'How are you, Auntie?'
'Superb, son of Abd al-Jawad'. Then she shouted in a harsh voice, 'Girl! Nazla!'
In a few minutes the maid brought two full glasses, which she placed on the table. Jalila directed: 'Drink!.. How often I said that to your father in those sweet bygone days___'
As Kamal picked up a glasshe remarked jovially, 'It's really sad that I arrived too late….'
She gave him a punch that made the gold bracelets covering her arm jangle. 'Shame on you! Would you have wished to ravage what your father adored?' Then she added, 'But what are you compared to your father? He had already married a second time when I met him. He married young, as was the custom then. But that did not prevent him from keeping me company for a period that was the sweetest of my life. Then he left me for Zubayda, may God take her by the hand. And there were dozens of other women besides us, may God be indulgent with him. But you're still a bachelor, and even so you only visit my house once a week, Thursday evenings. Shame on you! What ever happened to virility?'
The father he heard about from her was not the one he knew personally. This was not even the father Yasin had described to him. Jalila's lover had been a passionate and impetuous man with a heart untroubled by qualms. What was Kamal compared to that man? Even when he visited this brothel each Thursday, only alcohol could release him from his worries long enough for him to enjoy 'love' here. Without its intoxication, he would have felt the brothel's atmosphere to be devastatingly grim. That first night, when fate had led him to this house, had been unforgettable. He had seen this woman for the first time, and she had invited him to sit with her until a girl was ready. When he had revealed his full name during the course of the conversation, she had cried out, 'Are you the son of al-Sayyid Ahmad Abd al-Jawad whose store is in al-Nmhasin?'
'Yes. Do you know my father?'
'A thousand welcomes to you!'
'Do you know my father?'
'I know him far better than you do. We were lovers, and I performed at your sister's wedding. In my time, I was as famous a singer as Umm Kalthoum in your gray days. Ask anyone about me.'
'It's an honor to meet you, ma'am.'
'Pick any of my girls you like. Benevolent folks like us don't bill each otier.'
So his first girl in this house had been a gift from his father. That evening Jalila had looked at his face for so long he had felt embarrassed. Only fear of being rude had kept her from expressing her astonishment, for what resemblance was there between this boy's bizarre head and amazing nose and his father's exquisite and ruddy face? During a lengthy conversation with her he had learned about his father's secret history, peculiarities, amazing deeds, romantic adventures, and hidden qualities.
'I'm so bewildered,' Kamal reflected. 'I've always wavered between instinct's searing flame and mysticism's cool breeze.'
He replied, 'Don't exaggerate, Auntie. I'm a teacher, and teachers like to be discreet. Don't forget that during the vacation I visit you several times a week. Wasn't I here the day before yesterday? I visit you whenever…'
'Whenever I'm tormented by anxiety,' he confessed to himself. 'Anxiety drives me to you far more often than lust.'
'Whenever what, my dear?'
'Whenever I don't have to work.'
'Say anything but that. Down with this age of yours. Our coins were made of gold. Yours are nickel and copper. We had live entertainment. You have the radio. Our men were descended from Adam's loins. Yours come from Eve's womb. What do you have to say about that, you teacher of girls?'
She took a drag on the water pipe and then sang: Teacher of girls, show them how To play instruments and sing.
Kamal laughed, leaned toward her, and kissed her cheek, half affectionately and half flirtatiously.
She cried out, 'Your mustache pricks. God help Atiya!'
'She loves pricks.'
'By the way, yesterday we had the honor of a visit from a prominent police officer. I'm not bragging. All our clients are distinguished gentlemen. Or do you consider your visitshere to be charitable contributions?'
'Madam Jalila, your very name means 'glorious,' and you certainly are that.'
'I love it when you're drunk. Intoxication liberates you from your schoolmasterly earnestness and makes you a little more like your father. But tell me. Don't you love Atiya? … She loves you!'
How could these hearts, hardened by the coarseness of life, love anyone? Yet what experience did he have of hearts generous with love or eager for it? The daughter of the snack shop owner had been in love with him, but he had ignored her. He had loved Aida, but she had spurned him. In his living dictionary, the only meaning for love was pain… an astonishing pain that set the soul on fire. By the light of its raging flames amazing secrets of life became visible, but it left behind only rubble.
He commented ironically, 'May you find health and love too!'
'She's only been in this line of work since her divorce.'
'Praise God! He alone is praised for hateful things.'
'Praise to Him in all circumstances.'
He smiled sardonically. Grasping what his smile implied, she protested, 'Do you begrudge me my enthusiasm for praising God? That's enough from you, son of Abd al-Jawad. Listen, I don't have a son or a daughter. I'm fed up with the world. Forgiveness is from God.'
It was interesting that the woman's conversation was so frequently interspersed with this melody celebrating asceticism. Kamal glanced at her stealthily as he drained his glass. For him, alcohol's magic effect began with the first drink. He found himself recalling a bygone age when drinking had brought him a heavenly bliss. How many of his joys had vanished…. At first lust had been both a rebellion and a victory for him. Then it had eventually been transformed into a whore's philosophy. Time and habituation had extinguished its delirium. It was also frequently marred by the agony of a man wavering between heaven and earth — before doubt had reduced heaven to earth's level.
The doorbell rang, and Atiya entered. Her body was full, supple, and fair. Her shoes and her laughter both resounded noisily. She kissed the madam's hand. Casting a smiling glance at the two empty glasses, she teased Kamal, 'You've been unfaithful to me!'
She leaned down to the madam's ear and whispered to her. Then, giving Kamal a laughing look, she vanished into the bedroom on the madam's right. Jalila punched Kamal and told him, 'Go along, light of my eye.'
Picking up his fez, he headed for the bedroom. Nazla immediately caught up with him, carrying a tray with a bottle, two glasses, and sortie appetizers. Atiya instructed her, 'Bring us two pounds of kebab from al-Ajati's restaurant. I'm hungry!'
He took off his jacket and made himself comfortable by stretching out his legs. As He sat watching her, she removed her shoes and dress. Then at the mirror she straightened her chemise and combed her hair. He loved her body, which was so full, supple, and fail'. What did Ai'da's body look like? Frequently when he remembered her, it seemed that she had no body. Even when he recalled her grace, slenderness, and brown skin, these physical characteristics took their place in his spirit as pure ideas. As for the customary kind of memories concerned with bodily attributes like breasts, legs, or buttocks, he could not remember his senses ever having paid attention to them. Today, if a beautiful woman whose only attractions were a graceful slenderness and a swarthy complexion was presented for his admiration he would not even offer twenty piasters for her. So how had his love for A'ida been possible? Why was his memory of her so firmly protected by veneration and adoration, even though he scorned all her qualities?
'It's hot. Darn it.'
'Once the alcohol gets into our systems, we won't care if the weather's hot or cold.'
'Stop eating me with your eyes. Take off your glasses!'
'A divorced woman with children,' he brooded. 'She masks gloomy melancholy with boisterous behavior. These greedy nights carelessly swallow her femininity and her humanity. Her every breath blends together fake passion and loathing. It's the worst form of bondage. Thus, alcohol provides an escape from suffering as well as from thought.'
She plopped down beside him and prepared to pour their drinks, reaching her soft hand out to the bottle, which was sold in this establishment for twice what it was worth. Everything here was expensive except women,
