The Harafish (17 page)

She uncurled slowly and menacingly from her seat like a tongue of flame. “Hold your filthy tongue!” she shrieked in his face.

Then he went crazy. He beat her, slapped her, kicked her until she sank unconscious to the floor. Through the anger blazing in his eyes, he stared at her in astonishment. He thought she was dead, or dying. So that was how easy it was to escape from the uncertainty that had plagued him all this time. He leapt the wall of reality and left the room, fired with deadly resolve.

41
.

Khidr was having a meeting with the creditors in Sheikh Said's shop when Bikr rushed in. He held a knife in his hand and was drunk with rage.

“I've killed her, and now it's your turn,” he yelled.

He lunged at his brother. Thanks to the intervention of some of the onlookers the knife missed its target, and pierced Khidr's
turban harmlessly. They pinioned Bikr's arms to his side, wrested the knife from him, and threw him to the floor.

“He's gone mad!”

“He's a murderer, you mean.”

Bikr raised his head a little off the floor and shouted, “You're just after money and you don't care where it comes from!”

“Let's hand him over to the police,” said Sheikh Said.

“He's killed his wife,” exclaimed Khidr brokenly.

“Get him to the police station.”

Bikr began shouting again: “Bastards! Sons of bitches!”

42
.

The truth soon came out: Radwana wasn't dead as Bikr had thought. They let him go and he fled from the alley.

Khidr settled accounts with the creditors as agreed. The business was put into liquidation but the Samari and Shubakshi houses remained in Radwana's possession.

Fathiyya invited Khidr to stay with her until he had organized his life. He obviously intended to stay in the alley and lost no time in taking steps to buy back the grain merchant's and become active in business again. He also thought about buying the Samari or Shubakshi house, to provide himself with a suitable place to live, and at the same time enable Radwana and her children to live comfortably on what she made from the sale.

“You've always been generous,” remarked Fathiyya.

“I never forgot my family. They were in my thoughts all the time I was away,” he replied mildly.

The alley too. And he had learned in his exile that the Nagi name meant something in the world outside while the Samari name was of little significance. He discovered that true heroism was like musk: it sweetened people's lives and stimulated them, even if they never had the chance to be heroes themselves. But was this the sole reason he had come back to the alley?

“Why haven't you married?” asked Fathiyya.

“I hated the idea of marrying in exile,” he answered hurriedly.

43
.

He suddenly felt inspired to go and see Atris. The meeting took place in Atris' luxurious house. The clan chief welcomed him effusively. “We're honored to receive the son of a family of heroes,” he said.

Khidr replied modestly, “I'm simply coming to pay my respects to the chief, as I intend to settle in the alley.”

“You people are always a force for good,” said Atris, relaxing.

This encounter ensured that suspicions were nipped in the bud.

44
.

Was he waiting for something particular? He was working as a grain merchant again, and suffering conflicting emotions. Now the hot southerly winds of spring were lashing the alley walls once more, raising clouds of dust, muddying the hot, thick air. Soon the summer would be here with its easy majesty, honest heat, and sticky breath. Was he waiting for something to happen? Radwana had sent someone to thank him; and he had replied pleasantly. Fathiyya reported to Radwana on his behalf that he thought this use of emissaries made them seem like strangers. Finally he sent Fathiyya to arrange a meeting with her. He went at night to avoid prying eyes, so that memories of the past would not become topics of discussion once more. Although his feelings were in turmoil, he was filled with secret determination.

Radwana received him in the salon, modestly dressed, with her head bowed and a black veil as if she were in mourning. They shook hands and their eyes met only for an instant, but in that short space they gave off sparks like two stones rubbing together. Then they sat, silent and uncomfortable, each wishing the meeting was over.

“This is an opportunity for me to thank you in person,” said Radwana.

Relaxing a little, Khidr said, “And for me to tell you that I'm here to help you if you need anything.”

“What about Bikr?”

“I haven't forgotten my duty to him, but there hasn't been a trace of him so far.”

“When do you imagine he'll come back?”

“I know he's very proud. I'm afraid he may stay away a long time. How are the children?”

“As well as can be expected.”

Khidr hesitated a little, then said, “I want to buy the Shubakshi house, if you'll let me.”

She frowned slightly. “That's your way of helping a bankrupt woman, I suppose.”

“I need somewhere in a hurry,” he said uncertainly. Then, resigning himself, “We're all in the same family anyway.”

“Thank you for your good intentions,” she said, giving him a long look. Then after a moment's silence she asked, “Have you forgotten my past faults?”

“The past'll trip you up if you let it hang around,” he answered too promptly.

“But do you really think it's possible to forget?”

“Of course. When it's for the best.”

“I don't know…”

“If I hadn't thought that I wouldn't have come back. And we wouldn't have met like this.”

A wary look came into her beautiful eyes. “Did you really come about buying the house?” she demanded.

A feeling of confusion threatened him for a moment. Suppressing it, he answered, “Of course.”

“But you know it still belongs to Bikr!”

He flushed and said, “We can find a way around that.”

She shook her head doubtfully.

“Let me help you at least,” he pleaded.

“There are enough precious objects in the two houses to guarantee us a very comfortable life,” she said haughtily.

“But I'm responsible for you too.”

“I don't need any help, thanks,” she said with an unfathomable look in her eyes.

He looked down, acquiescing, and made a gesture to imply that it was time the meeting ended.

“Did you have another aim in mind?” she asked anxiously.

He stared at her in astonishment and she said boldly, “I mean did you come to tell me off or punish me?”

“God forbid! Such an idea never entered my head,” he protested.

She said nothing and he went on heatedly, “I've been honest with you the whole time.”

The tension around her mouth disappeared and she looked peaceful all at once. Changing the subject abruptly she said, “You prospered in exile.”

“Yes. I took all my savings with me and put them to good use.”

“We're all pleased for you.”

He paused, then said, “Success doesn't always make you happy.”

“I know that only too well. But what's to stop you being happy?”

There was a heavy silence, then she said in some confusion, “We stopped being happy too.”

“There's a curse…” he muttered.

“Saniyya was always saying that we were cursed.”

She realized from the way he avoided asking about his mother that he knew what had happened to her, and regretted mentioning her. But Khidr said, “Perhaps she was right.”

“She thought I was the curse,” sighed Radwana.

“We always exaggerate when we're upset,” he said in a low voice.

“I admit I was wicked. I really treated you badly.”

“What's done is done,” he grunted.

“Nobody takes proper account of what their feelings tell them,” she asserted defiantly. He could think of nothing to reply, so she went on, “Even if they're sincere.”

This was the moment he'd been desperately hoping for. The reason why he'd come. Perhaps the reason why he'd returned to the alley. Why he'd never been happy elsewhere.

He let the feeling of pleasure wash over him. “Sometimes people deny their feelings on purpose,” he said.

Her face lit up. Thoughtfulness and eager curiosity shone in her luminous blue eyes. “What do you mean?” she demanded.

He was silent, tormented by guilt.

“What do you mean?” she repeated.

“What did I say?” he asked in confusion.

“That people sometimes deny their own feelings deliberately. Don't try to get out of it now.”

He was silent.

Intoxicated with sudden joy, she said, “I didn't deny mine.”

Still he said nothing and she continued passionately, “Speak! Why did you come?”

He said brokenly, “I've told you.”

“I mean the last thing you said.”

“I talked more than I ought to have done,” he said, as if making a confession.

“Ought to have done! Ought to have done!” she shouted, out of her mind. “Why did you come? You know very well it was purely to say that.”

He was sinking rapidly. “First it was a curse, now it's madness,” he said.

Her beauty reasserted itself, sweeping away her distress. “Tell me honestly and plainly.”

“You know it all.”

“That doesn't matter. I want to hear you saying it.”

He looked at her softly, confessing, acknowledging. Her heart sang and her beauty blazed out suddenly, superb in its moment of triumph.

“So it wasn't you who said no?”

“Part of me did.”

“What about the other part?”

Very seriously he declared, “I loved you. I still do. But we have to think carefully.”

In the dignity of the night silence fell. Both of them wanted it this time. The sound of their hearts beating drummed in their ears.

45
.

If permanence were possible, why would the seasons change?

46
.

Waiting is an ordeal: it tears the soul apart; time dies, aware of its own dying. The future is based on clear premises but may turn out to be full of contradictions. Let anybody desperately waiting for something to happen wallow in anxiety to his heart's content.

She was married, unmarried, and in love as well. She called upon holy men, consulted lawyers, driven crazy by thinking about what she should do next.

In the grain merchant's he conducted his business efficiently, debated passionately with his feelings, hid his desires, fought violently against temptation, and bombarded heaven with prayers.

People watched, remembered, counted the sidelong glances and the veiled intentions, misinterpreted what they thought they saw, anticipated the confirmation of doubts—all in the guise of piety and innocence.

“Respectability is a mask,” Sheikh Said would say. “The dissolute man is more ingenious than the devil himself.”

“Why hasn't Khidr married yet?” Uthman al-Darzi would ask his customers in the bar.

47
.

The creeping sorrow enfolded Ibrahim, Radwana's brother and Khidr's agent, in its tentacles. Rumors hit him like sparks from a fire. He had lost his status and now he was losing his honor. The days slowly passing contrived to give him a sense of impending disaster.

One day, unable to bear it any longer, he interrogated Khidr.
“Wouldn't you be within your rights if you claimed the Shubakshi and Samari houses in repayment: for the debts you soaked up?”

“The thought never crossed my mind,” answered Khidr in astonishment.

“It's nice of you to look after Bikr's responsibilities even when he's turned his back on them,” Ibrahim remarked slyly.

“His children are my children,” said Khidr innocently.

Fine words, but what was behind them?

48
.

Ibrahim found himself in a diabolical situation. There were no obstacles ahead; life looked promising and trouble-free, but some anonymous impulse was thrusting him toward difficult terrain. He advanced with his eyes open, his mind as sharp as a knife blade, and he realized he was fast approaching some unnamed terror.

One evening he went to visit his sister Radwana. They had always been loving and protective to one another, but he felt compelled to tell her what was being said about her. She was plainly annoyed. “That's how people are. They won't change.”

“It's our duty to put a stop to these rumors,” protested Ibrahim.

“I'd like to cut their tongues out,” she said savagely.

“It's all we can expect when your husband vanishes like this,” said Ibrahim schemingly. “He's a bastard.”

“True,” she slipped in quickly, while he paused for breath, “and I shouldn't put up with it.”

“What do you mean?” asked Ibrahim, his apprehensions rekindled.

“I'm perfectly entitled to ask for a divorce.”

“A divorce!” he cried angrily.

“That's right. Why are you getting so cross?”

“Respectable women don't do things like that.”

“
Only
respectable women do things like that!”

“What grounds have you got?”

“He left me without any means of support.”

“And will divorcing him give you an income?” he asked slyly.

She realized she had gone too far, and looking a little flustered, she mumbled, “At least I'll be breaking off a relationship that no longer makes sense.”

“Put it off for a little while, please,” he begged. “It's a complicated procedure that we know nothing about.”

“Not at all, according to the lawyer!”

“You've consulted a lawyer already?” he asked in surprise.

There was an awkward silence.