The Beginning and the End (38 page)

The taxi sped swiftly to Farouk Street, Ataba Square, then Imbaba.

Like strangers they sat inside the taxi. Half of his back to her, he looked out of the window at the road; Nefisa, her head bowed, was dazed and self-absorbed. Nothing significant passed through her mind. She was quietly immobile, like the silence in the wake of a storm, the motionlessness of death after the last painful breath. Before she fainted in the street, she had already reached the apex of insane paroxysm. As she returned to consciousness she was assaulted anew by her train of fearful thoughts. In infernal horror, her life passed before her, until the weight of her sorrows caused her to bow her head over her chest, as if desperately doomed under the weight of a collapsing wall. Now, she realized, it was all over, after her complete collapse, the appearance of Hassanein, and their conversation in the street. Horror left her mind in a mute vacuum, save for some distant memory of the days of her childhood, or some trifling aspect of the taxi floor. Yet she was undergoing an experience hitherto unknown to her. Life was worthless; death would rescue her from its painful humiliation. True, she had long resented her past life and sometimes dreamt of death. But she had not considered suicide, for always a gleam of hope lay hidden at the bottom of her heart. Now all connections with her life had been severed. Gone were the roots tying her to existence. Profound despair gave way to relief from the burden of living.

Now in her resignation, the death she hurried to meet became a soothing drug. As the speeding taxi suddenly swerved at a
corner, Nefisa almost fell off the seat and became fearfully aware of her surroundings. Though her head was bowed, she felt his presence by her side. At the glimpse of his suffocating shape enveloped in a mysterious mist, her heart ached with pain and shame.
What could he be thinking of?
she wondered.
When will he feel anything but anger? When will it all be over? This will only be the end. Will Mother guess the truth? I shouldn't think of it. I'm doomed to die.

Hassanein was strained and agitated, overcome with awe, anger, and despair.
How will this ordeal end?
he wondered.
And how will I come out of it? Will the curtain really fall on this affair, will no rank smell rise from it to make all this labor futile? I feel as if I'm being choked. One can never wipe out the past; it goes on with the future. Why can't we be different? Everything is finished and there is no need to think about it, no need at all. Such torment! How to overcome my misery? Wait. I'm driving her to her death, and she knows it. Will she have enough courage to do it? Sure, she's absorbed in her thoughts. But what is she thinking about? I shouldn't think of her. Death is the right end for her. Our eyes shouldn't meet; it would be too intolerable for both of us.

“This has to do with your sister.” Oh! Damn the officer. “I'm sorry to tell you this, but she was arrested in a certain house in Al Sakakini.”

Who would ever have dreamed of this? Death is not an end but the beginning of further misery that awaits me at home. When shall I free myself from such thoughts?

What chimney is this? Perhaps a factory chimney. We're approaching Abu al-Ila Bridge. The chimney sends forth black, thick smoke. Were my thoughts or my breath to fume, I would send forth much filthier smoke. “I don't want any harm to come to you because of me.” Right you are. You must perish alone. When will we come to the end of the road?

The taxi crossed the bridge. Strong gusts of cold, humid air, full of the fragrance of the Nile, gushed inside the taxi. Like a man scorched in a blazing fire, the young man welcomed the
breeze, but it sent a shudder down Nefisa's spine, arousing a mysterious fear in her heart, until she finally gave way to her former state of resignation, immobility, and despair. The taxi doubled its speed. As it reached the neighborhood of the Imbaba Bridge, it gradually slowed down. As the driver turned inquiringly to Hassanein, he ordered him in a low voice to stop, paid the fare, and got out. She left by the opposite door, and the taxi departed.

Now brother and sister were alone, close to the entrance of the bridge. Lamps on either side of the bridge pierced the darkness with a strong light, and distant lamps twinkled faintly along the banks of the Nile, engulfed as it was north and south in the gloom, the rows of trees on either side of the river appearing like gigantic apparitions. The place was almost deserted, with only an occasional passerby. The branches moaned against the cold wind; the trees whispered when the breeze fell. Shocked into immobility, they stood quietly. He glanced secretly at her, and saw that her head was lowered and her back a little hunched, but the sight of her stirred no feelings of pity in his hardened, merciless heart. Suddenly exasperated by his own inaction, he spoke to her roughly. “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” she answered in a strangely curious voice.

Her simple answer cut deep into his soul. He could stand still no longer and moved off with a heavy step. Before he had gone an arm's length from her, he heard her beg him, “Don't remember the harm I've done.”

Taking wide strides like a fugitive, he replied in a gruff voice, “May God have mercy on all of us.”

He left her alone in front of the bridge and walked toward the pavement extending to the right along the bank of the Nile. He quickened his pace. He felt an urge to escape, but an all-encompassing power held him back. His resistance collapsed near the huge trunk of a willow tree about thirty meters off the beginning of the pavement. Overcome with fatigue, he hid
behind it. Like a monster sinking its teeth into the flesh of its prey, the bridge appeared to him as a solid mass, sparkling in the light of its lamps, obstinate and determined to link both sides of the Nile. At the entrance of the bridge facing him, he watched her move with unusual heaviness and rigidity, her head cast down as if she were walking in her sleep. Observing her clearly under the bright lights, his eyes were fixed on the illuminated side of her face, as she continued step by step to the middle of the bridge, where she halted. She raised her head and cast her eyes about her. Turning to the rail, she looked down at the swift, tumultuous water underneath. Breathless, he continued to watch her. At this moment, two men appeared at the farther end of the bridge. Busily conversing, they crossed the bridge quickly. The tram from Imbaba, shattering the silence with its noise, turned toward the bridge. The young man briefly recovered his breath, but soon became worried and depressed. Surely others must hear the violent beating of his heart. Several moments elapsed. He thought of himself as a detached observer of a scene in no way related to himself, but only after his sense of awe had displaced his anger and exasperation. In a turmoil of conflicting thoughts, he felt perplexed, like a man faced with an abstruse, mysterious problem who finds he cannot solve it or has no time to think about it. Now he was baffled and lost. Meanwhile, the two men crossed the bridge, the tram preceding them. The girl still stared at the water. Looking around, he saw no trace of a human being. All his senses crystallized in a fixed, terrified moment of expectation. He saw her turn her head to the right, then to the left. Suddenly she swiftly climbed the rail. Watching her movements, his heart quaked and his eyes protruded.
Impossible! Not this
…he thought. She had thrown herself into the water. Rather, she did nothing to stop herself from falling. Her protracted scream sounded like a groan, conjuring up the image of death for anyone unlucky enough to hear it. His own cry of terror was submerged in her last, piercing scream. As he watched her drown, he felt he could find the
solution to the abstruse problem which perplexed him, a solution different from the one she had chosen.
There might have been another solution,
he thought. His cry sounded like an attempt to redress his mistake, but the cry vanished. As he heard her body tumble into the water, he gave another cry.

He leapt to the sloping bank, his eyes staring at the spot under the bridge where her body had disappeared. Uncertain what to do, or what he wanted, he remained transfixed, staring. In a few moments, he thought that perhaps her body would float up to the surface of the water, but then he realized that the rushing current under the bridge must have carried her away. Perhaps her body was being tossed under the bridge; perhaps it was sinking in the river beyond the bridge. Although the thought occurred to him to take off his clothes and jump into the water in an attempt to save her life, he remained motionless. More immobile than before, he thought how bitterly ironic it was. Had his reason ceased to control his mind? He was taken aback by a voice behind him.

“Did you hear a scream?” someone shouted wildly.

Turning around, he saw a policeman, obviously concerned.

“Yes,” he answered in surprise. “Perhaps someone is drowning.”

In the darkness, the policeman gazed at the surface of the river, then walked quickly toward the bridge. His presence brought Hassanein back to an awareness of where he was, and he withdrew to his place behind the tree. But he was unable for long to control himself, and rushed toward the bridge, crossed it, and reached the rail overlooking the other side of the river. He glanced down at the swift current. Others were aware of the accident. A swift boat was moving from the left bank to the middle of the river. He heard screams and cries for help from the farther bank. Beyond the bridge the surface of the river was illuminated by the reflected images of the lamps. His eyes searching the surface, he failed to see anything.

Carried by the current, the boat left the illuminated area, headed into the darkness.
Could the boat win this race against death?
he wondered. Either he couldn't recognize his true feelings or perhaps his concentration on the boat was an attempt to escape from his thoughts. The boat stopped, and amid the noisy voices of the occupants, someone jumped into the water. This was the decisive moment. His heart quaked and his mouth was dry. In the darkness that enveloped the boat, he tried in vain to distinguish any object or make out a word in the tumult of different voices. His eyes were as tired as a blind man's; he could no longer see anything. He became aware that a crowd of people had gathered around him.

“The boat is returning,” he heard one of them say. “Maybe they've rescued whoever it was.

A shudder passed down his spine.
Did she survive or perish? Should I stay or get out of here?
The desire to torture himself to the utmost proved irresistible; he walked toward the bank which the boat was heading for. Then, too frightened to trust to walking, he began to run as fast as he could to the place on the bank where a crowd gathered. He reached it just as the boat landed, and with shaking legs approached the crowd. His limbs trembling in spite of himself, he joined it stealthily, casting dazed glances at the boat in its thin veil of darkness. Not far away, the officer of the police station, together with some policemen, stood facing the bank. Now the shapes of men appeared carrying the drowned body, as they moved from the boat to the bank.

“Did they save him from drowning?” a bystander exclaimed.

Hassanein pricked up his ears for the answer, but none of the men uttered a single word. With an effort, they climbed the sloping bank, all eyes centered upon them.

“Oh, dear!” someone cried in horror. “It's a woman!”

“How'd she drown?” another inquired.

“She jumped from the bridge,” a boy exclaimed. “The boatman's wife saw it and urged her husband to save her.”

Hassanein's dazed, uncertain eyes followed them. He found it
difficult to persuade himself that this was actually his sister; since no one else knew about it, he merely stood in the crowd like any curious stranger. When they reached the pavement, the men immediately attempted to revive her and emptied the water from her lungs. The officer ordered the policemen to disperse the crowd. But since none of them attempted to dismiss him, Hassanein remained standing in his place, staring fixedly at the hunchbacked body handled indelicately by these coarse men. Aware of his presence, the officer approached and greeted him with a nod.

“Did you witness the accident?”

Deeply disturbed, the young man came to his senses. “No,” he hurriedly answered.

The men laid the girl's body on the ground. Kneeling down by her side, one of them felt for her pulse. He put his ear to her chest, listened for a heartbeat, then raised his head.

“The divine secret,” he said, “has risen to its Creator. It's the will of God.”

An overpowering feeling of alienation, neither sadness nor relief, returned to Hassanein. His mind became stagnant, his dreadful feeling of emptiness intolerable. He stared again at the girl's prostrate corpse not far from his feet, her hair scattered, a few plaits sticking to her cheek and forehead, her face mute and terrifyingly blue with no signs of recovering consciousness. Deep furrows around her gaping mouth and eyes suggested her last tortured convulsions in this world. Soaking wet, her dress clung to her body, the hem muddy and soiled with the dust from the ground. Her shoes had disappeared; one foot still retained a stocking. As he continued to look at her face, his chest, turbulent with agitation, swelled with emotion.

Why am I so agitated?
he thought.
Wasn't I really convinced this was the best end? Didn't I
drive her to kill herself? My soul must find rest. What were her thoughts when she fell into the water? What shock to her emaciated body? What went through her mind while she was tossed by the waves? What a struggle when the mud choked off her
breathing! What terrible torture when, fighting her instinctive desire for survival, the river dragged her floating body down into the depths! The desperate attempts of a drowning woman to rescue herself are as futile as a poor man's dream of happiness. Can she see me now from the other world? Is she content, angry, or sardonic? What does she think of my situation now? Why did all this happen?

As his thoughts suddenly flashed back to his mother, the image blanked out his view of the corpse. He shook his head, determined to banish the picture of his mother from his mind. His feverish attention returned to the corpse. In spite of himself, he remembered the girl's kindness to him, how she loved him, how generously she treated him. She would never have imagined losing her life at his hands. Desperately tired, he wondered again, fearfully:
Why did all this happen?
Unable to bear the sight of the corpse any longer, he closed his eyes. His head was feverish. Sorrow crushed his interest in life. The world seemed as void as her blue face.
God, I'm finished!
he thought with a deep sigh.

He heard the officer instructing the witnesses to accompany him to the police station, as the corpse was carried to the other side of the street. His eyes followed the group until they disappeared in the darkness. Less than two minutes later, he found himself alone, amid the rustling trees whose twisted, coarse branches almost covered the whole area. His limbs hanging loose, he staggered backward. Leaning against a tree trunk, he fell into a kind of somnolence, as if he were falling into a dim, hopeless abyss.
I'm finished,
he thought.
Since misery plagues us all, none of us has the right to make his brother miserable. What have I done? In despair, I did what I did, imposed my stern punishment upon her. What right did I have to do it? Was I really avenging the honor of our family? But I'm the worst of them all, as everybody knows. And if this world is ugly, I'm the ugliest part of it. I've always wished to destroy those around me. How then, as the worst of the culprits, could I appoint myself a judge to pass verdicts on others? I'm finished!

He looked around in fear and perplexity.
Where can I go? Can
I survive this ordeal as I've survived so many others? Hopes and delusions be damned! What do I care! Well, how can I help it? Rather, being what I am, I should go away, seek happiness in oblivion.
He laughed bitterly.
How mercilessly I torture myself. But the dreadful past has devoured the present, and the past was nothing but myself Burdened as I am, can I carry on with life? I can't. I could have loved life until the very end, regardless of the circumstances. But I don't understand what it is that is so essentially wrong with our nature. I'm done for.

He stood erect, tired of leaning against the trunk, perhaps impelled by a fresh motive. Sick at heart and wanting only to escape, he walked off with a farewell glance at the spot where she had drowned herself. He remembered their words: “I don't want any harm to come to you because of me.” “This is God's will.” “The decree of Satan.” “The Nile.” “All right.” “And if you get scared—” “No, life to me is more dreadful than death.” “Are you ready?”

What was the officer thinking about him now? Where was Lieutenant Hassanein when it happened? Did he send an apology, make any excuses? I saw his face immediately after we took the corpse out of the water. I asked him if he saw the accident, but he was too astounded to reply.

Hassanein reached the same place on the bridge. He climbed the rail, looking down into the turbulent waters. Driving all other thoughts from his mind, he made his decision.

If this is what you want, so be it! I won't scream. For once, let me be courageous. May God have mercy upon us.