herself into her mother’s arms as she wished. Seconds ticked by, made heavy by suffering and anxiety. Finally, the woman, who had steeled herself, feared her resolve would desert her. She moved a step closer and bent toward them to kiss them, one after the other. She whispered, 'Never lose heart. Our Lord is with all of us'.
At that they clung to her. They were sobbing too hard to speak.
The mother left the house, her eyes filled with tears, and the street seemed to dissolve as she looked at it through them.
33
As she knocked on the door of the old house she was thinking with painful embarrassment about the alarm and distress her arrival as a chastised wife would cause. The door was located on a dead-end alley that branched off from al-Khurunfush Street. At the end of the alley there was a little mosque of a Sufi religious order where prayers had been said for a long period before the building was finally abandoned because of its age. The crumbling ruins were left to remind her, each time she visited her mother, of her childhood, when she would wait by the door for her father to finish his prayers and come to her. She would poke her head inside while people were praying. She found it diverting to watch the men bow and prostrate themselves on the floor. At times she would observe members of various mystical Sufi orders who met in the alley next to the mosque. They would light some lamps, spread mats on the ground, and attempt to establish contact with God by chanting His name while swaying back and forth.
When the door was opened, the head of a black servant in her fifties peeked out. The moment she saw who it was, her face shone and she called out to welcome the visitor. She stepped aside to make room for her, and Amina entered. The servant waited there as though expecting a second person. Amina understood what her stance implied. She whispered in a vexed tone, 'Close the door, Sadiqa'.
'Didn't al-Sayyid Ahmad come with you?'
She shook her head and pretended to ignore the servant’s astonishment. She crossed the courtyard, with the oven room in the center and a well in the left corner, and went to the narrow stairway to climb to the first and final floor. Then she passed through the vestibule into her mother’s room. When she entered, she saw her mother seated cross-legged on a sofa at the front of the small chamber. She was grasping with both hands a long string of prayer beads that dangled down to her lap, and her eyes were directed inquisitively at the door. She had no doubt heard someone knock and footsteps approach. When Amina drew near, her mother asked, 'Who is it?'
As she spoke, her lips parted in a gentle smile of happiness and welcome as though she had guessed the identity of the visitor. Amina answered her, in a voice made soft by her depression and sorrow, 'It’s me, Mother'.
The elderly woman stretched her legs out. Her feet searched the floor for her slippers. When they were located, she shoved her feet in. She stood up and spread out her arms eagerly. Amina threw her bag on the edge of the sofa and wrapped herself in her mother’s arms. She kissed her mother on the forehead and both cheeks, while the other woman planted a kiss wherever her lips landed, on her daughter’s head, cheek, and neck. When they finished embracing, the old lady patted her on the back affectionately and stayed where she was, facing the door. The smile on her lips announced a welcome for someone else as she made the assumption Sadiqa had before. Once again, Amina understood what was implied by her posture. With vexed resignation she said, 'I came by myself, Mother…'
Her mother turned her head toward her curiously and muttered, 'By yourself?' Then, affecting a smile to ward off the anxiety that afflicted her, she added, 'Glory to God, who never changes'.
She retreated to the sofa and sat down. With a voice that revealed her anxiety this time, she asked, 'How are you?… Why didn't he come with you as usual?'
Amina sat down beside her. Like a pupil confessing how atrocious his answers were on an examination, she said, 'He’s angry at me, Mother…'
The mother blinked glumly. Then she muttered in a sad voice, 'I take refuge in God from Satan, who deserves to be pelted with stones. My heart never deceives me. I was upset when you told me, 'I came by myself, Mother.' What do you suppose made him angry at a gracious angel like yourself whom no man before him was lucky enough to possess?… Tell me, daughter'.
With a sigh, Amina said, 'I went to visit the shrine of our master al-Husayn during his trip to Port Said'.
Her mother reflected sadly and dejectedly. Then she asked, 'How did he learn about the visit?'
From the very beginning, Amina, out of compassion for the old lady and to make her own responsibility seem lighter, had been careful not to refer to the automobile accident. Thus she gave her an answer she had worked up in advance: 'Perhaps someone saw me and told on me…'
The elderly woman said sharply, 'There’s not a human being who would know you except the people in the house with you. Isn't there someone you suspect?… That woman Umm Hanafi? Or his son by the other woman?'
Amina quickly intervened to say confidently, 'Possibly a neighbor woman saw me and told her husband, without meaning any harm, and the man brought it to al-Sayyid Ahmad’s attention, without understanding the dangerous consequences. Suspect anyone you like, but not a member of my household'.
The old lady shook her head skeptically and observed, 'Your whole life you've been too trusting. God alone can decipher and overcome the schemes of crafty people. But your husband?… An intelligent man going on fifty… can he find no other way to express his anger than by throwing out the companion of a lifetime and separating her from the children?… O Lord, glory to You. Most people get wiser as they get older, while we grow older and become foolhardy. Is it a sin for a virtuous woman to visit our master al-Husayn? Don't his friends, who are just as jealous and manly as he is, allow their wives to leave the house for various errands?… Your father himself, who was a religious scholar and knew the Book of God by heart, permitted me to go to neighbors' homes and watch the procession of pilgrims setting out for Mecca'.
There was a long period of despondent silence until the old woman turned toward her daughter with a perplexed, critical smile. She asked, 'What tempted you to disobey him after that long life of blind obedience?… This is what puzzles me the most… No matter how fiery his temper, he’s your husband. The safest thing to do is to be careful to obey him, for your own peace of mind and for the happiness of your children. Isn't that so, daughter?… I'm amazed because I've never found you needed anybody’s advice before…'
A smile appeared at the corners of Amina’s mouth, suggesting a slight relaxation of her anxiety and embarrassment. She mumbled, 'The devil made me do it'.
'God’s curse on him. Did the cursed one cause your feet to slip after twenty-five years of peace and harmony?… Well, he was the one who got our father Adam and our mother Eve expelled from paradise… It makes me very sad, daughter, but it’s just a summer cloud that will disperse. Everything will return to normal'. She continued as though addressing herself: 'What harm would it have done him to be more forbearing? But he’s a man, and men will always have enough defects to blot out the sun'. Then, pretending to be happy and welcoming, she told her daughter, 'Take off your things and make yourself comfortable. Don't be alarmed. What harm will it do you to spend a short holiday with your mother in the room where you were born?'
Amina’s eyes glanced inattentively at the old bed with its tarnished posts and at the shabby carpet, threadbare and frayed at the edges, even though the design of roses had retained its reds and greens. Her breast was too affected by separation from her loved ones to be receptive to a flood of distant memories. Her mother’s invitation did not arouse the kind of nostalgia in her heart that memories of this room, of which she was so fond, ordinarily did. All she could do was sigh and confess, 'The only thing bothering me is that I'm anxious about my children, Mother'.
'They're in God’s care. You won't be away from them long, if God the Compassionate and Merciful permits'.
Amina rose to remove her wrap while Sadiqa, sad and mournful because of what she had heard, retreated from her post by the entrance to the room, where she had remained as they talked. Amina sat down again next to her mother. They discussed the matter inside and out, backward and forward.
The juxtaposition of the two women appeared to illustrate the interplay of the amazing laws of heredity and the inflexible law of time. The two women might have been a single person with her image reflected forward to the
