Husayn said with confident conviction, 'Travel won't end our friendship.'
Despite his lethargy, Kamal's heart pounded. He commented, 'My heart tells me that you won't be able to endure a permanent separation from your homeland.'
'That's most likely. But you'll profit from my trip by the books I send you. We'll continue our conversations with letters and books.'
Husayn was talking as though his voyage had become an established fact. Visits with this friend had been a captivating happiness for Kamal. When he was with Husayn, even silence was enjoyable. But there was some consolation. The departure of his beloved would teach him to minimize other calamities, no matter how great. Thus the death of his adored grandmother had seemed insignificant to his soul when it was scorched by the fire of his grief for Fahmy. But he had to keep in mind at all times that this was the farewell session. He had to fill his eyes with the roses and the other flowers that were tipsy with blooms and heedless of sorrow. There was a problem he had to solve: How could a mortal ascend high enough to live with the beloved or the beloved fall so far that she could coexist with a human being? If he could not find an answer, he would struggle ahead with shackled feet and a lump in his throat. Love was a load with two widely separated handles. It was designed to be carried by two people. How could he bear it alone?
The conversation raced along and branched off in different directions while Kamal followed it with his eyes, nods of his head, and words designed to demonstrate that the calamity had not polished him off yet. He had his hopes pinned on the fact that life's train keeps moving down the tracks, even though death's station certainly lies ahead somewhere.
'It's dusk. A time of dark stillness. You love it as you love the dawn. 'A'ida,' and 'pain' are two words with a single meaning. So you must love pain, even if from now on your rapture comes from defeat. The conversation keeps moving forward, and the friends laugh together and argue with each other as though none of them had ever experienced love. Husayn's laughter is full of healthy good spirits, Isma'il's of mischief and contention, and Hasan's of reserve and superiority. Husayn refuses to talk about anything but Ra's al-Barr. I promise to make a pilgrimage there one day. I'll ask what sand was trod by the beloved's feet, so I can prostrate myself to kiss it. The other two are singing the praises of San Stefano beach in Alexandria and talking about waves like mountains. Really? Imagine a body the waves cast onto the shore after the dreadful sea has sucked out its beauty and nobility. After all this, let us admit that weary vexation encompasses all living creatures. Possibly happiness lies beyond the gates of death.'
The talk continued until it was time for them to go home. They shook hands with each other warmly. Kamal squeezed Husayn's hand, and Husayn squeezed his in return. Then, saying, 'See you … in October,' Kamal set off.
At a time like that any previous year he would have begun asking h imself fretfully when his friends would return. Now his desires were not tied to anyone's return. They would still be aflame whether or not October arrived and whether his friends returned or not. He would no longer be blaming the summer months for separating him from A'ida; an abyss much more profound than time had come between them. When time was the problem, he had been able to combat it with doses of patience and hope. Today he was fighting an unknown foe and a mysterious, supernatural force. He did not know a single word of the spells or charms used for it. He could only fall back on a wretched silence until God concluded what He had begun. Love seemed to be suspended over his head like destiny, and he was fastened to it with bonds of excruciating pain. It resembled a force of nature more than anything else in its inevitability and strength. He studied it sadly and respectfully.
The three friends said goodbye in front of the Shaddad family mausion. Hasan Salim went on down Palaces Street, while Kamal and Isma'il as usual headed for al-Husayniya together. There they would part, with Isma'il going to Ghamra and Kamal to the ancient district. As soon as the two of them were alone, Isma'il laughed hard and long.
When Kamal asked him what was so funny, he replied mischievously, 'Haven't you figured out yet that you're one of the main reasons speeding up the announcement of this engagement?'
'Me?' This slipped out from Kamal, whose eyes were wide with astonishment.
Isma'il said scornfully, 'Yes, you. Hasan wasn't comfortable about your friendship with her. I feel certain of this, even though he never breathed a word of it. As you know, he's really stuck-up. But I find out what I want to. I assure you he was unhappy about your friendship. Do you remember that flare-up between you two? It's obvious that he asked her to stop visiting Husayn's friends, it's equally apparent that she reminded him that he had no right to request that. So he took this major step to get the right.'
The pounding of his heart almost drowned out his voice when Kamal said, 'But I wasn't the only friend. A'ida was friends with all of us.'
Isma'il replied sarcastically, 'But she chose you to arouse his anxiety, perhaps because she sensed in your friendship a warmth she did not find with the others. In any case, she was not just reacting randomly to the situation. She decided long ago to win Hasan. Finally she's harvesting the fruit of her patience.'
' 'Win Hasan'!' Kamal exclaimed to himself. ' 'The fruit of her patience'! These phrases are like a fool's statement that the sun rises in the west.'
With a sad heart, Kamal said, 'How little you think of people! She's not at all the way you portray her.'
Without grasping what his friend felt, Isma'il answered, 'Perhaps it happened by chance. Hasan may have been imagining things. In any case, it all worked out to her benefit.'
Kamal shouted angrily, 'Her benefit'! What do you think? Glory to God, you speak as though her engagement to Hasan is a triumph for her, not for him.'
Isma'il looked at him strangely and then said, 'You don't seem to be convinced that men like Hasan are few and far between. He offers family, status, and a future. There are plenty of girls like A'ida … more of them than you think. I wonder if you don't have a higher opinion of her than she deserves. In my opinion, Hasan's family agreed to let him marry her because of her father's immense fortune. She's a girl' he hesitated before continuing 'whose beauty is not extraordinary at any rate.'
'Either he's crazy or you are,' Kamal thought. He was transfixed by a pain comparable to that he had felt on reading an offensive attack against the Islamic system of marriage. 'God's curse on all unbelievers!'
With a calmness that masked his anguish, he asked, 'Then why does she have so many admirers?'
Isma'il disdainfully stuck out his lower jaw while tilting up his chin. 'Perhaps you count me among them,' he said. 'I don't deny that she's amusing and elegant. And her Western upbringing has provided her social graces that make her seem particularly charming and attractive. All the same, she's dark and thin. There's nothing especially seductive about her. Come with me to Ghamra and you'll see all types of beauty. They leave hers in the shade, whether taken as a whole or singly. There you'll see true loveliness … fair complexions, swelling breasts, and plump hips. If you want beauty, this is it. There's nothing really desirable about A'ida.'
'As if she were a female to be craved like Qamar or Maryam!' ECamal told himself. 'Swelling breasts and plump hips? How can you describe a spirit using corporeal expressions? What stabbing pain!' It had been decreed that he should swallow the cup of anguish down to its dregs. Since lethal blows were falling in swift succession, death would be a mercy.
At al-Husayniya they parted, and each went his separate way.
96
Over the years his love for this street had never waned. Looking sadly at his surroundings, he mused, 'If only my love for a woman were as constant as mine for this street, I'd escape many problems. What an excellent street… like a labyrinth!'
Every few meters it turned to the right or left. No matter where a person stood, he was always confronted by a curve, behind which an unknown world lay concealed. Narrowness gave the road an unassuming, familiar character, like that of a pet animal. A man sitting in a shop on the right could reach over and shake hands with his neighbor on the other side. Stretched between the tops of the stores, canvas awnings protected the street from the burning rays of the sun. Beneath them the humidity and diffused light created a dreamy atmosphere. Bunched together on shelves and benches were sacks of green henna, red cayenne, and black pepper along with flasks of rose water and perfume, colored wrapping paper, and diminutive scales. Hanging from the rafters was a decorative
