, just curious. That woman was a volatile mixture of passions and emotions, cunning and destruction.
Saber and Elham sat at their usual table in the neighboring café. He remembered his strange dream.
“You don’t seem as enthusiastic as before,” she remarked.
If you only knew the real reason! “It’s better this way,” he said, “I must not raise my hopes too high.”
“Yes,” she agreed, “let time be your ally in this search.”
“Please let me buy you lunch, at least once.”
“You are the guest, not I.”
They ate in silence. He noticed a thousand questions going through her mind, mirrored in her eyes. He thought of the previous night. How strange to be two people at the same time, divided between two women, one a raging fire, the other a gentle spring breeze.
“Are you taking a holiday to carry out your search?”
She’s probing now. He felt slightly uncomfortable. “I’m not employed in the real sense of the word. I have private means.”
“Land?”
“My father owns some property.” He could see that she wasn’t convinced. “I run his properties for him. Believe me, that’s harder than holding down any job.” The second lie! How he hated lying to her.
“Well, as long as you’ve got something to do. Idleness is man’s worst enemy.”
“That’s very true. These past two weeks have proved it. But what do you know about idleness?”
“I can imagine it. Anyway, I’ve read about it.”
“You have to try it to really understand it,” he said bitterly.
“That’s true.”
“It’s difficult for someone your age to have experienced enough, at least the way I have.”
“If you think I’m still a child, you’d better think again!”
How delightful she is. I think I love her. He mustered more courage and said, “You know everything about me. Now tell me something about yourself.”
“What do I know about you?”
“You know my name, what I do, why I’m here. And also how fond I am of you.”
She smiled. “Don’t mix fact with fiction!”
That is the only fact, he told himself. A dark cloud hid the sun momentarily and plunged the café in a deep gloom. “Well, I know your name and job,” he said.
“What more do you want to know?”
“When did you start working?”
“Three years ago, when I graduated. I’m still studying, though. Higher studies, you know.”
Thank God, she doesn’t ask about my qualifications. She’s too tactful for that.
“You, er, live in Giza?”
“I live with my mother. Our family is in Qalyoub. My uncle lives in Heliopolis. We also have someone missing from the family.”
“Who?” he asked, surprised.
“My father,” she said, trying to hide a smile.
How incredible. He remembered his dream. Lost fathers are plentiful, it seems. Maybe they’re looking for the same one. “How did you lose your father?”
“Not like your brother. Don’t you think I’m giving away too much?”
He looked at her reproachfully and yet curiously.
“Actually, my parents separated when I was just a baby,” she continued.
“He abandoned you?”
She laughed loudly, making him aware of his mounting curiosity. “I mean, he disappeared?” he added hastily.
“He’s a well-known lawyer in Assiut. Maybe you’ve heard of him. Amr Zayed.”
He immediately relaxed.
“I thought you were going to say Sayed Sayed el-Reheimy!”
“Would you have liked to be my uncle?” she asked, laughing.
“No,” he retorted firmly.
She blushed. “My mother,” she continued, “insisted on keeping me. That suited my father, as he was intent on remarrying. He paid her alimony, and we moved to my grandfather’s house in Cairo. He died, and we now live alone, my mother and I.”
He listened carefully, but nevertheless with some skepticism. He always doubted women and especially mothers. Elham obviously had never heard of his kind of life. Whores, pimps, bastards, and many other choice varieties. Could he give her such details as she had done? Clouds of despair and gloom hung over him. Elham was still talking. “One day my uncle said that I should meet my father. My mother was furious. He doesn’t deserve it, she argued, he never once asked about you. But my uncle insisted, saying that I was growing day by day, and I would definitely need a father.”
He murmured unthinkingly, “Freedom, honor, and peace of mind.”
She shrugged her shoulders and said, “My mother insisted on my not seeing him. I agreed with her point of view, that my job was more important than a father, at least more permanent. She was frightened lest he should decide to take me away from her.”
Oh, just listen to her talk, that delightful child. What job or career could possibly replace freedom, honor, and peace of mind?
“I continued my studies and applied for this job, and now I’m pursuing my
higher studies at night school.”
“Don’t you ever think of your father?” he asked.
“No. To me, he does not exist. That was his choice.”
“Because you don’t need him?”
“No. I don’t need my mother either, but I love her and can’t imagine my world without her.”
You are obviously not on the brink of despair, my girl. You don’t thirst for freedom, honor, and peace of mind. You are not threatened by a tainted past that could become your future overnight.
“I’m happy in my job even though I haven’t got private means like you.” She hit him where it hurt, unintentionally of course. How he wished he could tell her all. But he did not dare. Loneliness enveloped him when she left him to go back to the office. Despite her charm and gentleness, she aroused the animal instincts in him. He imagined her shock and horror at seduction and his ensuing shame and defeat. But to him seduction was a natural instinct, one could even say a hallowed tradition. That was his defense mechanism. To destroy every possible virtue. Elham was a shining beacon in his life but also a threat to his ego. She shook the world he was accustomed to. He could only forget his torture in Karima’s fire. The beacon lighting the other half of his newfound dual life.
He walked out into the nippy November evening and strolled back to the hotel. The newly familiar sight greeted him: Khalil bent over his desk and Mohamed el-Sawi by the door.
He sat in the lounge for about an hour, smoking and scanning the papers.
He got up, went to the telephone, and dialed. “Elham, will you meet me tomorrow in the café?”
“With pleasure. Is anything wrong?”
“No, no, not at all. I want to see you whenever I can.”
Seven
The nights he spends in passion with Karima. The sound of breathing echoes the rhythm and savagery of the jungle. He forgets himself then. Transcends this earth and universe, far above all fears and worries. Karima offers the pleasures and pains of a heavy meal, in contrast to the loneliness left by Elham every time they part.
Karima’s nocturnal visits were uninterrupted since that first night when her gentle knock awakened him from his drunken sleep. Her influence dominating him, leaving no way for escape from these moments of passion. He pretending to be the dominant partner but fooling neither himself nor her. Never had a woman dominated him like this before. And yet he always doubted everything she said.
“I can’t live without you,” she whispered one night as she lay in his arms. How familiar were those words! He’d heard them in all the nightclubs and whorehouses that had been his life in Alexandria. He fought against the tide of her passion and influence. In vain. She was everything to him. Love, the hope that sent him searching for his lost father. On other evenings, she would just lie silent and still, submitting quietly and without much passion or concern. Then he would cry out in his mind for Elham, the fresh breeze to cool him in his hell with Karima. Yet it was a hell he could not live without.
How simple it had been that night on the beach by the fishing boats. You are still stubbornly attached to a memory that has long disappeared without a trace, like the waves. Karima represents not only love but also a magic potion that alleviates the agonies of his fruitless search and the whirlpool of anxieties stirred by Elham.
“You’re not yourself,” he said one night.
“Do you sometimes find me different?” she asked with the naivete of a child. The cunning devil. Had she forgotten her passionate confessions of love for him? He remembered his mother on one occasion. A man had come to “visit” her, and she had thrown him out furiously; then, when he left, she had broken down, hysterically weeping. Such was the way of women.
Casually he said, “I thought you were not feeling well.”
“I’m fine,” she said simply. And he detected a challenge in her voice.
“I’m glad.”
She caressed his cheek, saying softly, “Don’t you see that you mean everything to me?”
Meaningless words. “You are everything to me as well, and more,” he said slyly, “and that explains my sadness at my impending departure.”
“You are talking of leaving?”
“Not talking about it doesn’t mean it won’t happen.”
“We’ll postpone it as long as possible. Unfortunately, the money instinct is strongly ingrained in men.”
“There’s no other solution.”
“He can help when necessary.”
“Is he careful about financial matters?”
“Very. He doesn’t care about money so much as how it’s spent.”
“Is he jealous?”
“Beyond belief. We’ve come to an arrangement about this matter. I must keep to my bargain or I lose everything. But you, what about you? Have you nothing to do but wait for a phone call?”
“A phone call could solve everything.”
“My father never meant much to me.”
“Well, mine means everything.”
“How did you lose him?”
“It’s ancient history. I’ll tell you about it one day.”
“Why doesn’t he contact you?”
That’s the question. The cause of his torture. So many possibilities. What will happen to you if you don’t find him? Disaster, calamity, a life without hope, him, or work.
“How did you manage before?” she asked, interrupting his thoughts.
“I owned thousands, once; now only tens remain.”
“What work did you do?”
“No work.”
“Why don’t you look for work?”
“Any work I do must come through my father. It’s worthless otherwise.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Believe me.”
“Go into business.”
“No capital or experience.”
“A job?”
“No qualifications.” Then, after a pause, he said bitterly, “I’m not fit for any job.”
“Only love,” she whispered, running her fingers through his hair.
He smiled. “I wonder what the future holds in store for us.”
“Matters are complicated, and I can’t depend on my husband.”
“But he’s so old!”
“That’s very true. I think that death has passed him by without taking too much notice of him.”
“Anyway, he’ll live longer than my money will last.”
“And he might smell a rat, and we’d never meet again.”
He pulled her closer to him. “We’ll run away when all hope has gone,” he whispered fiercely.
“I’m ready. But what’ll we do then?”
“Hmm…Even our love is worthless without my father.”
“Be practical and stop dreaming.”
“Does that mean that we must wait?”
“How can we bear waiting? And after we wait, then what?”
“Death.” He sounded ominous.
“I sometimes think that he’ll bury me. He’s as healthy as anything. And me, I’ve got trouble with my liver and kidneys.”
“How ironic.” He laughed bitterly.
“He’s a crafty old devil. At the first suspicion, I’ll stop seeing you.”
“I’ll go mad,” he almost screamed.
“So will I. But what can we do?”
“Waiting is useless, escaping futile, the telephone call, a dream; what’s to be done?”
“Yes. What’s to be done?”
“I think escape is the only way out.”
“Never,” she said breathlessly.
“Then waiting.”
“Not that either,” she said, almost urging him to utter some hidden thought.
“Then what?”
“Oh. Well,” she said resignedly, “if we are unable to do anything, we’d better stop seeing each other.”
He put his hand firmly on her mouth. “I’d rather die,” he said.
“Death,” she sighed. Then, as though speaking to herself, she repeated, “Yes, death.”
>
He felt his heart beating faster, and his heavy breathing was deafening in the ensuing silence. “Why are you silent?”
“I’m tired,” she answered. “Enough questions.”
“But we’re back where we started.”
“Let it be.”
“But there must be a solution,” he almost pleaded.
“What?”
“I’m asking you.”
“And I’m asking you.”
“I was expecting a suggestion from you, a word, anything.”
“No. I’ve no suggestions. It’s a dream. Just like your telephone call. If I could inherit the money and the hotel, we’d live together forever.”
He sighed. She continued: “The trouble is that we dream whenever we fail to find a way out, an escape. Dreams are our only escape.”
“But the dream may be realized.”
“How?”
“All by itself.”
“You don’t believe that, do you?”
“No!”
“And now dawn is breaking, and we’ve said all that can be said,” she muttered.
He watched her shadow dressing in the dark. One last passionate embrace, and she left. Alone in the dark once again. Darkness like death and the grave. Your mother’s grave. Alone with just your thoughts. Alone, cold, dark. In court, when sentence was passed, she cried out, “I know the monster who is behind this. I’ll kill him.” But her term in jail killed her, slowly but surely.
Oh, if only I could tell everything to Elham. How much easier things would be. She told me everything. I told her nothing but lies. Oh, Father, who do you insist on remaining lost?
Your mother thought she killed me. But it is I who killed her.
Then you are a criminal, a murderer; but I’ll find you.
The seduction of Elham. The bloody struggle. Her screams, I’ll kill you! Her torn dress revealing a naked, ravished body.
The muezzin calling the dawn prayer. Another sleepless night? But no, there was the dream, his mother, his father, and the seduction of Elham.
He got up at seven, opened the window, and heard the beggar down in the square chanting his nonsensical rhymes. Oh! One with the beautiful face, Christians and Jews have embraced your faith. He saw Khalil being helped down the stairs by the porter, Aly Seriakous.