Khan Al-Khalili

22

Looking away, she turned her back on him and gazed toward the distant horizon, although she actually saw nothing. Commonsense told her that she should leave, but she did not move. An inner voice screamed at her to pretend that he was not even there and not to rush away in a panic, so she stayed right where she was, feeling both nervous and shy.

For his part, Rushdi gave a happy sigh when he saw that she preferred to stay rather than leave. “Well,” he told himself with a certain satisfaction, “we’ve hooked the fish, but now we’re going to have to be very careful how we handle it.” He had discovered that she had gone up to the roof quite by chance. He had been watching the closed window of her bedroom in disappointment, but then he had looked up at the roof parapet just at the moment when she had passed by. He had already dressed for the evening, so his innate brashness and initiative drove him to go up to the roof immediately.

Once he was sure she was not going to leave, he surveyed his surroundings carefully and found that there was no one else around. With that he walked slowly to a point close by her. His insane boldness was still working overtime, but with this girl he preferred to take things slowly because she was obviously very shy. In between the place where he was standing and the spot where she stood, he noticed a wooden pole by the wall with washing on it. A dove had alighted on it.

Looking up at the dove, he said, “Good evening, my little dove!” all the while glancing at the girl.

He smiled as he noticed her sneak a quick look at the dove. “What a lovely color you have!” he went on. “A brown that is so attractive and charming. Do you know the song ‘O my tan beauty, my life in tawny hues’?”

The girl was listening closely to what he was saying, although she pretended not to be. She liked the sound of his voice and smiled secretly to herself without it showing on her lips. Just then her shyness got the better of her, and she moved away a couple of steps and turned her back on him.

“Why do you not return my greeting, little dove?” he asked, addressing the dove again. “Why do you avoid me? How can cruelty possibly be a part of such delicate beauty?”

Now she started wondering whether it was time for her to go. Shouldn’t she worry in case the doorman of the apartment came up to the roof or some of the residents and started getting suspicious about finding them together? Why was it that she felt glued to the floor?

“Don’t you realize, little dove,” Rushdi went on, “that I am your neighbor? From now on, the merciful heavens will not be able to keep you apart from me. I shall always be where you are.”

Nawal now turned her head to look at the dove, but found that it had flown away. Meanwhile, there he was staring at her in his usual brazen fashion. There was no longer any point in addressing the dove.

“Hello!” he said quietly.

Once again she turned her head away and slowly moved toward the door. With that he moved toward her in alarm.

“Aren’t you going to say anything to me?” he asked.

Still she said nothing, although she was blushing and her eyelids were blinking hard. He moved even closer.

“Won’t you say just one word, one single word? If you like, you can tell me off or even rebuff me!”

Instead, she hurried toward the door. He moved to stand in her way.

“Get out of my way,” she said faking her exasperation. “You should be ashamed of yourself, behaving this way to a neighbor!”

“Can a neighbor be blamed for falling in love with a beautiful girl?”

“Yes!”

“But what if her beauty compels him to fall in love with her. Who’s to blame then?”

“Don’t start dragging me into conversation. Now stop blocking my way.”

But, in spite of her warning, he did block her way. She started to panic and rushed toward the door, slipping under his outstretched arm. He was not able to catch up with her. Her heart racing, she rushed downstairs and headed for Sayyid Arif’s apartment. She was neither angry nor exasperated, quite the contrary in fact. She sat on the balcony waiting for her mother to arrive, with the image of the handsome face of the young man and the affectionate tone of his voice still in her memory. She started to recall the stories her school friends had told her about the wiles of young men, love letters, and famous tales of romance. From tomorrow, she wondered, should she enact her own love story? But what kind of young man was he?

After a while, Rushdi too came downstairs, his face wreathed in smiles. As of yet, his heart had not felt any genuine emotion; it was almost as though he were playing a much-loved role. Even so, he was one of those genuine actors who get so involved in playing their part that his heart catches fire and sparks fly, in laughter or in tears. Soon after, he took off for the casino with a renewed appetite to spend an evening drinking and amusing himself.