While the top floor was crowded with male visitors, the family gathered on the lower floor, except for the mother, who was busy with Umm Hanafi preparing coffee and cold drinks. Once again the sitting room witnessed a reunion of Yasin, Fahmy, Kamal, Khadija, and Aisha for the traditional coffee hour. Khalil and Ibrahim Shawkat had been with them all day long but had gone to the father’s room shortly after he had awakened, leaving the brothers and sisters alone. Their sorrow over what had happened to their father vanished as they became reassured. Their hearts were filled with affection, and they jumped at the chance to chat and joke with each other the way they had in the past. They had felt anxious until they had seen their father with their own eyes. They had gone to him, one after the other, kissed his hand, and prayed he would have a long and peaceful life. Then they had left his room with military order and discipline.
Although the father had merely held his hand out to Yasin, Fahmy, and Kamal without saying a word, he had smiled at Khadija and Aisha, asking them tenderly how they were doing and if they were in good health. They had been treated to this tenderness only after they got married. Kamal had noticed it with delighted astonishment, as though he were the recipient. In fact, Kamal was the happiest of anyone whenever his sisters visited. On those occasions he enjoyed a profound happiness tarnished only by anticipation of the visit’s end. The warning would come when one of the men, Ibrahim or Khalil, stretched or yawned. Then he would say, 'It’s time for us to leave'. The phrase was a command to be obeyed, not rejected.
Neither of Kamal’s sisters was gracious enough, even once, to tell her husband, for example, 'You go. I'll join you tomorrow'.
In time, Kamal became accustomed to the strange bond linking his sisters to their husbands and accepted its authority. He contented himself with their short visits every now and then and rejoiced without longing for more. Yet he could not keep himself from asking wishfully sometimes, 'Why don't you return and live here the way you used to?'
His mother would quickly reply, 'May God spare them the evil of your good wishes'.
The most amazing thing he had noticed about their married life was the bizarre change that had befallen their bellies and the attendant symptoms, which seemed as frightening as a disease and as exotic as legends. He had learned some new concepts, like pregnancy and cravings, and associated ones like vomiting, malaise, and the consumption of pellets of dry clay… So what was the matter with Aisha’s belly? When would it stop growing? It looked like an inflated waterskin. Khadija’s belly too appeared to be undergoing the same transformation. If Aisha with her ivory complexion and golden hair craved mud, what would Khadija crave? As it turned out, Khadija confounded his fears and craved pickles.
Kamal had countless questions but was unable to elicit a satisfactory answer for any of them. His mother told him that Aisha’s belly, as well as Khadija's, would produce a tiny baby, who would be the apple of his eye. But where was this baby living? How was it living? Did it hear and see? What did it hear and see? How did it come into existence? Where did it come from? For these significant questions he received answers that deserved to be added to the lore about saints and jinn, amulets and spells, and other such matters he had gleaned from his mother’s personal encyclopedia. Therefore he asked Aisha with concern, 'When will the baby come out?'
She laughed and replied, 'Be patient. It won't be long'.
Yasin asked, 'Aren't you in your ninth month?'
She answered, 'Yes, although my mother-in-law insists I'm in my eighth'.
Khadija observed sharply, 'It’s just that our mother-in-law always wants to have a different opinion. That’s all there is to it'.
Since everyone knew of the frequent disputes that flared up between Khadija and her mother-in-law, they looked at each other and laughed.
Aisha said, 'I want you to move to our house and stay with us until the English evacuate your street'.
Khadija said enthusiastically, 'Yes. Why not? The house is large. You'll be comfortable and have plenty of space. Papa and Mama can stay with Aisha because she’s on the middle floor, and the rest of you can stay with me'.
Kamal was overjoyed by the suggestion and to prod them asked, 'Who will tell Papa?'
Fahmy shrugged his shoulders and said, 'You both know perfectly well that Papa will not agree'.
'But he likes to go out at night, and he'll be exposed to interference from the soldiers,' Khadija protested. 'What criminals they are! To lead him off in the dark and make him carry dirt… My head spins whenever I think about it'.
Aisha said, 'I waited for my turn to kiss his hand so I could examine him from head to toe, to reassure myself. My heart was pounding and my eyes were blinking away tears… God’s curse on those dogs, the bastards'.
Yasin smiled. Winking at Kamal, he cautioned Aisha, 'Don't insult the English. They have a friend among us'.
Fahmy observed sarcastically, 'Perhaps it would amuse Papa to know that the soldier who captured him last night was just one of Kamal’s buddies'.
Smiling at Kamal, Aisha asked, 'Do you still love them after what they've done?'
Blushing from embarrassment and confusion, Kamal stammered, 'If they had known he was my father, they wouldn't have harmed him'.
Yasin could not keep himself from laughing so loudly he had to put a hand over his mouth. He looked up at the ceiling warily, as though afraid the sound of his laughter might reach the upper story. Then he said mockingly, 'What you ought to say is: If they had realized that Kamal was Egyptian they would not have tormented Egypt and the Egyptians. They just don't know any better'.
Khadija said fiercely, 'You should leave this talk to someone else… Are you denying that you have befriended them too?' She addressed Kamal in as biting a tone: 'Will you be brave enough to perform the Friday prayer at the mosque of our master al-Husayn now that people know about your friendship with them?'
Yasin understood her allusion and replied with mock regret, 'It’s permissible for you to give me a hard time now that you're married and have acquired some basic human rights…'
'Didn't I have this particular right before?'
'God’s mercy on those bygone years… but it’s marriage that returns the spirit to wretched girls. Bow down in thanks to the saints… and to Umm Hanafi’s incantations and prescriptions'.
Trying not to laugh, Khadija retorted, 'You've gained the right to attack people, whether or not what you say is true, after inheriting from your late mother and becoming a man of property'.
With childish glee Aisha said, as though she knew nothing about it, 'My brother’s a man of property… How lovely to hear that… Are you really rich, Mr. Yasin?'
Khadija said, 'Let me enumerate his properties for you. Listen, lady: the store in al-Hamzawi, a residence in al-Ghuriya, the house in Palace of Desire Alley…'
Shaking his head and lowering his eyes, Yasin recited, 'And from the evil of the envious person when he envies…' (Qur'an, 113:5)
Khadija continued her comments without paying any attention to his interruption: 'And valuables like jewelry and coins worth even more than the real estate'.
Yasin cried out with genuine sorrow, 'That all disappeared, by your life. Stolen. That son of a bitch stole them. Father asked him if she had left jewelry or money, but the thief said, 'Search for yourselves. God knows I paid her expenses during her illness from my own money.' What a man! His 'own money'… that son of a washerwoman'.
Aisha said sympathetically, 'The poor dear… sick, confined to bed, at the mercy of a man who wanted her money… without a friend or a loved one. She left the world without anyone to grieve for her'.
Yasin asked, 'Without anyone to grieve for her?'
Khadija pointed through the half-open door at Yasin’s clothes hanging on a rack. She protested ironically, 'And this black bow tie?… Isn't that a sign of mourning?'
Yasin said seriously, 'I really did mourn for her, may our Lord be merciful to her and forgive her sins. Didn't we become reconciled at our last meeting? May God be merciful to her and forgive her and the rest of us'.
Khadija lowered her head a little and raised her eyebrows to gaze at him, as though looking over the top of a pair of spectacles. She said, 'Ahem, ahem… listen to our revered preacher'. She cast him a skeptical look and continued: 'But I suspect that your sorrow was not too deep?'
He looked at her furiously and replied, 'Praise to God, I did not fall short in my duties to her. I received people
