Khan Al-Khalili

40

The family had to wait impatiently until Friday, which was visiting day at the sanitorium. Kamal Khalil decided that he and his family would go with them. Both families made preparations for the visit. Ahmad bought his brother a box of chocolate biscuits, while Sitt Tawhida, Nawal’s mother, prepared a pastry dish for which she was renowned. At noon they all went together — the three men, two wives, and Nawal — to Bab al-Luq Station and sat opposite each other, the men on one side and the women on the other. That is how Ahmad found himself directly opposite Nawal. From the very first moment he avoided looking at her. He had not seen her since that fateful day when he had discovered what had been going on between her and Rushdi, but the fact that she was sitting so close to him now brought back old memories and triggered some painful feelings. He was afraid of succumbing to his emotions, so he decided to avoid the possibility by engaging Kamal Khalil in conversation for a while and then reading the al-Ahram newspaper. However, even though he managed to avoid looking at her, the flood of emotions he was feeling got the better of him. How was he supposed to forget his thwarted hopes or the bitter anger he had once felt toward his own brother? How could he overlook the terrible disease that had converted his anger into an unstaunchable wound in his own conscience? How could he forget that at one point he had even been worried in case the girl herself got infected? He had even considered accusing his brother of exposing her to all kinds of risk. All these worries had turned his entire life into a firetrap. He was quite ready to believe what he had once told himself, “Rushdi may have a lung disease, but my disease is in the mind!”

He started wondering what kind of feelings Nawal was having now that she was sitting directly opposite him in the train. Sorrow? Shame? Wasn’t it reasonable for her to feel sad that the illness had afflicted her beloved and to pay no attention to his middle-aged brother? There was absolutely nothing unfair or unreasonable about that. But he still had to ask himself: what was the point of his own life, and how was he supposed to make use of the fact that he was healthy? He immediately began to feel the familiar sensation of being persecuted, one that was both painful and enjoyable. There was something else as well that he had to admit: he was happy to know she was there in the train compartment with him, even though he was avoiding looking at her. Why was that? he wondered. Was he testing his ability to forget and feel dismay? Or was it rather that he wanted to slake his old urge to show her how easily he could ignore her and rise above his feelings?

He came to himself for a moment and decided that it was wrong to be entertaining such thoughts when he was on his way to visit his dear brother at the sanitorium. Such was the pain he felt inside him that he found himself wishing that there were some kind of operation that could suture the wounds in the human soul as was possible with the limbs of the body.

The journey came to an end, and everyone walked along the road, their eyes glued to the sanitorium looming in front of them. Even though Rushdi had only been there for three days, the fact that he was now forced to relax and take things easy led Ahmad to hope that his brother would already be feeling better. He walked ahead of the rest of them, went into the room and looked at Rushdi’s bed. His brother was lying down. Even though he was aware of their arrival, he did not move. He received their greetings with a wan smile on his pale lips, and then they all gathered around his bed. Ahmad’s hopes rapidly faded. His brother’s appearance shocked him, and he immediately realized that his condition had actually worsened since the day he had brought him there. That confounded him, and his heart sank. Rushdi’s visitors sat down, and Ahmad put the chocolate biscuits and pastry down on a small table near the bed.

“I’m hardly eating anything,” Rushdi said weakly as he spotted them. “I don’t feel hungry at all.”

His mother kept staring at him, trying desperately not to show how absolutely devastated she was. “Don’t you like the sanitorium food, Rushdi?” she asked.

“The food’s fine, but I’ve lost my appetite.”

“Don’t worry,” Sitt Tawhida said. “This always happens when the disease is in its early stages. Tomorrow this pure, dry air will make you feel hungry again.”

Rushdi gave her a smile and then Nawal too, since she was sitting beside her mother.

“The last three nights have been dreadful,” he told Ahmad. “I keep waking up and can’t get back to sleep. The pain is much worse, and the.…”

He didn’t finish the sentence. Ahmad realized at once that he was avoiding the word “coughing.” It was at this moment that he realized that the decision to bring Kamal Khalil’s family with them had been a huge mistake. Even so, he was anxious to give his brother as much encouragement as possible.

“You heard what the lady said,” he told him. “This is typical of the first phase in the illness. With God’s help you’ll be past it in no time and then you can get well again.”

“Wouldn’t it be better for me to come home?” Rushdi pleaded.

Ahmad noticed that his mother was on the verge of agreeing to the idea. “God forgive you!” he said hurriedly. “Absolutely not. You’re not going to leave this room until you’ve completely recovered. Then you’ll be able to walk back to Cairo! Fortunately, you’re already looking a lot better.”

Kamal Khalil wanted to put an equally positive face on things. “That’s right, Rushdi Effendi,” he lied, “you’re definitely looking better.”

The boy’s mother took a closer look to see if what they were saying was believable.

“You need to be patient, Rushdi,” said his father, his calm voice cracking a little. “Be patient. May God care for you and take you by the hand.”

Rushdi said nothing, although not willingly. Ahmad was well aware of that, knowing that Rushdi was only ever convinced by his own opinions and used them alone as a basis for his actions. Ahmad was sure that if Rushdi disliked the sanitorium enough, he would not be patient nor would his stay there produce any beneficial results. That thought depressed him even more.

Just then he noticed a movement in the other bed and watched as his brother’s roommate sat up in bed. Ahmad was embarrassed because the overwhelming sadness he was feeling had made him forget to say hello to Rushdi’s roommate.

“I’m terribly sorry, Anis Effendi,” he said raising his hand in greeting. “How are you?”

“No problem!” the young man replied with a laugh. “Rushdi’s obviously eager to get out of here and leave us!”

“I’ve kept you awake a lot,” said Rushdi apologetically.

“There’s no need to apologize,” the young man replied. “I don’t mind being awake at night.”

“You seem to be a night owl,” Ahmad said with a laugh, “just like Rushdi!”

“Absolutely right! And now here comes fate to tell us we have to abandon the things we used to love.”

They all wished the two young men a speedy recovery. Ahmad’s mother went over to the table and brought over the box of chocolate biscuits. She put one down beside Rushdi where he could reach it. “Won’t you try one, Rushdi?” she begged.

He shook his head. “Not now,” he said firmly. “Later.…”

That made her sad, but she managed to put on a good front as she put the box back. Even now, she could not forget the necessary etiquette, so she went over to Anis’s bed and offered him some too.

Ahmad kept staring disconsolately at his brother, but when Rushdi turned toward him, he managed to fake a smile. He was utterly stunned to see how weak and pale his brother looked. He seemed exhausted and listless; he just lay there, a prisoner, with no interest in the outside world. He looked scared as well, and the expression in his eyes betrayed both pain and resignation to fate. Ahmad got the impression that Rushdi wanted to tell him something; so strong was this feeling that he thought that he should spend some time alone with Rushdi after his visitors had left. But then the thought occurred to him that Rushdi was going to beg to be brought home, and that made him change his mind. He clenched his fist for his brother in a show of solidarity, pretending to make light of the whole thing.

Time came to leave, and everyone said fond farewells. They all left the room, with prayers for a speedy recovery on their lips. Rushdi’s mother was the last to leave, kissing her younger son on his cheeks and forehead. On the way back she broke down, and tears welled up in her eyes. Nawal too was tearful and had no idea how to hide it. For his part, Ahmad kept his grief to himself until he got home and went to his own room. He remained optimistic and told himself that next time he would find Rushdi much improved. God, when would he ever recover that bloom, energy, and joie de vivre that he had possessed before? Would he ever again hear his brother’s touching songs, that gentle teasing and ringing laugh?

The Akif family slept that night feeling the same sorrow and grief they had felt on the night they’d parted with Rushdi. Early next morning they were all jolted awake when the doorbell started ringing. Ahmad sat up in bed. The bell kept on ringing as though no one was taking any notice. A horrendous thought suddenly occurred to him; he leapt out of bed and rushed out of his room. There he found his parents almost running toward the apartment door. No one mouthed a word, as they surrendered to whatever the fates had ordained. Swallowing hard, Ahmad made for the door, turned on the outside light, and opened it. Looking outside, he found nobody there. But the bell kept on ringing.

“There’s no one there!” he told his parents flabbergasted.

He went over to check on the bell’s battery, took off the cover, and separated the wires. Immediately the bell stopped ringing. As he closed the door, he felt tears welling up in his eyes. They all looked at each other, completely devastated.

“God protect us from Satan the accursed!” was his father’s reaction.

“Wouldn’t it be better to bring Rushdi home, if that’s what he wants?” his mother said with a sigh that came from the depths of her heart.

“My revered mother,” said Ahmad, “you must put your faith in God Almighty!”