Midaq Alley

23

"I won't return to the cafe, so no one will be suspicious…" That was what he had said when they had parted, and Hamida, on the morning following their meeting in Darasa Street, remembered his words. She felt full of life and happy at the thought of him. She wondered whether she ought to meet him today. Her heart immediately answered, "Yes," but she felt obstinately, "No, he must first come back to the cafe." And so she refrained from going out at her usual time. She crouched behind her window waiting to see what would happen.

The sun set and night spread its wings. Soon she saw the man coming up the alley, his eyes fixed on the gap in the shutters of her window. On his face she could see a slight smile of resignation as he sat in his usual chair. As she watched him she felt the delights of victory and revenge for the way he had punished her by appearing unexpectedly in Mousky. Their eyes met and stayed fixed on one another for a long time. She neither looked away nor moved. His smile broadened and she smiled too, although she was unaware that she did. What could he want? The question seemed idle to her, for she could see only one reason for his continuous pursuit of her. The same thing that Abbas wanted earlier and Salim Alwan too before fate struck him down. Why shouldn't this fine young man be after the same goal? Why else would he say, "Aren't you on this earth to be taken? And I'm just the one to take you!" What could this possibly mean if not marriage? There seemed to be no obstacle in the way of her dreams, for her ungovernable vanity gave her a feeling of power and enormous self-confidence. So she remained looking out at him from behind the shutters, returning his intense looks without shyness or hesitation. His eyes spoke to her with depth and feeling, sharpening all her senses and igniting all her instincts. Perhaps it was this strange and deep feeling that she had experienced without even knowing it when their eyes met that first time and he smiled at her victoriously. She was drawn to him as she had always been drawn by a challenge to battle. The truth was that his eyes revealed a great deal of herself. She had always wandered aimlessly through life and her confusion persisted before Abbas' humble gaze and the great wealth of Salim Alwan. She felt, however, that this man had been searching for her, and this excitement and attraction drew her nearer to him. She felt drawn like the needle of a compass to the poles. She also knew that he was not just a penniless beggar who would make her endure want and poverty; his appearance and his bank notes proved that. Her eyes remained fixed on him, reflecting desire and delight. She did not move from her position until he left the cafe, bidding her goodbye with a faint smile. Her eyes followed him as he went down the alley and she murmured as though in farewell, "Tomorrow."

On the following afternoon she left the house, her heart filled with anticipation, desire for battle, and delight with life. She had scarcely left Sanadiqiya Street when she saw him standing some distance away at the junction of Ghouriya and New Street. A light gleamed in her eyes and she felt strange, obscure sensations stirring within her, that mixture of pleasure and a bestial desire to fight. She imagined he would follow her when she passed him until they were alone together in Darasa Street. So she went slowly on, feeling no anxiety or shyness, and approached him as though she had not noticed he was there. However, as she passed him something completely unexpected happened. He walked beside her and, with indescribable boldness, stretched out his arm and gripped her hand. Paying no attention to the people walking by or standing about, he said quietly, "Good evening, my darling."

She was taken unaware and tried vainly to release her hand but was afraid if she tried again she would attract too much attention and so she boiled with frustration. She was in a dilemma. If she were to release her anger, there would be a disgraceful scandal and the whole affair would come to an end. If she were to give way, she would hate him because he had forced himself upon her and defeated her. Fury filled her as she hissed, trembling with emotion, "What do you think you are doing? Let go of my hand at once!"

Walking at her side as though they were two friends out for a stroll together, he replied quietly, "Patience, patience… friends shouldn't fight."

Seething with rage, she stuttered, "But the people, the street…"

"Don't worry about the people of this street. They are all interested only in money. You wouldn't find a thing in their minds except bills. Come on, let's go over to a goldsmith's so that I can select something to match your beauty."

Her rage increased at his lack of concern and she said threateningly, "Are you trying to show that nothing bothers you?"

"I didn't intend to annoy you," he replied quietly, still smiling. "I was just waiting for you so that we could walk together. Why are you angry?"

Still irritated, she replied, "I hate your accosting me like this, and I warn you that if I lose my temper…"

Her face showed she was serious and so he asked hopefully, "Promise me we can walk along together?"

"I won't promise anything. Let go of my hand."

He did so, but moved no further away from her and said, flattering her, "Oh, what a stubborn self-willed person you are. Then take your hand, but we are not going to part company. That's true, isn't it?"

"What a conceited oaf you are!" she spat out in rage.

He accepted the insult in smiling silence, and they walked away, with Hamida making no attempt to move away from him, aware of how she had lain in wait for him so recently in the hopes of walking with him along this very street. However, now her thoughts centered on the fact that she had forced him to let go of her hand. Perhaps if he were to try again, she would not prevent him; after all, hadn't she left her house for the sole purpose of meeting him? Anyway, it annoyed her that he should show more daring and self-confidence than she did and so she walked by his side, unconcerned about what passersby might think. She could scarcely wait to see the envious astonishment his appearance would cause among the factory girls. The thought filled her with feelings of superiority and a desire for life and adventure.

The man spoke again, "I would like to apologize for my rudeness, but really, what am I to do in the face of your stubbornness? You seem determined to punish me, when all I want is your sympathy for my sincere feelings toward you and my never-ending concern for you."

What could she say to him? She wanted to talk to him but she did not know how, especially since the last thing she had said had been an insulting rebuke. Now her thoughts were disturbed by the sight of her factory friends coming toward her. In mock confusion she exclaimed, "Oh, my friends…"

He looked up and saw the girls approaching, staring at him with great curiosity. Disguising her delight, Hamida spoke again, her tone full of reproach, "You have disgraced me!"

Pleased that she remained by his side speaking to him as one friend to another, he replied scornfully, "Have nothing to do with them. Don't take any notice of them."

The girls were very close now, exchanging meaningful glances with Hamida, who recalled some of the adventures they had told her. Whispering and giggling, the girls passed, and the man continued with mischievous cunning: "Are those your friends? No, you are not a bit like them, nor are they like you. It amazes me that they enjoy their freedom while you stay cooped up at home. How is it they can swagger about in nice clothes while you have to wear this shabby black cloak. How can this be, my dear? Is it just fate? What a patient, tolerant girl you are!"

Her face went quite red, and she seemed to be listening to her heart talking. Her eyes flashed the fire of the emotions burning within her. He went on, with complete confidence: "Why, you are as beautiful as the stars."

She seized this opportunity to say something back to him. With all her natural boldness, she smiled and asked, really not knowing what he meant, "The stars?"

He smiled gently and answered, "Yes, don't you go to the cinema? They call beautiful film actresses stars."

She occasionally went to the Olympia cinema with her foster mother to see Egyptian films and now she understood what he meant. His words delighted her and her cheeks flushed.

Silence reigned for a few steps, then he asked, "Tell me, what's your name?"

Without hesitation, she replied, "Hamida."

"And this lovelorn fellow you see before you is called Ibrahim Faraj. In cases like ours, names are the last things known, usually exchanged only after the two people are quite sure they are really one. Isn't that so, my lovely friend?"

If only she were as skillful with words as she was in battle, for example. He was speaking tenderly but somehow she was unable to talk back that way. This annoyed her, for, unlike some girls, she was not satisfied with a merely negative role. Her nature craved something more than waiting in humble silence. Since she found it so difficult to express her obscure feelings, her emotional stress increased and all she could do was stare at him. To add to her frustration they were approaching the end of the street. She had lost track of the time and suddenly ahead was Queen Farida Square. Hiding her regrets, she said, "Now we will go back."

"Go back?" he answered in astonishment.

"This is the end of the road."

"But the world doesn't come to an end with Mousky Street," he protested. "Why can't we stroll around the square?"

"I don't want to be late, as my mother will be worried."

"If you'd like, we can take a taxi and cover a great distance in a few seconds," he pointed out temptingly.

A taxi! The word rang strangely in her ears. In her whole life she had only ridden in a horse-drawn carriage and the magic of the word "taxi" took time to die away. But how could she possibly ride in a taxi with a strange man? She was overcome by a powerful desire for adventure. She was amazed at her capacity for reckless adventures, and it was difficult to say what most influenced her thoughts at this moment, whether it was the man who so stirred her or the adventure itself. Perhaps the two were really one. She glanced at him looking cunningly in her direction, a trace of that infuriating smile of his on his lips. Her feelings changed abruptly. "I don't want to be late."

Slightly disappointed, he asked, trying to appear sad, "Are you afraid?"

"I'm not afraid of anything," she replied indignantly, her anger increasing.

His face lit up, as though now he understood many things. Gaily he said, "I'll call a taxi."

She made no objection and fixed her gaze on the approaching taxi. It stopped and he opened the door for her. Her heart pounding, and clutching her cloak, she bent down and entered. The man followed her, saying to himself delightedly, "We have saved ourselves two or three days groundwork already." Hamida heard him say, "Sharif Pasha Street." Sharif Pasha! Not Midaq Alley, or Sanadiqiya, Ghouriya, or even Mousky, but Sharif Pasha Street! But why this particular street?

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"We will have a little run around and then go back," he said, his shoulder touching hers.

The taxi started and she tried to forget everything for a while, even the man sitting so close to her. Her eyes were bewildered by the dazzling lights as a splendid, laughing new world appeared through the windows. The movement of the taxi had an effect on both her mind and her body and a delightful feeling of intoxication stole over her. She seemed to be riding in an airplane, high, high above everything. Her eyes shone with delight and her mouth dropped open.

The taxi moved slowly, making its way through the sea of carriages, motorcars, trams, and people. Her thoughts traveled with it. Now her willpower deserted her and her emotions were as intoxicated as her heart, her blood, and all her feelings danced within her. She was suddenly aware of his voice whispering in her ear, "Just look at the fine ladies in their superb clothes!" Yes, they were swaying and dancing along like luminous stars… how beautiful they were, how wonderful.

Only now did she remember her own old cloak and slippers and her heart sank. She woke from her sweet dream as though at the sting of a scorpion. She bit her lips in annoyance and was overcome by a fighting spirit of rebelliousness. She noticed he had snuggled close to her, and she began to sense the effect of his touch creeping over her. This enraged her, and she pushed him away more forcibly than she intended. He glanced at her to see what was the matter and then took her hand and gently placed it between his own. He was encouraged by her permissiveness and searched for her lips with his mouth. She seemed to resist and drew her head back slightly. However, he did not find this a sufficient restraint and pressed his lips to hers. She trembled violently and felt an insane desire to bite his lips until they bled. The same insane desire, indeed, as whenever she got into a fight. However, he drew away before she could obey her instinct. Rage burned within her, urging her to throw herself at him and dig her nails into his neck, but suddenly she was soothed by his polite voice. "This is Sharif Pasha Street… and that's my house a little way ahead. Would you like to see it?"

Her nerves on edge, she looked where he pointed and saw several blocks of skyscraper apartments, and she had no idea which one he meant. He told the driver to stop and said to her, "It's in this building…"

She could see a towering building with an entrance wider than Midaq Alley. Turning away from it in bewilderment, she asked almost inaudibly, "Which floor is it on?"

"The second," he replied, smiling. "You won't suffer any hardship by condescending to visit it."

She shot him a critical, angry look and he went on: "How quickly you get angry! Well, anyway, do let me ask you why it would be wrong. Have I not visited you many times since I first saw you? Why can't you visit me, just once?"

What did the man want? Did he think he had fallen on easy prey? Had the kiss she had permitted given him an appetite for better, more dangerous things? Had his conceit and self-confidence blinded him? And was it love that made her lose her senses? Fury flamed within her, and she gathered all her strength for the challenging battle ahead. She wished she could obey her instinct to go wherever he wished just to show him how mistaken he was and bring him back to his senses. Yes, her rebellious nature told her to plunge straight onto the battlefield. Could she possibly make the challenge and then refuse to accept it? What angered her were not the moral issues involved or her shyness; these could never infuriate her. No, what hurt was the slight to her pride and her belief in her own strength and her uncontrollable desire to use insulting language and have a good fight. Indeed, the desire for adventure which had led her to enter the taxi was still with her. The man looked at her closely, saying to himself thoughtfully, "My darling girl is that dangerous type that explodes when touched. I must be very careful in handling her."

He spoke again, politely expressing his hope: "I would very much like to offer you a glass of lemonade."

"Just as you wish," she muttered, looking at him in a stern and challenging fashion.

He stepped from the taxi, very pleased with himself. She followed boldly with apparent indifference and stood examining the building while he paid the driver. Her thoughts recalled the alley she had just left, and she felt amazed at the unexpected adventure that brought her to this massive building. Who would ever believe it? What would Radwan Hussainy say, for example, if he were to see her entering this apartment block? A smile played over her lips, and she had a strange feeling that today was certain to be the happiest one in her whole life.

The man hurried to take her by the arm and they entered the building together. They walked up a wide staircase to the second floor and turned into a long corridor until they stopped at the door of an apartment on the right. The man drew out a key from his pocket and unlocked the door, saying to himself, "I've saved at least another day or two!" He pushed the door open wide for her and she went in, while he followed, locking the door behind them. She found herself in a long hall with rooms leading off on both sides and lit by a strong electric light. The apartment was not empty, for besides the light that was on when they entered she could hear sounds from behind one of the closed doors; people were talking, shrieking, and singing inside.

Ibrahim Faraj went to the door opposite the entrance, pushed it open, and asked her to come in. She found herself in a medium-sized room furnished with leather-covered couches somewhere between armchairs and sofas in shape. In the middle was an embroidered rug. Facing the door inside the room a mirror stretched to the ceiling above a long table with gold-painted legs. He was delighted to see the look of amazement in the girl's eyes and he now spoke to her gently: "Do take off your cloak and sit down."

She chose a chair and, without taking off her cloak, leaned back enjoying the comfortable cushions. In a tone of warning, she murmured, "I must not be too late…"

He went to an elegant table in the middle of the room on which a thermos flask stood and poured iced lemonade into two cups. He handed one to her, saying, "Oh, the taxi will take you back in a couple of minutes."

They both drank and he then put the cups back on the table. While he was doing this Hamida gazed at him closely. She appraised his tall, slim body, and her eyes rested for a long time on his hands, noting with astonishment how beautiful they were. They were delicate and graceful; the long fingers gave an impression of strength as well as beauty. They had a strange effect on her, giving her a sensation she had never before experienced. He stood looking down at her, smiling gently as though trying to give her reassurance and courage. The fact was, however, that she felt no trace of fear, although her nerves were tingling with anticipation, apprehension, and excitement. She remembered the voices she heard when they entered the apartment and she was amazed that she had forgotten them till now. She asked, "What's all that noise in the apartment?"

Still standing facing her, he replied, "Oh, some of the family. You will get to know them at the appropriate time. Why don't you take off your cloak."

When he had invited her to his home, she thought he lived alone, and she was surprised that he brought her to a house with people in it. She ignored his last question and sat looking up at him calmly and challengingly. He did not repeat his request but came closer until his shoes touched her slippers. Then he leaned forward toward her, stretched out his hand to hers, gripped it, and pulled her gently, saying, "Come, let's sit on the sofa."

She obeyed, and they moved to sit side by side on a large sofa. All this time Hamida fought an inward battle for the attraction she felt for this man whom she loved in the face of the hostility she felt for his thinking he could make fun of her. He moved slowly toward her until he was touching her. Then he put his arms around her waist, and she submissively permitted this, not knowing when to start resisting him. He moved his right hand up to her chin and raised her mouth toward him, searching for it slowly and carefully with his own, as though he was thirsty, drawing water from a stream. Their lips met and they remained close together a long time, lost in a dream of love. He tried hard to summon all his strength and passion to his lips to accomplish what he wished. She was in a state of intoxication, though still alert and on her guard. She felt one of his hands leave her waist and travel up to her shoulder, lifting off her cloak. Her heart beat wildly and she drew her head away from him to replace the cloak in one nervous movement. She said harshly, "Oh no…"

He looked at her in amazement to find her staring back with an expression of stubborn and defiant determination on her face. He smiled sheepishly, saying to himself, "Just as I thought, a difficult one. No, a very difficult one." He spoke quietly to her: "Please, don't be angry with me, my darling. I forgot myself."

She turned her head away to hide her smile of triumph. However, the smile did not last long, for just then her eyes fell on her hands and she immediately noticed the immense contrast between his delicate hands and her own coarse ones. She felt overcome with shame. Finally, she said to him viciously, "Why did you bring me here? This whole business is absurd!"

"This is the most wonderful thing I have ever done in my life," he insisted forcibly. "Why should you feel strange in my house? Is it not your house too?"

He gazed at her hair which could be seen under her cloak and, drawing his head close, kissed it, saying, "Oh God, how beautiful your hair is. It's the loveliest hair I have ever seen."

He said this sincerely, despite the smell of kerosene that filled his nose. His compliment delighted her, but she asked, "How long will we stay here?"

"Until we know one another. Surely there must be many things we have to say to one another. Are you afraid? Impossible! I can see you aren't afraid of anything."

This pleased her so much she could have kissed him. He had been watching her closely and, having seen how his remark delighted her, said to himself, "Now I understand you, you tigress." He spoke out loud, his voice full of emotion: "My heart has chosen you and my heart never lies. Nothing can separate two people brought together by love. You are mine and I am yours."

He drew his face toward her as though in supplication, and she bent her neck toward him. They met in a violent kiss. He could feel the magical pressure of her lips pressing upon his so hard that they were almost crushed. He whispered in her ear, "My darling… my darling…"

She sighed deeply and then turned away to regain her breath. He continued politely 'in a near-whisper: "This is where you belong. This is your home. No" — he pointed to his chest — "this is where you belong."

She laughed shortly and said, "You are reminding me that I must now go home."

He had, in fact, been following a planned course and he now said in disbelief, "Which home? That house in the alley! What is there that so pleases you about that alley? Why are you going back there?"

"How can you ask me that?" she asked, laughing. "Isn't my home where my family is?"

"That's not your home nor is it your family," he insisted scornfully. "You are made of different stuff, my beloved. Why, it's nothing less than sinful for a lively, healthy, blooming body to live in a graveyard of decaying bones. Didn't you see all the beautiful women strolling along in their fine clothes? You are more beautiful and enchanting than any of them, so why shouldn't you strut about like them, wearing fine clothes and jewelry? God has sent me to you to restore your precious jewel of a self, your stolen rights. That's why I say this is your house." His words played on her heart like the strings of a violin. Her mind had become almost numb, her eyelids half closed, and a dreamy look came into her eyes. However, she was still capable of asking herself what he meant. All this her heart yearned for, but how to achieve these hopes and dreams? Why didn't he explain what he wanted and what his intentions were? He was certainly expressing all her hopes, dreams, and desires as if she had stated them herself. His words revealed to her what had been obscure and hidden, giving form to it all, so that she could almost see everyting she desired before her eyes. There was only one thing he did not mention, or even hint at, for that matter. She fixed her bold, beautiful eyes on him and asked, "What exactly do you mean?"

The man realized he was now entering a difficult phase of his planned course. He gazed at her in a seductive and charming manner and said, "I mean that you should stay in a house more suitable for you and that you should enjoy the finest things life has to offer."

"I don't understand," she said, laughing, in a state of bewildered confusion.

He gently smoothed her hair, taking refuge in silence while he collected his thoughts. Then he said, "Perhaps you are wondering how I can possibly want you to stay in my house. Let me ask you, in my turn, why you should go back to the alley. To wait, like all those other poor girls until one of the wretched alley men is kind enough to marry you, to enjoy your beauty in its bloom and your glorious youth and then cast you out in the garbage can? I know I'm not talking to one of those empty-headed girls. I know for sure that you are a very rare girl indeed. Your beauty is exquisite, but it is only one of your many gifts. You are daring personified. When someone like you wants something, you just have to say, 'So be it,' and so it is."

Her color faded and the lines of her face were set. Angry now, she said, "This is just flirting and you should not flirt with me. You started off joking and you now seem almost serious!"

"Flirting! Oh no, by God, I respect you too much for that. I never flirt when I should be serious, especially with someone like yourself who has filled me with respect, admiration, and love. If my guess is right, you have a big heart and will disregard all else to fill it. You cannot stand in its way. I need a partner in my life and you are the partner I want more than anyone else in the world."

"What partner?" she cried wildly. "If you're really serious, then what do you want? The path is obvious if you want to…"

She almost said "marry me" but stopped herself in time, looking at him with angry suspicion. He knew very well what she had meant, and mocked her inwardly. However, he could see that there was nothing to be gained by withdrawal at this point and went on speaking with theatrical fervor: "I want a lover and partner with whom I can plunge headlong through life, a life filled with gaiety, prosperity, dignity, and happiness; not a life of household drudgery, pregnancy, children, and filth. I want a life for us like the film stars we were talking about earlier."

She opened her mouth in horrified amazement and an awful look darkened her eyes as her face went white with rage. Fury overcame her as she shouted, her back straight, "You are trying to corrupt me. What an evil, wicked seducer you are!"

He smiled sarcastically and said, "I am a man."

She interrupted, shouting, "You are not a man; you are a pimp!"

He laughed out loud, asking, "And are pimps not men too? Oh yes, my lovely young woman, they are real men but not like others, I agree. Will ordinary men ever give you anything but headaches? Why, pimps are stockbrokers of happiness! But in any case, don't forget that I love you. Please don't let anger finish our love. I'm inviting you to happiness, love, and dignity. If you were just a foolish girl I would have seduced you, but the fact is that I respect you and have preferred to be sincere and truthful with you. We are made from the same metal, you and I. God created us to love and work with one another. If we join forces, then love, wealth, and dignity will be ours, but if we part there will be hardship, poverty, and humiliation — for one of us, at any rate."

She remained staring at him, asking herself in confusion how anyone could possibly be like this. Her breast heaved with outrage. It was amazing how, hurt though she was, she still did not despise him and had not ceased loving him for a single moment. Her emotional stress became almost too much to bear, and she stood up in one quick violent movement, saying in angry indignation, "I am not the sort of girl you think."

Doing his best to seem upset, he sighed audibly, although his businessman's confidence was undiminished. Full of regret, he commented, "I can scarcely believe I could have been so disappointed in you. Oh God, are you one day to become one of those alley brides? Getting pregnant, having children, giving birth to children on the sidewalk, with flies everywhere, only beans to eat, your beauty fading away, and getting fat? No, no, I don't want to believe that."

"That's enough!" she shrieked, unable to control herself any longer. She moved toward the door and he got up and caught her, saying gently, "Not so fast!"

However, he did not block her way. Instead he opened the door for her and they went out together.

She had arrived full of joy and fearless, and now she was leaving miserable and confused. They stood in front of the building while a boy brought them a taxi; then they got in, each by a separate door. It drove away swiftly. She was quite lost in thought. Sitting silently, he glanced at her and thought it wiser not to break the silence. So the journey passed until the taxi arrived halfway down Mousky, where he ordered the driver to stop. She awoke at his voice and looked out. She moved as though to get out and he put his hand up to the door as if to open it for her, but hesitated and, turning toward her, kissed her shoulder, saying, "I'll be waiting for you tomorrow."

She drew away from the door, saying angrily, "Oh no!"

Opening the door, he repeated, "I'll be waiting for you tomorrow my darling, and you will come back to me."

Then, as she left the taxi, he said, "Don't forget tomorrow. We will start a wonderful new life. I love you… I love you more than life itself."

He watched her as she walked quickly away, a sardonic smile on his lips. He told himself, "Delicious, no doubt about it. I'm quite sure I'm not wrong about her. She has got a natural gift for it… She's a whore by instinct. She's going to be a really priceless pearl."