Khan Al-Khalili

44

What had actually happened is that Kamal Khalil had been concerned about the exact nature of Rushdi’s illness. He soon shared his doubts with his wife. In order to put an end to any lingering doubts, he went to visit a friend of his in Bank Misr and inquired about Rushdi’s illness. The man told him the truth, which made Kamal Khalil very sad because he sincerely liked Rushdi and regarded him as the best possible husband for his daughter. The news hit Sitt Tawhida with all the force of a lightning bolt, and all her hopes for Nawal’s happiness vanished into thin air. Husband and wife sat down together.

“What do you think?” he asked with a frown.

His wife preferred to say nothing rather than reveal the painful truth.

“I don’t think Rushdi is going to recover from this terrible disease,” he said.

“God be kind to him!” she replied, clearly upset.

“And even if he does survive, he certainly won’t be fit for married life.”

“So what do you think?”

“I think that we have to protect my daughter’s health. She’s still young. Going into his room the way she has now done several times is exposing her to severe risks. She has to be told the truth so she won’t continue to live on fantasies or be exposed to contagion from a disease that few people ever recover from.”

“The whole thing is in God’s hands,” she replied, her tone one of sorrow and resignation.

They called Nawal in. She arrived, completely unaware of what they were about to tell her. She was looking downcast, a sign of how miserable she was feeling. Her father asked her to sit down on a chair opposite him.

“Nawal,” he said in a grave tone, “I called you here to tell you a very important secret. I’ve always known you to be an intelligent girl, and I expect you always to behave properly. You have to know that our neighbor, Rushdi, is much, much sicker than people are saying.…”

The girl’s face went very pale. Her father’s serious tone had gone straight to her heart, and she was suddenly terrified.

“What illness is it, Daddy?” she asked.

“I’m sorry to have to tell you that Rushdi is stricken with tuberculosis. As you know, it’s a dreadful disease. God’s mercy is wide; however, everyone has an obligation to take care of themselves and not to do anything rash, whatever the reason may be. Let’s all pray that our friend recovers and remember the words of God Almighty in the Qur’an: ‘Do not cast yourself into perdition by your own hands.’ ”

Tuberculosis! God in heaven! What was her father telling her? Had her beloved Rushdi now turned into something she had to shun? Had this dreaded disease really lodged itself in his warm heart? Were all their hopes dashed and their dreams shattered? She looked back and forth between her two parents, utterly bereft. Her mother realized the agonies her daughter was going through, but had to keep the knowledge to herself in the presence of her husband.

“God knows well how sad and sorry we all are,” her mother said, “and He alone can heal our wounds. But your father’s right, Nawal. You’re still very young, and that means that you’re an easy target for this disease. So let’s do what is right for both you and us, and pray to God that Rushdi may recover. God hears and answers.…”

Nawal’s father observed her expression from beneath his bushy eyebrows, trying to read what he could see and what she was hiding. “Now you surely understand, Nawal,” he said, “why we had to call you in to talk about this. I’m sure you respect my views on the matter. I’m your father, and I’m more concerned about you than you yourself are. That’s why I’m telling you that from today you cannot visit our dear sick neighbor any more. There’s no reason to feel guilty about that; no intelligent, fair person can possibly hold it against you. Whatever the case may be, I don’t care what other people say or whether or not they choose to blame me for something, as long as it makes sense to me. So what do you have to say?”

Nawal did not have the courage to say what was really going through her mind. The respect she had for her father was such that she could not argue with his point of view. She said nothing, and he had to prod her into saying something.

“I’ll do as you say, Daddy,” she replied softly.

That was all he wanted to hear. He was afraid that if they kept on talking she might reveal her true feelings, so with a sense of relief he stood up. “That’s exactly what I expected of you,” he said and then left the room.

No sooner had he gone than Nawal looked straight at her mother.

“How can this be, Mother?” she asked.

“It’s unavoidable, Nawal,” her mother replied sadly.

“How can I not visit him?” she sobbed. “How can I stay away? When someone is afraid for herself, is that a good enough reason to desert friends in their time of trial? What’s the point of having friendship or decency in this world of ours?”

She could not go on, but burst into tears. Her mother almost did the same, but she realized that, if she weakened now, she was putting her daughter at risk.

“There’s no point in anyone catching a fatal disease for the sake of a friend who won’t be any use to you if you get sick yourself. Your father wants to make sure that you stay young and healthy, and in that he’s absolutely right.”

“Okay, Mother. I’m willing to let myself be deluded by such horrible talk, but it’ll never do me any good. This illness is not the only evil thing in this world. Faithlessness is much worse. What will Rushdi think of me? Not only that, but how am I going to defend myself in front of him and everyone else?”

“You’ll tell them that your father strictly forbade you to visit him. Your father can deal with the problems, and you have to do what he says. No one can argue with a father’s right to control his daughter’s behavior.”

“You’re so unkind, Mother! I feel as if I’m going to die of grief!”

“It would be a thousand times better for people to curse me than for me to condemn my own child to perdition.”

Hot tears were still running down Nawal’s face, and her voice broke. “He’s going to hate me,” she said in a different tone. “He’ll despise me. Then, if he gets better.…”

She burst into tears once again.

“That’s your fate,” her mother said with a sigh. “What are we supposed to do? But remember, you’re still young, and there are a host of opportunities in front of you. God will heal your wounded heart. Let’s pray to God that He gives Rushdi back his youth and compensates you for what you have lost.”

“How can you be so unkind?” her daughter sobbed. “You’re cruel and unkind!”

She ran off to her own room. By now it was evening. Teary-eyed she went over to the window and looked toward the much-beloved window opposite. It was closed, and there was a faint light visible through the cracks. She could imagine Rushdi lying on his side in bed, with that gloomy look on his face, then coughing violently.

“How sorry I feel that you have to lie there helpless, Rushdi,” she said to herself, “your eyes betraying the pain you are feeling. Where have our young dreams and ideals gone, our conversations, our hopes, where have they all disappeared? O God, what wretched luck I’ve had, and what a gloomy world I live in!”

She threw herself down on the settee, sobbing uncontrollably. She kept trying to stop crying, but it was hopeless; the whole thing had totally sapped her energy. Her thoughts ranged far and wide with no focus to them. In a single instant her life with Rushdi flashed before her eyes, providing whatever confirmation she might need that fate had dealt her a cruel blow. She had noticed how sad and despondent both her parents had been as they spoke to her. Suddenly she became really scared. The only thing she knew about death was the word itself, but now here it was looming in front of her like a wild beast just waiting to pounce on her heart. O God! And now her parents were telling her not to visit Rushdi and placing themselves between the two of them with a merciless determination. Her teary face showed a frown, and she felt a cold shudder go through her entire body. Placing her hand on her chest, she felt deep down that she was as scared of this disease for herself as she was for her dear beloved Rushdi: bed rest, coughing, emaciation, and agony. Misery, despair, sadness, and fear — all these emotions hit her at the same time. Between her worries about her beloved Rushdi and her concerns for her own health and happiness she found herself being ripped to shreds. O God, hadn’t she been living a devout, secure, and hopeful life up until now? What required her to go through all this hardship and misery?

The following afternoon she returned from school to discover that her parents had changed her room; she was now in another one far removed from the window overlooking Rushdi’s. Her contact with that ray of light in her life was now forever severed.