The Beginning and the End (11 page)

Soliman Gaber Soliman spoke. “Don't have any doubts about it. We shall marry as I have told you. I make this promise before God.”

Nefisa listened to him attentively, her heart beating hard. There was no longer anything new in her taking his arm and walking by his side in one of the back streets of Shubra, where darkness prevailed and the passersby were few. Ugly and of mean appearance though he was, she always looked upon him as a wonderful beau because of his warm emotion and great interest in her. Thus she developed a profound, even mad love for him.

She believed that he was her first and last lover. Hope and despair made her cling to him passionately, and love him with her nerves and flesh and blood. Her turbulent instincts saw him as her savior from despair and frustration.

He was the first man to restore her self-confidence. He reassured her that she was a woman like other women. She was born anew each time he confessed his love for her; and in spite of the engulfing gloom of the world, she perceived its illuminating splendor. However, words of love were not enough for her. She was eager for something more that was no less important than love itself; or, perhaps, to her, the two were identical. She kept urging him until he promised to marry her. Encouraged by the enveloping darkness, she asked him, “So what do you intend to do?”

He answered without hesitation, “It would be natural for me to tell my father and then we would go together to your mother to ask for your hand.”

“I think so, too.”

He sighed audibly and said, “I wish it could be. But right now, it's a remote hope.”

She became depressed. “Why?” she inquired anxiously.

“My father,” he said angrily, “damn him. He's a foolish, obstinate old man. He wants me to marry the daughter of Amm Gobran el-Tuni, the grocer, whose shop is located on the corner of Shubra Street and Al Walid Street. I don't need to tell you that I refused and will continue to refuse. But I can't suggest to him at present that I have proposed to another girl. If I do, he will dismiss me.”

She felt her throat becoming dry. Looking at him with disdain, she inquired worriedly, “What is to be done, then?”

“We have to be very patient. No force in the whole world could deflect me from my goal. But we must be on our guard lest he become aware of our relationship.”

“Till when must we remain patient?”

He hesitated, perplexed. “Until he dies,” he murmured.

“Until he dies!” she exclaimed with anxiety. “Suppose we die before him?”

Confused, he gave a dry laugh. “Leave this matter to me and to time,” he said. “We are not completely helpless.”

His words struck her as equivocal and most ungratifying.
I can't tell him that I am afraid that in the interval of waiting someone else may step in and propose to marry me,
she thought.
This would be a good tactic for a girl of wealth and beauty. But as for me, who will ask for my hand in such hard times as these, when men are avoiding marriage? I have degraded myself by accepting the worst, but the worst does not accept me. He is just a son of a grocer! Even the suit on his body appears odd and ill-fitting.
She felt an oppressive hand pressing her neck. Her fear made her cling to him more and more. At that moment, he was worth all the world to her. It was not clear to her how she could marry him, even if he removed the obstacles standing in their way. Her mother could not possibly offer her anything by way of help. Besides, her family could not
do without the few piasters she earned. But she desired him; desired him from the depths of her soul, at whatever cost.

Her face grew grim, and she opened her mouth to speak. Suddenly, she saw someone coming along the road, and the blood congealed in her veins. She uttered a terrified groan and was about to take to her heels. But she stopped when she distinguished the face of the newcomer as he passed under the light of a lamppost. Her terror disappeared, and she gave a sigh of relief. Wondering, Soliman inquired, “What is wrong with you?”

She answered breathlessly, “I thought it was my brother Hassan.”

The young man seized this opportunity to express a long-cherished desire. “We shall always be subject to fear,” he said to her, “as long as we roam about in the streets. Listen to me. Why don't we go to my home and stay for a while, where no one could see us?”

“Your home!” she exclaimed in astonishment.

“Yes. My father spends Friday evening with the Sheikh of the Al Shazliah sect, and he remains there until midnight. My mother is also away in Zagazig on a visit to my sister, who is expecting a baby. So there is no one at home.”

Astounded by his suggestion, she said with a palpitating heart, “How can I possibly go home with you? Are you mad?”

“We need a safe place,” he entreated her. “My home is safe, and my invitation to you is innocent. I want to be safely alone with you so we can discuss our troubles quietly, far away from fears and watchful eyes.”

As he spoke, she listened with a frown on her face. In spite of herself, fearfully and anxiously she was forming a mental picture of his empty home. To no avail, she tried to use anger to obliterate this mental picture; but it persisted in her mind's eye. She said sharply, “No, not at your home!”

Pressing the palm of her hand, he said beseechingly, “Why
not? I thought you would welcome my invitation. I want to be alone with you so that I can talk to you about my love for you, my hopes and plans. There is nothing wrong with what I am asking you to do, and nobody will ever know about us.”

She obstinately shook her head, and her heart kept throbbing violently. She wished to be left alone, to have time to think this matter over. She felt a desire to escape, but she remained motionless. She walked on by his side, with the palm of her hand in his. She tried in vain to banish the picture of the presumably empty house from her imagination. Then she felt her insides turning upside down, as if she was sinking into a bottomless abyss. Overcome by more worry and confusion, she said, her tension obvious in her voice, “Not at your home.”

His quivering hand pressed hers.

“Yes, in my home,” he said. “Think it over a little. What are you afraid of? I love you and you love me. We want to talk in a safe place, away from watchful eyes, about our love and our future. It is a rare opportunity to have the whole house to ourselves and we should not miss it. I'm surprised at your hesitation!”

She also wondered why she was hesitant, but for different reasons. Had she really wanted to refuse his invitation categorically, she would have done so quite easily and clearly. But it seemed to her that she was persisting in her hesitant refusal so as not to frighten him away. Probably she was afraid and shy, but she could not ignore the radical transformation that had occurred inside her. She was overcome by confusion, anxiety, and tension. She said feebly, “It's better to continue walking.”

Temptingly, he pulled her to him, saying, “You never can tell. Your brother Hassan might appear at any moment.”

She found herself responding to his fears and surrendering to him, saying, “I'm afraid of what would happen if he did.”

Sighing with relief, he exhaled a fiery breath. “Let's go home.”

She resisted his hand feebly. “No, I won't go.”

“Just for a few minutes. Our alley is dark and nobody will see us.” He walked on, and she followed him with heavy steps, saying, “No.”

Her heart was throbbing so violently that her ribs seemed to crack.

Opening the door with a key, he whispered, “Please, come in.”

“Let's go back,” she entreated him.

He pushed her gently inside.

“You must honor our home.”

He entered behind her and closed the door. She found herself enveloped in pitch-darkness. She raised her face toward the ceiling, waiting for him to turn on the light. She felt his hand touching her shoulder, and a quiver passed down her spine.

“Turn on the light,” she whispered in fear.

“The light in the hall is out of order,” he answered apologetically.

“Then light another lamp to get rid of the dark.”

Encircling her waist with one arm, he pushed her, saying, “I know the way to my room.”

She tried to wrest herself from his arm, but he tightened his grip on her waist and clung to her. He pushed her gently, walking slowly beside her. A feeling of suffocation weighed heavily upon her chest, and she kept wondering what she had done with herself.

Gradually she became accustomed to the darkness and in the obscurity she perceived the shapes of several chairs, a cupboard, and a few other things which she could not identify. Slowly and cautiously they crossed the hall. Then, as he stretched out his free hand to open a door, it creaked, breaking the dreadful silence. Holding her on both sides of her waist, he pushed her inside, and shut the door with his foot. Quickly, she escaped from his hands.

“Light the lamp! I can't bear the darkness!” she said sharply.

His voice reached out to her, gentle, cautious, and apologetic.
“I am sorry, my darling. My uncle's flat is next to ours. So I'm afraid some member of his family might see the light and come to knock on our door.”

“Are we going to remain in the dark?” she asked him, astonished and angry.

“The light of your beauty is enough,” he answered in a cajoling tone.

“Let me leave,” she entreated him.

He kept groping for her hand in the dark until he found it. Then he lifted it to his mouth and kissed it, twice.

“No, you sit down and rest. Once you're used to the darkness, it will not disturb you,” he said, somewhat agitated.

Leaning toward her, almost leaping upon her, he lifted her in his arms and carried her to the end of the room. He seated her on a sofa and sat very close to her. She was too astonished to resist him. Then he said, “Let's stop arguing. We should be sitting and chatting calmly. We've gone to a lot of trouble to get here, and it makes no difference whether we are in the dark or the light. It doesn't matter where we stay and it shouldn't disturb our peace of mind,” he said.

He took her arm. She was quivering, trying in vain to collect her scattered thoughts as he covered her arm with kisses from his coarse lips. She moved away from him to catch her breath, and he leaned toward her; but she stopped him with her hands.

“Leave me alone. I'm tired,” she said breathlessly.

He drew in his breath.

“Have no fear. Why are you so frightened? You're quivering. You're in your own home—your husband's home,” he said laughingly.

She heard her throbbing heart beating in her ears, all through her head. She drew in a deep breath. She felt his hand taking hers, and was about to withdraw it, but as though realizing her own foolishness, she changed her mind. So he kept her hand between his.

“Everything is nice and quiet. I can see your beauty even in the dark.” His tone changed.

“I'm not beautiful,” she said almost unconsciously.

“Leave it for me to judge. I am not mad about you for no reason,” he said as he stroked her hand with his palm.

In the deep silence she focused her attention unconsciously on her palm, as if he were devouring it with his hands.

A feeling of numbness crept into her palm, spreading to her arms and breast. “That's enough,” she whispered, trembling.

“Give me your lips so I can kiss them. I shall press so many kisses on them, a hundred or even a thousand kisses. I shall keep kissing them until I die,” he said, sobbing.

He thrust himself greedily upon her, planting a long and passionate kiss on her lips, pressing her head into the back of the sofa.

He lifted his face and moved it away from her.

“Kiss me. I want to feel your lips devouring mine!” he whispered excitedly.

She was too tired to disobey him. Raising her face a little, she kissed him.

“We didn't come here to do this,” she murmured.

“To do what, then?”

“To sit and talk.”

He pressed his lips very hard on hers. Then he turned his face and placed his cheek against her mouth, and whispered into her ear, “That's better. We have talked much. I am telling you once more that you are my wife; my wife even if the whole world ostracizes me. It's only a matter of time; it won't be long.”

Perhaps he believes that I am anxious and in a hurry to marry him,
she thought.
Let him keep this illusion. My family's circumstances being what they are, maybe waiting is better. Right now, my family neither welcomes my marriage nor is prepared for it. There is no harm in waiting.
She kept these thoughts to herself, however.

“It's only a matter of time. But in the meantime, how much we need to have a little fun,” Soliman said again.

Stretching his left hand around her back, he grasped her breast with his right hand, feeling her firm, large, blossoming bosom under her arm. The blood boiling up in his veins, he embraced her savagely, and his hot breath streamed down her cheek and neck. She felt amazed and numb, and her desire and fear returned to her. She felt at once a mixture of anxiety, pleasure, and despair. The surrounding darkness became thicker than ever. It was as if this profound and eerie darkness stretched its wings in an infinite void, free from the limitations of time and space.

“You're unusually late,” her mother said to her.

“I wanted to finish my day's work, and I did,” she answered grimly. Putting seventy-five piasters in her mother's hand, she
continued,
“They gave me all my wages. I shall keep the rest of the pound for myself.”

Samira kept silent. Nefisa entered her room and began to undress. In the utter silence of the place the voice of Hassanein, reading aloud, struck her ears and left a curious impression; whether it was fear or unmitigated sadness that flowed over her, she could not tell.