She advanced toward him with steps slowed by the extraordinary weight of her flesh and flab. Then she extended a soft white hand, which emerged from the sleeve of her loose white dress. She was saying, “Welcome! Welcome! You honor and illumine us.”
Yasin shook her hand politely and remained standing until she had seated herself on the nearest sofa. Then he sat down. He was seeing her up close for the first time. Her long-standing ties to his family and the status of matriarch she had acquired over the years because of her age and prestige had kept him, when he saw her at a distance in the street, from scrutinizing her the way he did other women. Thus, it seemed he was making a new discovery. The dress she was wearing covered her body from her neck down to her feet, which she had concealed in white socks despite the warm weather The sleeves of her dress reached to her wrists, and her head and neck were enveloped in a white scarf, the ends of which spread over her breast and back. She presented a modest appearance suiting the occasion and fitting her age, which was close to fifty, so far as Yasin knew. Yet she also appeared to be in splendid health, suggesting a mind at rest and a youthful heart. One thing he noticed was that her face was free of makeup, although he knew her reputation for loving to show herself off to advantage. For that reason she had long been the established authority in the whole quarter for everything relating to feminine taste in clothes and cosmetics. He remembered how Amina had once defended this woman whenever anyone criticized her excesses of self-adornment but over the past few years had attacked Bahija for the most trifling reasons, accusing her of immodesty and of disregard for the decorum appropriate to her age.
“A noble step, Yasin Effendi.”
“May God be generous to you”. He almost ended his words with “Auntie,” but at the last minute an instinctive fear prevented him, especially since he had noticed that she had not called him “my son,” as he would have expected.
“How are all of you?” she asked. “Your father, Fahmy's mother, Khadija, Aisha, and Kamal?”
Feeling embarrassed because she had inquired about people who were hostile to her for no clear reason, he answered, “They're all fine. It's hoped you're in good health.”
No doubt she was thinking of the cold reception she had received in his father's home after Fahmy's death. After a lifelong friendship she had been forced to stop visiting his family. What rude treatment! No, it had been the beginning of a cold war. His stepmother had soon announced her “feeling” that Maryam and her mother had not grieved sincerely for Fahmy. May God not bring any more evil, why? She had said it was inconceivable that they would not have heard back then in one way or another about al-Sayyid Ahmad's refusal to allow Fahmy to ask for Maryam's hand. If they had not heard, they could have deduced it. And if they knew about it, they would inevitably hold a grudge against Fahmy's family. She frequently repeated that she had heard Maryam at the funeral lament Fahmy's passing by saying, “I'm sorry you didn't get to enjoy your youth”. Amina interpreted this to mean: “I'm sorry you didn't get to enjoy your youth, because your family stood in your way,” adding to that interpretation whatever else her sorrow and grief dictated. No stratagem had succeeded in weaning her from her “feeling”. Her behavior toward Maryam and Umm Maryam had quickly been transformed, and relations had been severed.
Still under the influence of his embarrassment and uneasiness, he said, “God curse the devil!”
Endorsing his sentiments, Bahija said, “A thousand curses! I've frequently asked myself what I did to be treated the way I have been by Mrs. Umm Fahmy, but I keep on praying that she may lind some consolation, the poor lady….”
“May God reward you magnificently for your noble manners and good heart. She's truly in a pitiful state and in need of consolation.”
“But how am I at fault?”
“You re not. It's the devil, God's curses on him.”
The woman shook her head as though she were an innocent victim and was silent for a time until she happened to turn to the cup of coffee, which seemed to be sitting forgotten on the tray. Gesturing toward it, she asked, “Haven't you drunk your coffee yet?”
Yasin raised the cup to his mouth and drained it. Putting it back on the tray, he cleared his throat a little and then began his spiel: “I've been distressed by the events ending the friendship between our two families, but there has been nothing I could do. We need to set that aside and let time take care of it. The fact is I didn't mean to arouse sad memories. That's not why I came. My visit has another purpose, one as far removed as possible from sad memories.”
Bahija tossed her head as though to drive away sad thoughts. Then she smiled to show she was ready to hear something new. Her toss of the head and smile resembled a musician's change of key to introduce the vocalist and a new section of the song.
Put at ease by her smile, Yasin said, “My own life is not lacking in sad memories from my past. I refer to my first attempt at marriage. God did not grant me success in finding a proper wife. But I don't want to dwell on that. The fact is that I've come as a result of my decision putting my trust in God to turn over a new page in my life, anticipating nothing but good from my resolve”
Their eyes met, and he found a gratifying reception for his words. Had he been well advised to mention his first marriage? Would not news of the real reasons for the failure ofthat marriage have reached this woman?
“Don't worry,” he told himself. “Her beautiful face gives every indication of unlimited tolerance. Her beautiful face! Aren't her features pretty? They certainly are. If it were not for the difference in age, she would be more beautiful than Maryam. Without any doubt she was more beautiful when she was young. No! She's more beautiful than Maryam, despite the difference in age. She really is!”
“I suspect you've guessed what I have in mind. I've come to ask for the hand of your daughter, Miss Maryam.”
Her radiant face was illuminated by a smile in which pulsed a new vitality. She answered, “All I can say is: Welcome and welcome again. An excellent family and an excellent man. Last time we were unlucky and fell victim to a person of no character. This time a man seeks Maryam who can truly make her happy. By the grace of God she will be able to make him happy. Regardless of the separation occasioned by that misunderstanding we've been a single family for a long time.”
Yasin was so delighted that his fingers began adjusting his bow tie with quick, unconscious strokes. With a blush on his handsome bronze face he said, “I thank you from the bottom of my heart. May God reward the sweetness of your words. As you observed, we are one family in spite of everything, and Miss Maryam is a girl who adorns our whole district with her lineage and character. May God grant each of us consolation with the other for our past misfortunes.”
She murmured, “Amen,” and sighed. Then she approached the table with her glorious body. She took the coffee tray and called Yasmina. Holding the tray, she turned around to give it to the maid, who was hurrying in. Suddenly Maryam's mother looked back to tell him, “We've enjoyed your visit,” and surprised him staring at her massive hips. He was at once aware that he had been caught in a compromising position. He quickly lowered his eyes so that she would assume he had been looking at the floor, but it was too late…. He was rattled and began to ask himself what she would think of him.
After she sat down again he peeked at her stealthily and glimpsed her delicate smile, which seemed to say, “I saw you!” To hell with his eyes that did not know how to be modest…. He wondered what was going through her head. Yes, she was trying to pretend that she had not seen anything, but her attitude subsequent to her smile also implied: “I saw you!” The best solution would be for him to forget this blunder. But would Maryam become like her mother one day? When would that day come? The mother had qualities fate rarely handed out. What a woman she was! The best way to rid himself of these thoughts and disperse the cloud of suspicion would be to break the silence.
He said, “If my request meets with your approval, you will find me ready to discuss the important deta
ils at your convenience.”
She laughed briefly but with an incandescence that made her face seem gentle and youthful. She said, “Why wouldn't we accept, Yasin Effendi? As the saying goes: Seek a neighbor with good lineage….”
Blushing, he replied, “You enslave me with your graciousness.”
“All I've said is the truth, with God as my witness.”
After a brief silence, she asked, “Is your household in agreement?”
A serious look came into his eyes for a moment. Then he laughed listlessly through his nostrils. He said, “Let's not talk about my household and its affairs.”
“May God shelter us from evil, why?”
“Not everything at home is as I would like.”
“Haven't you consulted al-Sayyid Ahmad?”
“My father has given his consent.”
She clapped her hands together and said, “Now I understand. Fahmy's mother? Isn't that so? She was the first to come to mind when you brought up the topic. Naturally, she hasn't agreed. So? Glory to the One who never changes. Your father's wife is a strange woman.”
Shrugging his shoulders dismissively, he said, “That's neither here nor there.”
She complained, “How often I've asked myself what I did wrong. How have I harmed her?”
' 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 hishead 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 clutches 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.”
Hisheart 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.”