are the last person who could cause me worry. Please, tell me.”
When Hagg Azzam and Sheikh el Samman got to Souad’s apartment in the Yacoubian Building, they found her wearing house clothes. She greeted Sheikh El Samman with reserve and quickly disappeared inside, returning a few minutes later with her hair covered and carrying a silver tray on which were glasses of iced lemonade. The sheikh took a sip of his drink, closed his eyes appreciatively, and, as though finding the right point of entry to the subject, turned to Hagg Azzam and said laughingly, “Wonderful lemonade! Your wife’s an excellent housewife. Praise God, my dear chap, for such a blessing!”
Azzam picked up the thread and said, “A thousand praises and thanks, Master. Souad’s a good housewife and a good-hearted, righteous wife, but she’s obstinate and annoying.”
“Obstinate?”
Sheikh el Samman asked the question with feigned astonishment and turned to Souad who seized the initiative and said to him in a serious tone of voice, “Of course, the Hagg will have told you about the problem.”
“May Our Lord never bring problems! Listen, my daughter. You’re a Muslim and follow God’s Law, and Our Lord, Glorious and Almighty, has commanded the wife to obey her husband in all matters of this world. The Chosen One — God’s blessings and peace be upon him — has even said, in a sound hadith, ‘Were any of God’s creatures permitted to prostrate itself to another of His creatures, I would have commanded the wife to prostrate herself to the husband’ (the Messenger has spoken truly)!”
“Is the woman supposed to follow her husband’s orders with regard to what is right or what is wrong?”
“God protect us from what is wrong, my daughter! There can be no obedience to a creature who disobeys the Creator.”
“So tell me, Master. You want me to have an abortion?”
There was silence for a moment. Then Sheikh el Samman smiled and said calmly, “My daughter, you agreed with him from the beginning that there would be no children and Hagg Azzam is an old man and his circumstances do not allow such a thing.”
“Fine. So let him divorce me according to God’s Law.”
“But if he divorces you while you’re pregnant, he’ll be responsible legally for the upkeep of the child.”
“So you agree that I should abort myself?”
“God forbid! Abortion is of course a sin. However, some trustworthy jurisprudential opinions affirm that termination of the pregnancy during the first two months is not abortion because the soul enters the fetus at the beginning of the third month.”
“Where does it say so?”
“In authenticated legal opinions delivered by the great scholars of religion.”
Souad laughed sarcastically and said bitterly, “Those must have been American sheikhs.”
“Speak politely to the reverend sheikh!” Hagg Azzam chided her.
Fixing him with a furious glance, she said challengingly, “Everyone had better be polite.”
The sheikh intervened in a conciliatory tone, saying, “God protect us from His anger! Souad, my daughter, don’t let your temper get the better of you. I’m not discussing the matter on the basis of my own opinion, God forbid. I’m simply passing on to you a well-regarded legal point of view. Some reliable jurisprudents have affirmed that aborting the fetus before the third month should not be considered murder, if there are extenuating circumstances.”
“So if I abort myself it won’t be a sin? Who could say such a thing? There’s no way I could believe you even if you swore on the Qur’an!”
At this Hagg Azzam stood up, went over to her, and shouted angrily, “I’m telling you, be polite when you speak to the reverend sheikh!”
Souad rose and shouted, waving her arms, “What reverend sheikh? Everything’s clear now. You’ve paid him off to say a couple of stupid things. Abortion’s okay in the first two months? Shame on you, Sheikh! How can you sleep at night?”
Sheikh el Samman, taken unawares by this sudden attack, assumed a glowering expression and said warningly, “Mind your manners, my daughter, and watch you don’t overstep your bounds!”
“I don’t give a damn for your overstepping! You’re a farce! How much did he pay you to come with him?”
“You filthy bitch!” shouted Hagg Azzam and he slapped her on her face. She screamed and started wailing, but Sheikh el Samman grabbed him, dragged him away from her, and started talking to him in a low voice. Soon the two of them left, slamming the door behind them.
Souad saw them off with abuse and curses. She was shaking with anger at what Sheikh el Samman had said and at Azzam, who had struck her for the first time since they had gotten married. She could still feel the pain of the slap on her face and she made up her mind to get her own back. All the same she felt a secret relief that she had reached the point of open confrontation with him. Any tie that might have obligated her or embarrassed her had been severed. He had struck her and abused her, and from now on she would express her contempt and hatred for him in the clearest possible form. In fact, her ability to fight and use abuse was something new to her, as though the rancor that was in her had suddenly exploded. Everything she had suffered and that had tortured her had accumulated and now the time had come for a reckoning. Now she was ready to kill him or be killed by him rather than have an abortion.
When she had calmed down a little, she asked herself why she cared that much about her pregnancy. She was of course religious, and abortion was a sin, and she was also terrified of the operation itself because many women died during it. All these were genuine considerations, but they were secondary. A deep-seated, instinctive desire drove her to fight ferociously in defense of her pregnancy. She felt as though if she bore the child, she would recover her self-respect. Her life would acquire a new and decent meaning. She would no longer be the poor woman whom the millionaire Azzam had purchased to enjoy himself with for a couple of hours in the afternoon but a real wife who could not be ignored or slighted. She would be the child’s mother, going in and out with the Hagg’s son in her arms. Wasn’t that her right?
She had gone hungry, begged, and tasted humiliation, and a hundred times refused to go astray, and in the end she had given her body to a man as old as her father, had put up with his dullness, his gloominess, his wrinkled face, his dyed hair, and his flagging manhood, had pretended that she was fulfilled and that her body was aching with desire, just for him to come to her and go away again in secret, as though she were a mistress; she had done all this only to sleep on her own in a cold bed and a huge, frightening apartment where she was forced every night to turn on the lights in order to dispel the lonesomeness and every day to weep out of yearning for her son; and then, when Azzam’s appointed time came, to do herself up for him and play out the role for which she had been paid. Wasn’t it her right after all that humiliation to feel that she was a wife and a mother? Wasn’t it her right to bear a legitimate son who would inherit the wealth that would protect her from the horrors of poverty forever? God had granted her this pregnancy as a just reward for her long patience and she wouldn’t give it up at any price.
Such were Souad’s thoughts. Then she went into the bathroom and took off her clothes, and as soon as the hot water gushed over her naked body, a strange and new feeling came over her that her body, which Azzam had used and defiled and abused for so long, had suddenly been liberated and become her property alone. Her hands, her arms, her legs, and her breasts — every part of her body — breathed freely and she could feel a beautiful light pulse beating inside her, a pulse that would get bigger and grow and fill her day after day until the time came and it emerged as a beautiful child that would look like her, would inherit its father’s wealth, and would restore her self- respect and her proper station. She finished her shower, dried herself, and put on her night things. Then she performed the evening prayer and the additional extra prostrations and sat in bed reading the Qur’an until drowsiness overcame her.
