Palace of Desire

81

"Good news, God willing," Ahmad Abd al-Jawad repeated to himself when he saw Yasin coming into his store. This visit was unusual and unexpected, reminding him of the time Yasin had come to discuss the intention of his mother, since deceased, to many for the fourth time. Al-Sayyid Ahmad was sure his son had not called merely to say hello, pass the time of day, or chat about some routine matter he could bring up at home. No, Yasin would not visit him at the store unless the issue was serious.

After shaking hands with his son he invited him to have a seat and said, "Good news, God willing."

Yasin sat down near his father, who was behind the desk. The young man turned his back on the rest of the shop, including Jamil al-Hamzawi, who stood by the scales weighing a customer's goods. The young man looked at his father uneasily, confirming al-Sayyi d Ahmad's suspicions. The proprietor closed the ledger in which he had been recording some figures and sat up straight in preparation for what was to come. The half-open safe was visible to his right. Above his head a photograph of Sa'd Zaghlul as Prime Minister was hung on the wall under an old framed inscription reading: "In the name of God."

Yasin 's visit to the store was not a random one but the result of thoughtful deliberation. He considered this the safest place to present his proposal to his father. The presence of Jamil al-Hamzawi and of any customers who happened to be there should safeguard and protect him if his father's wrath were provoked. Yasin still took every precaution to avoid angering his father despite the security age afforded him and the good treatment he ordinr ly received.

With great courtesy he said, "Please grant me a little of your precious time. Were it not absolutely necessary, I would not have dared to trouble you. But I am unable to undertake a step without your guidance and consent."

Al-Sayyid Ahmad smiled to himself at this extravagant display of courtesy and began to gaze apprehensively at his huge, handsome, fastidious son. He cast a comprehensive glance over him, taking in the young man's mustache, twisted just like his father's, dark blue suit, shirt with starched collar and blue bow tie, ivory fly whisk, and gleaming black shoes. In honor of this interview with his father, Yasin had altered his normal attire in only two respects. He had hidden the tip of his silk handkerchief, which usually peeked out from his jacket pocket, and had straightened his fez, which he ordinarily wore slanted to the right.

"He sayshe can't take a step without my guidance…. Bravo! Was he guided by me when he learned to drink or when he roved through the Wajh al-Birka entertainment district, which I forbade him? Did he consult me the night he assaulted the maid on the roof? Bravo! Bravo! What's behind this sermon from the pulpit?"

"Naturally, this is the least that one would expect from a reasonable person like you. I hope it's good news, God willing."

Yasin glanced around quickly at Jamil al-Hamzawi and the customers. Then he brought his chair closer to the desk and, summoning all his courage, said, "I've decided, with your consent and approval, to perfect my religious observance by marrying."

This was a genuine surprise, although unexpectedly a happy one. "But not so fast," al-Sayyid Ahmad reflected. It would be a pleasant surprise only under certain conditions. He would have to wait until he heard the most important part of the proposal. Were there no reasons for concern? Yes, there were: that introduction so profusely polite and ingratiating and his choice of the store as the setting for their talk. These warning signs could not escape an astute observer. Al-Sayyid Ahmad had long hoped his son would remarry and for this reason had urged Muhammad Iffat to allow Zaynab to return to Yasin. On concluding his prayershe would entreat God each time to grant Yasin good sense and a good wife. If he had not been apprehensive that his son would cause him and his friends embarrassment as he had with Muhammad Iffat — al-Sayyid Ahmad would not have hesitated to find him another wife. Now he would bide his time to see if his fears were to be realized.

"An excellent decision…. I'm in full agreement with it. Have you selected any particular family?"

Yasin lowered his eyes for a moment. Raising them, he said, "I have found what I was seeking… an honorable family well known to us, because we have long been neighbors. The head of the household was one of your worthy acquaintances."

Al-Sayyid Ahmad arched his eyebrows inquisitively but said nothing. Yasin continued: "The late Mr. Muhammad Ridwan."

"No!" The word escaped from the father before he could gain control of himself. It popped out in a groan of protest, which he felt obliged to justify in order to conceal the true reason for his feelingshe had no trouble in finding an explanation: "Hasn't his daughter been divorced? Are there so few women in the world that you're willing to marry a divorcee?"

This objection did not come as a surprise. He had been expecting it ever since he had resolved to marry Maryam. He hoped he could overcome his father's opposition, which he imagined would focus on the superiority of a virgin over a divorcee or dislike for a woman who might remind them of Fahmy's tragedy. He had faith in his father's good sense and was optimistic that it would ultimately dismiss these two minor objections. Indeed he was relying heavily on his father's approval to defeat the genuine opposition he anticipated from his stepmother. He was at such a loss to counter it that he had thought of leaving his father's house and marrying as he saw fit. He would elope and present them all with a fail: accompli. He could not bear the thought of angering his father, or he would have done that, even though it would have been hard for him to ignore the feelings of his second mother, who had beeu much more of a mother to him than his own. He felt he should do his utmost to sway her and convince her that he was right.

Yasin answered his father, "There are plenty of women in the world, but she's destined and fated to be mine. I'm not looking for wealth or prestige. A good family and an upright character are enough for me."

If al-Sayyid Ahmad found anything to console himself in the midst of these painful and awkward matters, it was having his undisputed opinion of his son confirmed again. How typical this was of Yasin! He was a man, or beast, who brought problems with him, whether corning or going. Had he conveyed good news or glad tidingshe would not have been Yasin. Al-Sayyid Ahmad's opinion and estimation of his son would have been overturned.

"Perhapshe can be excused for not seeking a wife with wealth or prestige, but is the girl of good character? The mule is not to be blamed, for he quite naturally appears to know nothing about the conduct of the mother of the girl he wishes to marry."

Al-Sayyid Ahmad knew about her conduct from personal experience. Perhaps other men had preceded and followed him. What could he do? The girl might be well behaved, but it was certain her mother and home environment were less than ideal. It was sad, but he could not state his opinion openly, since he would be unable to provide the evidence needed to support his views, which would presumably be received with disbelief and annoyance by anyone hearing them for the first time. Worse still, he was afraid that allusion to these matters would motivate Yasin to investigate them thoroughly. Eventually the young man would find some evidence implicating him — al-Sayyid Ahmad. The result would be a scandal to end all scandals.

The issue was delicate and awkward. There was also a sharp thorn concealed within it — the old story linking her to Fahmy. Had Yasin forgotten that? How could he overlook the fact that he wanted to marry the girl his late brother had once sought? Surely this was odious behavior. Yes, it was, although he felt confident that Yasin's sentiments for his late brother were sincere. The harsh logic of life provided an excuse for people like Yasin. Desire was a blind and merciless tyrant. Al-Sayyid Ahmad knew that better than anyone.

The father frowned to make his displeasure clear to his son and said, "I'm upset with your choice. I don't know why. The late Mr. Muhammad Ridwan was really a fine man, but his paralysis prevented him from supervising his household for a long time before his death. I don't intend this observation to cast suspicions on anyone. Certainly not! But it's something that has been said and possibly some people have repeated it. So? The most important thing with me is that she's been divorced. Why was she divorced? This is one of many questions for which you must learn the answer. It's not right for you to trust a divorcee until you've investigated everything about her thoroughly. Perhaps that's what I was trying to say. The world's full of girls from good families."

Encouraged by his father's tone, which was one of discussion and counsel, Yasin said, "I've investigated, and others have too. I've discovered that the husband was at fault. He already had a wife and concealed that from them. Besides, he wasn't wealthy enough to support two households at the same time and was of bad character."

" 'Bad character'! Who's talking unashamedly about bad character? The mule's providing you with rare material for a whole evening's worth of jokes."

"So you've concluded your search and investigation," he said.

Evading the piercing eyes of his father, Yasin said with embarrassment, "This was an obvious first step…."

Looking down, the man asked, "Didn't you realize that the girl is associated with painful memories for us?"

Seized by confusion, as his color drained, Yasin said, "It was impossible for me to overlook that, but theirs was an imaginary relationship with no foundation. I know for certain that my late brother was interested in her for only a few days and then forgot all about the affair. I'm almost positive he later felt relieved his efforts had failed, once he became convinced that, contrary to what he had imagined, the girl was not interested in him."

Was Yasin telling the truth or defending himself? His late brother had confided in him. Yasin was possibly the only person who could rightfully claim special knowledge about Fahmy's personal affairs. If only he was sincere! Yes, if only he was telling the truth, then al-Sayyid Ahmad would be delivered from a torment: that kept him awake whenever he recalled it. He was afraid he had stood in the way of his deceased son's happiness. He often worried that his son had died brokenhearted or angry at his tyranny and obstinacy. These ideas had long gnawed at his heart. Did Yasin wish to relieve him of that?

With a sorrow deeper than Yasin could have imagined, he asked his son, "Are you really sure of what you're saying? Did he admit that to you?"

For only the second time in his life Yasin observed his father wilt. The first time had been the day Fahmy was killed. Al-Sayyid Ahmad entreated his son, "Tell me the whole truth without any sugarcoating. This matter interests me more than you can imagine". He was about to admit his pain but held the confession back, even though it was on the tip of his tongue. "The whole truth, Yasin!"

With no hesitation, the young man replied, "I'm certain of what I say. He told me himself. I heard it with my own ears. There's absolutely no doubt about it."

In other circumstances, this statement, or even a more eloquent one, would not have sufficed to convince him that Yasin was telling the truth. But he was eager to believe his son. Thus he accepted Yasin's words and believed them. His heart was filled with deep gratitude and a pervasive feeling of peace. At that moment at least, the question of Yasin's marriage no longer troubled him. He was silent for a time, enjoying the tranquillity that overflowed his heart.

Only slowly and gradually did his attention return to his predicament. After being blinded by emotion he could once more see Yasin clearly. Al-Sayyid Ahmad began thinking about Maryam, her mother, Yasin's marriage proposal, his own duty, and what he could and could not say. Then he told his son, "Whether or not that's true, I would like you to treat this question with deep thought and circumspection. Don't be in too great a hurry. Allow yourself time to consider and reflect. It's a question of your future, reputation, and happiness. I'm ready to choose another bride for you, if you promise me as a man of honor that you won't make me regret intervening on your behalf. So? What do you think?"

Yasin was silent as he thought it over. He was discouraged by the conversation's awkward turn, for it was fraught with embarrassing complications. His father was speaking with amazing self-restraint, but his anxiety and dissatisfaction were apparent. If Yasin insisted on having his way, the discussion could well create a lamentable split between them. But should he retreat in order to avoid this eventuality? Certainly not! He was no longer a child. He would marry any woman he wanted. If only God would help him retain the affection of his father. Yasin said, "I don't want to impose another burden on you. Thank you, Papa. All I hope for is your consent and approval."

Al-Sayyid Ahmad waved his hand impatiently. Rather sharply he said, "You refuse to open your eyes to the wisdom of my advice."

Yasin begged him warmly, "Don't get angry, Papa. Swear to God you won't get angry. Your approval's a boon I can't bear to be denied. Let me try my luck. Pray I'll be successful."

Ahmad Abd al-Jawad realized that he would have to accept the situation but did so mournfully and despondently. Perhaps Mar-yam was an honorable girl who would be a good wife, despite her mother's wildness. But it was beyond doubt that Yasin had not succeeded in choosing the most suitable bride or the finest family.

The matter was in God's hands. He could no longer simply dictate as he saw fit, without fear of rejection. Yasin was a responsible adult. Any attempt to impose his ideas on his son would only make Yasin rebel. Al-Sayyid Ahmad would just have to give in and ask God that it would end well.

He advised and cautioned his son, while Yasin responded with affectionate apologies, until there was nothing more for either of them to say.

Yasin left the shop convinced that he had obtained his father's consent and approval, but he knew the most serious obstacle awaited him at home. He also knew he would be moving. Merely thinking of adding Mary am to that household would be a form of insanity. He hoped to leave peacefully without causing any hard feelings or resentment. It was not easy for him to ignore the wishes of his stepmother or to appear ungrateful for her affection and care. He had never imagined that fate would force him to adopt this strange attitude toward home and family, but the situation was complicated and his options limited. His only viable alternative was marriage. Amazingly, he had grasped intuitively the feminine strategy working to entrap him. It was an ancient one that could be summarized in two words: seduction and evasion. But desire for the girl had gotten into his blood and had to be satisfied by any means available, even matrimony. It was equally astonishing that although he knew as much of Maryam's history as the others in his family — except, naturally, his father this knowledge did not restrain or discourage him, for he was dominated by lust.

He told himself, "I won't worry about what's over and done with. I wasn't responsible for it. She'll begin a new life with me. That's when my responsibilities commence. I have unlimited confidence in myself. If my hopes turn out to be groundless, I'll cast her away like a worn-out shoe."

His decision had not been based on careful thought. What thinking he had done had been to justify his wild and unruly passions. He was accepting marriage this time as a substitute for the affair he had been denied. This did not mean that he harbored any antipathy to marriage or that he was using it only as a temporary expedient to attain his goal, for his soul, despite its restlessness, longed for wedded life and a stable home.

These ideas passed through his mind when he took his place beside Kamal at the coffee hour, that gathering he was presumably attending for the last time. With great regret he cast his eyes around the room with it sofas, colored mats, and large lantern hanging from the ceiling. As usual Amina was seated with her legs folded under her on the sofa between the doors to al-Sayyid Ahmad's bedroom and the dining room. Despite the heat, she was bent over the brazier, preparing the coffee. Her white scarf came down over her lavender housedress, which revealed how thin she had become. She was cloaked in a stillness at times stained by sorrow like seawater that during a momentary calm becomes transparent enough to reveal what is beneath the surface.

Yasin felt sad and uneasy as he prepared to reveal his plan, but there was no alternative. After drinking his coffee, which seemed tasteless, he said, "By God, Mother, there's a question for which I want your advice". The glance he exchanged with Kamal revealed that the latter already knew what the subject would be and was equally concerned about its possible outcome.

"Good news, son?" Amina asked.

Yasin answered tersely, "I've decided to marry."

A look of happy interest appeared in her small honey-colored eyes. "That's a fine idea, son," she commented. "You shouldn't postpone it any longer". There was an inquisitive look in her eyes, but instead of voicing her question she said, as though trying to induce him to confess if there was any secret about it, "Speak to your father or let me. He'll be able to find you another wife better than the first."

With more solemnity than his stepmother thought the subject warranted, Yasin replied, "Actually, I have spoken to my father. There's no need for me to impose a new burden on him, for I've selected someone myself. Father has agreed, and I hope I may have your consent as well."

She blushed with embarrassment and delight at the importance he was attaching to her opinion. Then she replied, "May our Lord help you obtain everything good. As soon as you want, set up house on the first floor, which we've abandoned. But who's the fine girl you've decided to take for your wife?"

Yasin exchanged another glance with Kamal. Then with difficulty he said, "A neighbor. Someone you know."

With her eyebrows contracted in a thoughtful frown, she stared off into space, moving her index finger, as though counting out their neighbors to herself. Then she said, "You perplex me, Yasin. Won't you speak up and set my mind at rest?"

Smiling wanly, he answered, "Our closest neighbors…."

"Who?" The word escaped from her in alarmed denial. She stared ai: his face. With a gloomy expression he lowered his head and pressed his lips together.

Her voice trembling, she asked once more as she pointed behind her with her thumb, "Them? Impossible! Do you mean what you're saying, Yasin?"

His only response was glum silence. She screamed, "What dreadful news! Those people who gloated over our greatest misfortune?"

He could not keep from crying at her, "I entreat you to swear to God you won't repeat that. It's false, imaginary. If my heart felt for a moment…"

"Naturally, you defend them. But it's a defense that won't deceive anyone. Don't wear yourself out trying to convince me of such an absurdity. My Lord! Why is a catastrophe like this necessary? They're riddled with defects and vices. Is there one good point to justify this outrageous selection? You said you'd obtained your father's consent. The man doesn't know anything about these matters, so you should say you duped him."

Yasin entreated her, "Calm down. I hate nothing more than making you angry. Calm yourself and let's talk quietly."

"How can I listen to you when you've given me this harsh slap? Say the matter's nothing more than a sillyjoke. Mary am? The girl's no good. You know that as well as anyone. Have you forgotten her scandalous past? Have you really forgotten that? Do you want to bring that girl into our home?"

Exhaling, as though to rid his breast of its sorrow and turmoil, Yasin said, "That's not at all what I said. Whether we live here or not is unimportant. What's really important to me is for you to examine the question seriously, setting aside your prejudice."

"What prejudice, fellow? Have I accused her falsely? You say that your father consented. Did you tell him about her scandalous flirtation with the English soldier? My Lord, what's come over children from good families?"

"Calm down. Let's have a quiet conversation. What's the use of all this agitation?"

She shouted at him with a sharpness that would have been totally alien to her in the old days, "I can't be calm about a matter threatening our honor". In a tearful voice she continued: "And you're insulting the memory of your precious brother."

Swallowing, Yasin said, "My brother? May God be merciful to him and grant him a spacious abode in paradise. This question doesn't reflect on his memory in any way. Believe me, I know what I'm saying. Don't disturb his repose."

"I'm not the one disturbing him. You are, since you want that girl. You know it, Yasin. You can't deny it". With great emotion she added, "Perhaps you wanted her even back then."

"Mother!"

"I'm no longer sure of anything. How could I be, after this betrayal? Has the world become so small and desolate that the only girl you can find to marry is one who made your brother's heart bleed? Don't you remember how sad he was when we all heard the story of the English soldier?"

Yasin spread his arms out in supplication, saying, "Let's postpone this conversation to another time. I'll prove to you that when my late brother heeded the call of his Lord there was no trace of emotion left for this girl. As for now, the atmosphere is no longer appropriate for a conversation."

She shouted angrily at him, "It's inconceivable that there should ever be an appropriate atmosphere for me to hear talk like this. You have no respect for Fahmy's memory!"

"I wish you could imagine how sad your words make me."

Her wrath reached its ultimate peak as she yelled, "What sadness? You never grieved for your brother! There were strangers who grieved for him more than you did."

"Mother!"

Kamal attempted to intervene, but his mother silenced him with a gesture of her hand. She cried out, "Don't call me 'Mother.' I've been a mother to you, but you never were a son to me or a brother to my son."

It was impossible for Yasin to stay any longer. He rose sadly and dejectedly, leaving the sitting room for his bedroom. Kamal soon joined him there, no less sad and dejected. He asked his older brother, "Didn't I warn you?"

Frowning, Yasin said, "I won't stay in this house another minute'

With alarm Kamal told him, "You've got to excuse her. You know my mother's changed. Even Father occasionally closes his eyes to her failings. It's just a flash of anger that will soon die down. Don't take her words seriously. That's all I ask."

Sighing, Yasin said, "I don't hold it against her, Kamal. I won't forget all the happy years because of one bad hour. As you said, she's to be excused. But how can I show her my face morning and evening when this is what she thinks of me?"

After some moments of gloomy silence, Yasin continued: Don't think that Maryam broke our late brother's heart. Fahmy asked permission to marry her one day and Father refused. Fahmy set the matter aside and finally forgot all about it. How is the girl to be blamed for that? And why am I to blame if I want to marry her, six years after all that happened?"

Kamal said hopefully, "You haven't said anything that's not true, and Mother will quickly accept it. I trust your talk of leaving the house was merely a slip of the tongue…."

Shaking his head sadly, Yasin said, "I'm the one most distressed by my departure. But I'll leave sooner or later, for it's impossible to move Maryam in here. Don't think of my departure in any light but this. I'll move to my house in Palace of Desire Alley. Fortunately, my mother's apartment is still vacant. I'll stop by to see Father at the store and explain my reasons for leaving, omitting anything that might upset him. I'm not angry. I'm leaving the house most regretfully. I'll miss everyone here, starting with Mother. Don't be sad. The stream will return to its banks shortly. No one: n this family has a vengeful heart, and your mother's is the purest of all."

He went to the wardrobe, opened it, and began looking at his clothes and belongings. He hesitated a little before executing his decision, Turning toward Kamal, he said, "I'm going to marry this girl. The fates have decreed that for me. God knows, I'm convinced that I'm not betraying Fahmy's memory. You recall, Kamal, how much I loved him. Why shouldn't I? If anyone gets hurt by this marriage, it will be me."