So Khadija had gotten her way, retrieving the copper pots and pans that had been part of her trousseau, and Ibrahim had arranged a kitchen for her according to her specifications. But she had alienated her mother-in-law and severed the ties of friendship that had bound them since Khadija was in the cradle. Amina had not been able to tolerate the idea of a dispute but had waited patiently for everyone to calm down. Then she had set to work on the grande dame with the cooperation of Ibrahim and Khalil until a truce was concluded. Yet what kind of truce had it been? It was a truce that would scarcely come into effect before a new skirmish took place, to be followed by another truce. And so on and so forth…. Each of them would hold the other woman responsible. To her dismay, Amina was caught between the two. Ibrahim stood by like a neutral party or an observer, as though the matter did not concern him. Whenever he did choose to intervene, he did so listlessly, contenting himself with repeating some word of advice calmly a ad even coldly, paying no attention whatsoever to his mother's scolding or his wife's criticism. Had it not been for Amina's dedication and gentleness, the old lady would have complained to al-Sayyid Ahmad. She reluctantly abandoned that notion and set about venting her wrath by complaining at length to everyone she met, whether family or neighbors. She announced for all to hear that her selection of Khadija to be her son's wife had been the biggest mistake of her whole life and that she would just have to bear the consequences.
Smiling as though to lighten the impact of his correction, Ibrahim amended Khadija's statement: 'But you weren't satisfied to get wtiat was rightfully yours. You attacked anything you felt like criticizing, if my memory does not mislead me.'
Her hair concealed by a brown scarf, Khadija defiantly raised her head. Staring at her husband with scorn and rage, she asked, 'Why should your memory mislead you? Do you have any thoughts or concerns to burden it enough to mislead you? If only everyone else could have a memory as calm, contented, and disinterested as yours! Your memory has not betrayed you, Mr. Ibrahim, but it has betrayed me. The truth is that I did not oppose your mother's power. It was of no interest to me, and I had no need for it. Praise God, I know my duties and how to perform them in the best possible way. But I did not like to sit at home while food was carried in from outside, as though we were guests at a hotel. If that weren't enough, unlike someone I know, I could not bear 1:0 spend my whole day sleeping or playing, while another person looked after my house.'
Aisha realized immediately that she was the target of the comment and laughed before Khadija had finished. As though motivated by compassion, the younger sister commented tenderly, 'Do what you think best, and don't worry about other people or those you know. There's no reason for you to be unhappy now, for you're the mistress of your own destiny may Egypt achieve that too. You work from dawn to dusk in the kitchen, the bath, a ad on the roof. At one and the same time you look after the furniture, the chickens, and the children. The maid Suwaydan doesn't dare approach your apartment or pick up one of your children. My Lord… why all this exertion when a little would do?'
Khadija responded with a thrust of her chin, while she fought off a smile betraying her pleasure with Aisha's comments. Then Yasin commented, 'Some people are born to rule and others to serve.'
Revealing his overlapping incisors, Khalil Shawkat smiled and said, 'Madam Khadija is a sterling example of a housewife, except that she overlooks her right to relaxation.'
Ibrahim Shawkat expressed his total agreement: 'That's my opinion exactly. I've told her so repeatedly. Finally I decided to keep quiet to spare myself the headache.'
Kamal looked at his mother, who was filling Khalil's cup for the second time. He thought of his father and his dominance. His lips curled up in a smile. Then he looked at Ibrahim with astonishment and commented, 'You seem to be afraid of her!'
Shaking his large head, the man replied, 'I attempt to avoid trouble whenever I can. Your sister attempts to avoid peace whenever she can.'
Khadija shouted, 'Listen to this wisdom!' Then pointing at him as though challenging him to disagree, she continued: 'You try your best to find a way to sleep.'
Giving her a warning look, her mother said, 'Khadija!'
Ibrahim patted his mother-in-law on the shoulder and remarked, 'This goes on all the time at home… but see for yourself.'
Yasin was looking back and forth between the powerful, chubby Khadija and the slender, delicate Aisha in a way intended to draw people's attention to them. Then he said incredulously, 'You've told us that Khadija works nonstop from dawn till dusk, but where's the evidence of this toil? She looks like the loafer, and Aisha the worker.'
To ward off the evil eye, Khadija spread her fingers apart and held up her hand with the palm facing Yasin, reciting, 'And from the evil of the envious person in his envy' (Qur'an 113:5).
Aisha was not satisfied with the turn the conversation had recently taken. A look of protest was apparent in her clear blue eyes. Ignoring the point of Yasin's remark and feeling a little jealous, she hastened to defend her slimness: 'Plumpness is no longer in fashion nowadays'. Sensing that Khadija's head was turning her way, Aisha corrected herself: 'Or at least, many think slimness as fashionable as plumpness.'
Khadija commented scornfully, 'Slenderness is in vogue among women who can't gain weight.'
Kamal's heart pounded when the word 'slenderness' reached his ears. From his unconscious mind the image of a tall figure with a slender- build sprang into his imagination. His heart danced to a spiritual music inspiring raptures. A pure delight captivated him. Within that deep, calm dream he forgot himself, his location, and the time. He did not know how long it was before he became aware of a dark shadow of sadness, which frequently trailed along after his dreams. It did not arrive as an intrusive stranger or an incompatible element but flowed into his splendid dream like one of the threads from which it was woven or a melody forming part of its harmony. He sighed profoundly and then with his dreamy eyes glanced at the faceshe had loved for as long as he could remember. They seemed in one way or another to be challenged by her beauty, especially the fair-complexioned one of his sister Aisha. H e had once thirsted to drink from the place her lips had touched on the cup. He was embarrassed and almost unhappy to recall that, for he felt he should be devoted to no type of beauty save that of his beloved, even if other varieties might merit his affection and love.
'I don't like slenderness, not even in men,' Khadija continued. 'Look at Kamal! He ought to gain some weight. Brother, learning's not all there is to life.'
Kamal listened to her with a scornful smile. He was examining her body, with its folds of fat and flesh, and her face, which had become so plump that its defects were no longer apparent. He was amazed by the happiness and victory her appearance conveyed but did not feel inclined to debate with her.
Yasin responded with defiant sarcasm: 'Then, Khadija, you must like my looks a lot. Don't try to deny it.'
His right leg was folded under him while his left one extended to the floor. It was hot and he had opened the collar of his house shirt. Tufts of the thick black hair of his chest could be seen above the wide neck of his undershirt. Khadija cast a penetrating look at him before replying, 'But you've overdone it just a tad, and the fat's gone to your brain. So that's an entirely different question!'
As though at a loss for an answer, Yasin sighed and turned to ask Ibrahim Shawkat sympathetically and compassionately, 'Tell me how you survive, caught between a wife like this and your mother?'
Ibrahim lit a cigarette, took a drag on it, and exhaled, puffing out his cheeks. He thus joined his brother Khalil, who had not removed his pipe from his mouth except to speak, in polluting the air of the sitting room. Then he responded with apparent disinterest, 'I act as though one of my ears was made of clay and the other of dough. This is what I've learned from experience.'
Looking at Yasin, Khadija commented in a loud voice that showed how angry she was, 'Experience has nothing to do with it. I swear by your life with me that experience hasn't taught you this. The fact is that our Lord gave him a temperament as smooth as Uncle Badr the Turk's ice cream. Even if the minaret of al-Husayn Mosque started shaking, not a hair of his head would be ruffled.'
Amina raised her head and gave Khadija a critical, warning look until the daughter smiled and lowered her eyes as if embarrassed. Then Khalil Shawkat said with gentle pride, 'This is the temperament of the Shawkat family. It's an imperial one. Isn't that so?'
Although Khadija laughed to lighten the impact of her words, she remarked pointedly, 'Unfortunately for me, Mr. Khalil, your mother did not inherit this 'imperial' temperament.'
Amina's patience was exhausted, and she shot back, 'Your mother-in-law has no equal. She is a lady in every sense of the word.'
With a gleam in his protruding eyes, Ibrahim tilted his head to the left to gaze down at his wife. Then, sighing
