Laughing nervously, she said, 'Bravo, son. You two differ about everything — beliefs, religion, politics but you're united against me.'
Ahmad said gleefully, 'Uncle Yasin is a favorite of yours, and you'll accord Karima the warmest welcome. The thing is that you would like a bride who isn't a relative so that you, as her mother, can dominate her. Fine … it'll be up to me to fulfill this dream for you. I'll bring you a bride you've never heard of so your craving can be satisfied.'
'I wouldn't be at all surprised if you brought home a dancer tomorrow. Why are you laughing? This devout young shaykh wants to marry into the family of a professional entertainer. So what should I expect from you, whose religious beliefs are suspect, so help me God?'
'We really do need a dancer in the family.'
Then, as though she had just remembered a terribly important matter, Khadija asked, 'And Aisha? My Lord, what do you suppose she'll say about us?'
Abd al-Muni'm objected, 'What should she say? My wife died four years ago. Does she want me to remain a widower for the rest of my life?'
Ibrahim Shawkat said irritably, 'Don't turn an anthill into a mountain. The question is far simpler than you suggest. Karima is Yasin's daughter. Yasin is the brother of both Khadija and Aisha. That suffices. Pshaw! You argue about everything, even weddings.'
A smile on his face, Ahmad glanced stealthily at his mother. He continued to observe her until she rose, as if infuriated, and left the room. He told himself, 'This bourgeois class is nothing but an array of complexes. It would take an expert psychoanalyst to cure all of its ills, an analyst as powerful as history itself. If luck had given me any kind of break, I would have married before my brother, but that other bourgeois woman stipulated a salary of at least fifty pounds a month. This is how hearts are wounded for considerations that have nothing to do with the heart. I wonder what Sawsan Hammad would think if she knew about my abortive adventure?'
155
The weather was bitterly cold and the dampness of Khan al-Khalili tn winter made it a less than ideal destination, but that evening Riyad Qaldas himself had suggested going to the Khan al-Khalili coffeehouse constructed above the site of the old one of Ahmad Abduh. Or, as he put it, 'Kamal has finally taught me to appreciate quaint places'. From its doorway, which opened out to al-Husayn, this small cafe, like a corridor with tables lining the two sides, extended back to a wooden balcony that overlooked the new Khan al-Khalili. Drinking tea and taking turns with a water pipe, the friends sat on the right-hand side of the balcony.
Isma'il explained, 'I have a few days to pack and then I'll be traveling there.'
Kamal asked sadly, 'We won't see you for three years?'
'That's right. This is one gamble I have to make. The position offers an enormous salary I couldn't ever imagine getting here, and, besides, Iraq is an Arab country. It's not that different from Egypt.'
'I'll miss him,' Kamal thought. 'He's not a soul mate, but he's my lifelong friend.'
Laughing, Riyad Qaldas inquired, 'Doesn't Iraq need any translators?'
Kamal asked, 'Would you leave home if you had an opportunity like Isma'il's?'
'In the past I wouldn't have hesitated, but not now.'
'What distinguishes the present from the past?'
Riyad Qaldas replied merrily, 'For you, nothing. For me, everything. It seems I'm soon to join the fraternity of married men.'
Astonished by the news, which came without any warning, Kamal felt anxious in a way he could not pinpoint precisely.
'Really? You've never alluded to this before.'
'No. It's come about suddenly… at the last meeting. When the two of us last met, it wasn't even under consideration.'
Isma'il Latif laughed triumphantly. Attempting to smile, Kamal asked, 'How did this happen?'
'How? The way it happens every day. A woman teacher came to visit her brother in the translation bureau. I liked her and, on exploring my prospects, found myself invited to proceed.'
Ashe accepted the hose of the water pipe from Kamal, Isma'il asked jovially, 'When do you suppose this fellow will get around to exploring his prospects?'
Isma'il never missed a chance to bring up this stale topic. But there was a more serious side to the matter. All of Kamal's friends who had tried marriage maintained that it was a cage. If this wedding took place, he would probably see Riyad only on rare occasions and his friend might change into a different person, a kind of pen pal. The writer was so gentle and tender, it would not take much to subdue him. But how would Kamal's life be possible without him? If marriage transformed Riyad as radically as it had Isma'il, Kamal could bid farewell to the joys of life.
'When are you getting married?' Kamal asked.
'Next winter, at the latest.'
It seemed that the tormented Kamal was fated to lose a best friend time and again. 'At that moment, you'll become a different Riyad Qaldas.'
'Why? … You have a fantastic imagination.'
Masking his anxiety with a smile, Kamal asked, 'A fantastic imagination? Today Riyad Qaldas is a man whose spirit always wants more while his pocket is happy to go empty. Once you're a husband, your pocket will always need more money and you'll have no opportunity for spiritual fulfillment.'
'What an offensive description of the husband! But I don't agree with you.'
'How about Isma'il, who is being forced to migrate to Iraq? I'm not making fun of that decision, for it's not only natural but heroic. Yet, at the same time, it's hideous. Picture yourself up to your ears in the problems of daily life, thinking only of how to make ends meet, reckoning your hours by piasters and milliemes. Then the poetic side of life can only seem a waste of time.'
Riyad replied scornfully, 'Imagination's fantasies inspired by fear….'
Isma'il Latif said, 'Oh, if only you would experience marriage and fatherhood…. Even today, you have no idea of the true meaning of life.'
This view might well be correct, in which case Kamal's life was a silly tragedy. But what was happiness? What exactly did he desire? Even so, the main cause of his distress was the fact that he was once again threatened by a terrifying isolation of the kind he had suffered when Husayn Shaddad had disappeared from his life. What if it were possible for him to find a wife with the body of Atiya and the spirit of Riyad? That was what he really wanted: Atiya's body and Riyad's soul united in a single person whom he could marry. In that way, he would free himself from the threat of loneliness for the rest of his life. This was the challenge.
Riyad remarked impatiently, 'Let's not talk about marriage, ['ve made my decision, and, Kamal, I hope your turn is next. Still there are important political events that demand our attention today.'
Althc ugh Kamal shared his friend's sentiments, he was unable to shake off his surprise and appeared indifferent to the suggestion, offering no comment.
Isma' il Latif said cheerfully, 'Al-Nahhas knew how to avenge his forced resignation of December 1937. He stormed Abdin Palace at the head of a column of British tanks.'
To give Kamal a chance to comment, Riyad hesitated briefly. But when his friend was slow to respond, he asked gloomily, 'Vengeance? There is little resemblance between the facts and your imagination's depiction of them.'
'So what are the facts?'
After glancing at Kamal in a fruitless attempt to induce him to speak, Riyad continued: 'Al-Nahhas is not a man who would conspire with the English in order to get returned to power. Ahmad Mahir's crazy. He's the one who betrayed the people and joined ranks with the king. Then he strove to hide the weakness of his position by making a stupid declaration and calling in the press to hear it'. Riyad looked at Kamal to see what he thought. This political discussion had finally begun to attract some of his attention, but he felt inclined to disagree with Riyad, if only a little.
