adjusted the covers around him. Then she returned to Graham, who received her with burning passionate desire. He embraced her so hard that she felt his strong arms hurting her, so she moaned lightly, which heightened his desire, and he showered her with passionate kisses on her face and neck. She backed off lightly and said in a mellow, dreamy voice, “I’ll be back in just a second.”
He sat waiting for her on the bed. She came back from the bathroom in a little while, wearing a white robe over her naked body. She stood preening and putting on perfume in front of the mirror. John put out his pipe quickly and said in a hasty voice, hoarse with desire, “I’ll take a shower too.”
In a few minutes they were rolling in bed, naked in the soft light coming from the lamp on the bedside table. He started kissing her all over her face, hands, shoulders, and breasts. When he finally entered her, she whispered his name, which aroused him so much more that he thrust at her so hard she moaned with pleasure. She felt her whole being melting in his embrace, as if she was shedding her body and soaring high. From behind her closed eyes she caught a glimpse of colored lights shining in the dark and felt that she was close to coming. Suddenly, a vague, worrying feeling came over her. She tried to remove it from her consciousness, but her pleasure continued to seep away. John slowed down his thrusting movements little by little, and then stopped. It took her a moment to come to. She felt his big body moving away. He leaned on his knees and got off her. She extended her arms and clung to his shoulders and begged, “Stay with me.”
Hearing her own voice in the dark told her that what was happening was real. Graham withdrew more, always slowly, breathing heavily, not from pleasure this time but in agitation. He lowered his feet to the floor, sat on the edge of the bed, and turned his back to her. It took her another minute to collect herself. She got up and turned on the light and said in alarm, “What happened?”
He kept his head bowed. She moved toward him and her naked body appeared graceful and beautiful. She sat next to him and again spoke tentatively. “What’s wrong?”
Graham pushed her arm aside. He raised his head and looked at the ceiling. He opened his mouth to say something then bowed his head again. His voice came out hoarse. “Who is he?”
“Who are you talking about?” she asked as her eyes blazed with consternation. It took Graham some time to get up. She followed him and stood in front of him. He said in a louder voice, “Who did you sleep with?”
“John, are you crazy?”
He looked strange. He lit his pipe while still naked, then said with a resigned smile, “You and I are too intelligent to waste our time on accusations and denials. You’ve slept with someone. Who is he?”
“John!”
“I want to know his name.”
She fell silent until she got over the surprise then said in a pitifully fragile tone of voice, “You’ve got no right to accuse me.”
With lightning speed he slapped her on the face. She let out a loud cry. He moved away and said, “I may be old; I may be hanging on to old, worn-out ideas, but I’m not a fool. I have enough human experience not to be deceived by anyone. You’ve cheated on me, Carol. My feeling about your body doesn’t lie. I don’t understand why you’d do it. We’re not married. We don’t have to act stupidly. Why didn’t you leave me when you fell in love with somebody else?”
He was speaking in disconnected sentences while putting on his clothes and buckling his belt and placing his feet in his shoes. Once again he stood in front of her. She was still naked, her hand on her cheek. He said in a calmer voice, “I am sorry I slapped you. I’m leaving. I’ll stay in a hotel until you find another place. You’re rich now, you’ll easily find a place.”
“John!”
He ignored her and took two steps toward the door. She jumped behind him. “I didn’t cheat on you.”
“Lying won’t do you any good.”
“John,” she cried one last time and tried to embrace him, but he removed her arms forcibly. She cried, “I didn’t cheat on you. The head of the company used my body. That’s the truth. That was his condition: one time in return for the new contract. I couldn’t say no. I just couldn’t. I needed to think of my son. I assure you I haven’t betrayed you. All my feelings are with you. What I did with the man was disgusting and I almost throw up whenever I remember it. Our bodies hit each other, that was all. I didn’t betray you, John. I love you. Please stay with me.”
He had placed his hand on the doorknob. He kept looking at her as she confessed, then bowed his head forward, looking at that moment like an old, wretched man, helpless and weighed down with sorrow. As he closed the door he said, “When Mark wakes up in the morning, tell him I had to travel and that I love him very much.”
Chapter 40
The clock in the dorm lobby said it was 5:30 a.m. Ever since Shaymaa first arrived in Chicago, she had never left the building so early, but her errand this time was far away. She pushed the glass door with her hand and was immediately assailed by cold wind, laden with flakes of snow. She backed off and tightened the heavy woolen scarf around her face and put her hands, already protected with fur-lined gloves, in her coat pockets to preserve as much heat as she could. She moved fast, as if to prevent herself from hesitating. The street was dark and totally empty and snow covered everything. She dashed at top speed toward the train station, deliberately not looking around. She felt her heart pounding hard, and terrifying apprehension assailed her: What if someone attacked me now or abducted me under the threat of armed violence? She began to recite the last two Chapters of the Qur’an as she increased her speed until she finally made it to the train station. She had to go ten stations, then change trains and go another ten stations to get to the address she had memorized by heart.
The train passengers at that hour were a mix of black, Latino, and Asian cleaning crews who cleaned offices before employees arrived, and vagrants who had spent the night drinking. Shaymaa sat in a faraway seat next to the window, deliberately not looking around. She was frightened of the drunks, who didn’t stop shouting and laughing while they filled the whole car with the smell of stale alcohol. Her mind was foggy, like the surface of a mirror covered with steam, as if what she saw were unreal, as if she were dreaming. She opened her handbag and took out the small Qur’an and began to read in a soft voice, “ ‘I take refuge in God from Satan who deserves to be stoned. In the name of God, the Compassionate, the Merciful. Ya Sin. By the Wise Koran, thou art truly among the Envoys on a straight path; the sending down of the All-mighty, the All-wise, that thou mayest warn a people whose fathers were never warned, so they are heedless. The Word has never been realized against most of them, yet they do not believe. Surely We have put on their necks fetters up to the chin, so their heads are raised; and We have put before them a barrier and behind them a barrier; and We have covered them, so they do not see.’”
The effect of the Qur’anic verses on her was so strong she cried and her tears flowed, wetting the Qur’an. She turned her face away, got close to the window until she could feel the cold glass and began to whisper, “Please, God. There is no God but You, may You be exalted. I have been among the sinners, so please forgive me. I seek Your mercy, so please do not leave me to my own devices for the blink of an eye. Alive! Eternal!”
She changed trains and finished the second leg of her journey. When she left the station she had to walk a short distance to reach the center. It was daylight already. She hurried up until she saw the large sign still lit from last night: chicago aid center. She noticed on the opposite sidewalk a group of blacks and whites of various ages and some clergymen. They were demonstrating, carrying signs saying STOP THE MASSACRE AND SHAME ON THE MURDERERS.
They began to wave the signs and shout more enthusiastically, as if performing a religious ritual. Shaymaa got more worried and hastened her steps toward the door of the center, but her appearance and the veil and Islamic garb apparently heightened the enthusiasm of the demonstrators. They got more noisy, then began shouting from the opposite sidewalk, “Ruthless murderer!”
“Are you Muslim?”
“Does your God allow the killing of children?”
Shaymaa avoided looking toward them, but she was trembling with fright and raced to cover the few steps remaining before the entrance. They began to throw tomatoes and raw eggs at her. An egg passed right next to her head then exploded on the wall. Several policemen standing in front of the center hurried toward the crowd to contain the situation. Shaymaa crossed the entryway quickly and was met by a black receptionist with an
