Palace of Desire tct-2 Read online

  She yelled sharply, "You could have invented any excuse you wanted, if you'd had a mind to. You're not a person who is short on lies. But you wanted to get rid of me. That's the truth of it."

  Avoiding her eyes, he said, "Our Lord knows of my good intentions."

  She cast a long look at him and then asked defiantly, "Would you have me believe that you allowed yourself to be coerced into making this promise to her?"

  Recojmizing the danger of admitting that, he lowered his eyes and took refuge in silence. Panting with rage, she yelled, "You see! You're a liar, just as I said". Then she shrieked, "See? See? Traitor! Son of a traitor!"

  After some hesitation he responded, "A secret can't remain hidden forever. Imagine what people will say if they find out about our affair. Indeed, imagine what Maryam will say..."

  She ground her teeth in her fury and said, "You swine! Why didn't you mention any of these reservations the day you stood before me slobbering like a dog? Oh, the male sex! Red-hot hell will be too mild a punishment for you."

  He smiled a little and would almost have laughed had he not been restrained by cowardice. Then he said gently and affectionately, "We've had a wonderful time. I'll always remember it fondly. That's enough anger and bitterness. Maryam is your daughter and you more than anyone else desire her happiness."

  She shook her head scornfully and said, "Are you the one to make her happy? May the walls be my witness: The poor girl doesn't know the kind of devil she's marrying. You're the lecherous son of a debauchee. May our Lord repay her for the mess she's getting herself into."

  He said with the composure he had maintained from the beginning, "Our Lord will be able to set everything right. I have a sincere desire for a good marriage with a good wife."

  She said derisively, "I'll cut my arm off if you're speaking the truth. We'll see. Don't cast any aspersions on my qualities as a mother. My daughter's happiness is more important to me than any other consideration. If you had not deceived and betrayed me, I would have been glad to hand you to her Hke a dirty shoe."

  Yasin wondered whether the crisis was over. He was waiting for her to put on her veil and bid him farewell, but she did not budge. Time passed. She was sitting on the bed, and he was on the chair facing her. He had no idea how or when this strange and tense meeting would end. He stole a look at her and found her gazing at the floor, so lost and resigned that his fond feelings for her were momentarily revived.

  "Will she start raving again? That's not unlikely. But it appears that she's aware of her delicate situation with regard to her daughter and will honor its demands."

  Before he knew what was happening she had removed the wrap from around her shoulders and chest, mumbling, "It's warm". Then she scooted along the bed to the end, where she leaned back against the headboard. She stretched her legs out, paying no attention to her shoes, the heels of which were sinking into the folds of the comforter. She still appeared lost in her reflections. Did she simply have nothing more to say?

  In a tone notable for its gentleness, he asked her, "Would you permit me to call on you tomorrow?"

  She ignored his question for a minute. Then she threw him a look like a curse and replied, "You will be most welcome, you chip off the old block."

  He smiled with satisfaction, although he felt her glances scorching his face. After a moment she said, "Don't think I'm a fool. I reconciled myself to this conclusion sooner or later. It's just that you've speeded it up in a way that…" Then she finished with a combination of resignation and scorn: "Whatever we have to do…."

  He did not believe her but pretended to. He told her that he was sure it was true and hoped she would forgive him and not harbor ill feelings. She did not bother to listen and made her way back to the edge of the bed. Then she threw her feet to the ground, stood up, and began to pull her wrap around her. She said, "I leave you in the hands of God."

  He rose silently and went ahead of her to the door to open it. He led the way out but was caught off guard by a blow falling on the nape of his neck. Then the woman passed by him to the stairs, leaving him stunned, his hand spread over the place where she had hit him. Grasping hold of the railing, she turned back and said, "May you live to receive many more. You've hurt me much more than that. Don't I have a right to satisfy my craving for vengeance, even if only with a slap, you son of a bitch?"

  84

  "Al-Sayyid Ahmad, please excuse me if I tell you frankly that you're spending money recklessly these days."

  Jamil al-Hamzawi said that in a tone blending subservient politeness with friendly informality. Although fifty-seven, he was strong and in good health. His hair was speckled with gray, but time had not decreased his energy in any respect. He still spent the whole day in constant motion, looking after the store and its customers, just as he had since he started working there, back when die business was first established. Over the years he had gained secure rights and the respect due him for his industry and honesty. Ahmad Abd al-Jawad considered him a friend. The affection he had shown his employee recently by helping enroll Fuad in Law School had only increased al-Hamzawi's loyalty and inclination to speak up frankly when necessary to avoid some harm or realize some gain.

  Referring perhaps to their brisk sales in the frantic market, Ahmad replied in a reassuring tone, "Business is great, praise God."

  Smiling, Jamil al-Hamzawi answered, "My our Lord multiply and sanction it. But I repeat what I've said of you, that if you had embraced the mores of the merchant along with his profession, you would be a wealthy man today."

  Ahmad grinned with satisfaction and shrugged his shoulders. He earned a lot and spent a lot. How could he regret the pleasures he gained from life? He had never lost track of the need to keep his income and expenditures in balance and always kept a reserve on hand. Aisha and Khadija were both married. Kamal was beginning the final stage of his schooling. Why should he not enjoy some of the good things life had to offer? But al-Hamzawi was not overstating the case when he accused his boss of squandering money, for in fact he had been anything but economical and judicious of late. His expenses took many forms. Gifts devoured a substantial sum. The houseboat was squeezing him dry. His mistress was demanding sacrifices of him. In short, Zanuba was pushing him to spend money extravagantly, and he was allowing himself to be manipulated, putting up little resistance. He had not been like that in the past. Of course he had spent lavishly, but no woman had ever been able to sway him from a steady course or to force him to spend recklessly. Back then he had been confident of his powers. He had not cared much whether he responded to all his mistress's requests. If she was coy with him, he would pretend to lose interest in her, for he was proudly aware of his youthful virility. Nowadays, desire for his lover had subjected his will to hers and made the expenses appear trivial to him. He seemed to have no object in life beyond retaining her affection and winning her heart. But how vainglorious her affection was! What a refractory heart she had! The truth of his situation was not hidden from him, and he felt saddened and hurt by it. He remembered his salad days with longing and sorrow, although he did not acknowledge that they had departed. Yet he did not lift a finger to make any serious attempt to resist. That was beyond his power.

  Al-Sayyid Ahmad told Jamil al-Hamzawi with apparent irony, "Perhaps you're wrong to consider me a merchant". Then with resignation he added, "Only God is well-to-do."

  Some people came in, and al-Hamzawi was busy looking after them. No sooner was al-Sayyid Ahmad left to his own reflections than he noticed a person who, after filling the doorway to capacity, was strutting toward him. This was a surprise. He recalled at once that he had not laid eyes on this figure for four years or more. Moved solely by politeness, he rose to greet her, saying, "Welcome to our honored neighbor."

  Maryam's mother held out a hand covered with a corner of her wrap as she said, "Thank you, al-Sayyid Ahmad."

  He invited her to sit down, and she took the chair she had used on a day that was now part of history. He sat back down wondering about
this new development. He had not seen her since she came to call on him at the store a year after Fahmy's death, when she had attempted to get him to resume his visits to her house. He had been amazed at her daring then. Not having recovered from his grief, he had treated her gruffly and bade her farewell coldly. Why was she corning back today? He looked her over and found her unchanged. She was plump and elegant, wearing a fragrant perfume. Her eyes sparkled over the top of her veil. But her finery could not conceal the advance of time and the lines under her eyes. She reminded him of Jalila and Zubayda. How heroically these women risked their lives in the battle for life and youth…. Amina had only too quickly fallen prey to her sorrows and allowed her bloom to fade.

  Bahija brought her chair close to the desk and said in a low voice, "Excuse me, al-Sayyid, sir, for this visit. Necessity has its own laws."

  Looking dignified and grave, al-Sayyid Ahmad immediately replied, "Welcome to you. Your visit is an honor and a favor for us."

  Smiling, she answered in a tone that revealed her gratitude, "Thank you. Praise to God I've found you in good spirits and good health."

  He in turn thanked her and prayed that she would be well and strong. Then she was silent for a few moments before saying with concern, "I've come for an important reason. I was told he had consulted you in due time and received your consent. I refer to Yasin Effendi's request to marry my daughter Maryam. Was I correctly informed? This is what I've come to discover."

  Ahma d Abd al-Jawad lowered his eyes to keep her from reading in them his resentment at her words. He was not deceived by her pretense at concern for his consent. Let her try her wiles on some other man unfamiliar with what lay hidden behind them. He for one knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that it was all the same to her whether he gave his consent or withheld it. Did she not realize why he had not accompanied Yasin on his visit to her? Even so, she had come to force him to proclaim his approval and for some other reason, which would shortly be revealed.

  He looked up at her with calm eyes and said, "Yasin told me of his plan and I wished him success. Maryam has always been like a daughter to us."

  "May God grant me the blessing of your being favored with a long life. This marriage tie will be a prestigious honor for us."

  "I thatik you for your compliment."

  She said fervently, "I'm pleased to tell you frankly that I postponed announcement of my consent until I could be certain of yours."

  "Bitch!" he exclaimed to himself. "She probably announced her approval even before seeing Yasin."

  "Mrs. Umm Maryam, I can only repeat my thanks."

  "For that reason, the first thing I told Yasin Effendi was: 'Let me be sure your father agrees before anything else, for every other consideration is negligible compared to his wrath.'"

  "My God, my God!" She had no sooner stolen the mule than she was busy throwing ropes around his master.

  "Coming from you, such a noble statement is hardly unusual."

  With triumphant enthusiasm she continued her verbal offensive: "Al-Sayyid, sir, you're a man after our own heart, the best anyone would boast of in our whole quarter."

  The guile of women and their coquetry how fed up he was with both. Could she possibly imagine that he was wallowing in the dust to pursue the affections of a lute player once scorned by drunkards?

  He replied modestly, "God forgive me."

  In a sad tone, her voice rising enough so that he was afraid those at the far end of the store would hear her, she said, "I was very sad to learn he had left his father's home."

  Al-Sayyid Ahmad shook his head to caution her not to speak too loudly. Before she could say anything more, he commented with a frown, "The fact is, his conduct angered me. I was amazed he had done such a stupid thing. He should have asked my advice first, but he carried his belongings to Palace of Desire Alley. Only then did he come to apologize to me! A juvenile prank, Mrs. Umm Maryam…. I lectured him, ignoring his alleged disagreement with Amina. That was a silly reason for him to give in an attempt to justify even more foolish behavior."

  "By your life, that's exactly what I told him. But Satan is ingenious. I also advised him that Mrs. Amina is not to be blamed. May our Lord console her for her sufferings. In any case, from someone like you, al-Sayyid, sir, pardon can be hoped."

  With a flick of his wrist he seemed to say, "Let's drop this."

  She commented ingratiatingly, "But I'll only be satisfied with a full pardon and your approval."

  "Pshaw!" If only he could tell her frankly how disgusted he was with all of them: her, her daughter, and the great mule.

  "Yasin's my son in any event. May God guide him to the right path…."

  She leaned her head back a little and left it there while she savored the pleasures of success and victory. Then she continued in a gentle voice: "May our Lord be gracious to you, al-Sayyid Ahmad. On my way over, I asked myself, 'Do you suppose he'll disappoint me and send me away empty-handed? Or will he treat his old neighbor the way he used to, in the past?' Praise God, you always live up to people's expectations. May God extend your life and enjoyment of health and strength."

  "She thinks she's pulling the wool over my eyes," he told himself "And she's entitled to. You're a failure as a father. Your best son has died, the second's a loss, and the third is headstrong. This has all happened over my dead body, you bitch."

  "I can't thank you enough," he said.

  Bowing her head, she observed, "Whatever I've said of you is far less t ban you deserve. How frequently I confessed that to you in the past…."

  "Oh, the past! Close that door, by the life of the mule whose acquisition you've come to record". He spread his hand across his chest to express his thanks.

  She said dreamily, "Why not? Didn't I love you more than any man before or after you?"

  This was what she wanted. Why had he not realized it from the first moment? "She hasn't come for Yasin or Maryam but for me. No, you've come for your own sake, you whom time has not changed in any respect save to deprive you of youth. But not so fast. … Can you really bring back a day that's over and done with?"

  He allowed her remark to pass without comment, limiting himself to a smile of thanks. She grinned so broadly that her teeth were visible through her veil.

  Somewhat critically she said, "It seems you don't remember a thing…."

  He wanted to apologize for his apparent disinterest without hurting her feelings. He said, "I no longer have a mind in my head capable of remembering anything."

  She cried out sympathetically, "You've grieved far more than you should. Life can't tolerate or allow this, when you — if you'll excuse me for saying it are accustomed to a pleasant life. The grkf that would affect an ordinary man one carat has a twenty-four-carat impact on you."

  "It's a sermon intended to benefit the preacher," he reflected. "If only Yasin was as easily satiated as I am. Why do I find you repulsive? You're certainly more obedient than Zanuba and incomparably less expensive. It seems my heart has developed a will to suffer."

  With a combination of humility and cunning he asked, "How can a grieving heart laugh?"

  As though glimpsing a ray of hope she quickly said with enthusiasm, "Laugh so your heart may laugh. Don't wait for it to laugh first. It's out of the question to think it will laugh all by itself after it's suffered from depression for such a long time. Resume your old life. Its joy, now slumbering, will return to you. Search out the things that delighted you in previous times as well as your former lovers. How do you know that there are no hearts that have stayed true to you, yearning for you, despite your long avoidance of them?"

  Despite his better judgment his heart was transported by such delight that his thoughts strayed. This really was the way people ought to speak to Ahmad Abd al-Jawad. Words like these, accompanied by the tinkling of glasses, had caressed his ears during their parties. If only the lute player heard praise like this, perhaps she would curb her excesses. "Too bad it's someone you loathe who is praising you," he brooded.

 
In a tone that gave no hint of his secret delight, he said, "Those days have passed."

  She reared back in protest and said, "By the Lord of al-Husayn, you're still a young man…". Smiling modestly, she continued: "You're a camel and as handsome as the full moon. Your time isn't up and never will be. Don't consider yourself old prematurely. Or let others make that decision, for they may see you in a different light than you do yourself."

  He replied politely but in a tone that graciously expressed his desire to terminate their conversation: "Rest assured, Mrs. Umm Mary am, that I'm not killing myself with grief. I've found various amusements to distract me from my sorrow."

  Her enthusiasm waning a little, she asked, "Does that suffice to raise the spirits of a man like you?"

  "My soul aspires to nothing more," he answered contentedly.

  He seemed to have flustered her, but she pretended to be at ease as she said, "Thank God I've found you with the peace of mind and tranquillity I wish for you."

  Then there was nothing more to say. She rose and held out a hand covered with the end of her wrap. They shook hands and, preparing to depart, she said, "J hope I leave you in good health."

  She left, averting her eyes because she was unable to conceal their disappointed look.

  85

  The suares omnibus went down al-Husayniya Street, and then its two emaciated horses began to traverse the asphalt of al-Abbasiya Street, as the driver goaded them on with his long whip. Kamal was sitting at the front of the vehicle at the end of a bench close to the driver. With a slight turn of his head the boy could see al-Abbasiya Street stretching out in front of his eyes. It was wider than the streets he was used to in the old part of town and so lengthy that it appeared to have no end. The surface was level and smooth, and the houses on either side were huge with spacious grounds and lush gardens.