Palace of Desire

98

He opened his eyes to find the morning sunshine filling the room. Me had the worst hangover of his entire life, although the preceding night had hardly been his first time to get drunk. Rotating his head mechanically, he noticed Zanuba snoring beside him. Then his memory recalled the events of the past night in one fell swoop. Zanuba was in Maryam's bed. And Mary am? … With the neighbors. And the scandal?… Broadcast everywhere. What a giant leap into the bottomless pit of destruction! What use was there for anger or regret now? What was done was done. Everything might change but not the previous day. Should he wake her up? Why should he? Let her sleep to her heart's content. Let her stay where she was, for she could not leave the house until dark.

He had to revive himself to meet his difficult day. He pulled the light cover from his body, slipped out of bed, and padded out of the bedroom. His hair was disheveled, his eyelids swollen, and his eyes red. He yawned in the hallway with a bovine sound. Looking at the open door of the parlor, he sighed deeply. He closed his eyes and moaned in response to his hangover. Then he headed for the bathroom. He really had a hard day in front of him. Maryam was at the neighbor's, while the other woman occupied the bed. Day had overtaken him before he could conceal the traces of his crime. How crazy! He should have spirited her out before going to bed. How co aid he have been so negligent? What disaster had befallen him? When and how had he moved her from the parlor to the bedroom? He did not remember anything. He did not even recall how and when he had fallen asleep. The upshot was a colossal scandal with nothing to show for it. It had been a perfectly innocent evening but one now as filled with disgrace as his head was with distress and discomfort. But it was hardly amazing, for the apartment, a bequest from his mother, God forgive her, had long been inhabited by scandalous demons. The mother had passed on, but the son had remained to become the butt of the neighborhood gossip. By the following day the news would have reached Palace Walk.

"Forward, denizen of the abyss of debauchery. If this cold water you're using to wash your body could only cleanse your mind of its evil memories…. Who knows? Perhaps if you look out the window, you'll find a group of people watching at your doorway for the departure of the woman who expelled your wife and took her place. No, you won't allow her to leave today, no matter what. As for Maryam, you've divorced her. You divorced her without wanting to, when her mother's grave is still fresh. What will people say of you, liar?"

He felt a pressing need for a cup of coffee to revive his senses. On his way from bathroom to kitchen he noticed the console table in the front hall and remembered the bottle of cognac that had spilled in the parlor. He wondered for a moment if the rug was damaged but then remembered with ironic regret that the furniture was no longer his property. It would soon go to join the woman who owned it.

In a few minutes he was carrying a glass half filled with coffee to the bedroom, where he found Zanuba sitting up in bed as she stretched and yawned.

She turned toward him and said, "A good morning for both of us! We'll have breakfast at the police station, God willing."

He took a sip and looked at her over the rim of the glass. Then he said, "Pray to God the Omniscient Benefactor."

She waved her hands until the gold bracelets jangled. Then she blurted out, "You're responsible for everything that's happened."

He sat down on the bed near her outstretched legs. He answered uneasily, "A trial, huh? I told you to address God the Omniscient Benefactor."

She rubbed the small of his back with her heels as she moaned, "You've destroyed my home. God only knows what's waiting for me there."

As he crossed one leg over the other, his house shirt rode up to reveal a thigh that was firm and covered with a forest of coal-black hair. He asked, "Your boyfriend?… May God disappoint him! What's he compared with my wife, whom I've divorced? You're the one who's devastated my household. It's my home that's destroyed."

As though addressing herself, she said, "It's been a dark night.

I haven't been able to tell my head from my feet, and the din is still ringing in my head. But it's my fault. I should never have listened to you."

He suspected she actually was pleased, her complaints notwithstanding;, or that she was using them to get at him. Had he not known women in the Ezbekiya fleshpots who boasted of the number of bloody battles waged over them? But he did not get angry. Matters had reached such a desperate pass that he was spared the effort of trying to remedy them.

He could not help laughing as he observed, "It's the worst catastrophes that make you laugh. Laugh! You've wrecked my home and replaced my wife. Get up and pull yourself together. Prepare for a long stay… till night falls. You won't leave the house until it's dark."

"What dreadful news! Imprisoned! Where's your wife?"

"I don't have a wife anymore."

"Where is she?"

"In divorce court, if my guess is correct."

"I'm afraid she'll attack me when I leave."

"You afraid? Lord have mercy on us! Last night, menacing though she was, you didn't lose a bit of your sly pluck, you niece of Zubayda."

She laughed for a long time. She seemed to be acknowledging the charge against her and to be proud of it too. Then she put out her hand to take the glass of coffee. After drinking a little, she returned the glass and asked, "Now what?"

"As you can see, I'm in the dark too. It hurts to be exposed in front of people the way I was last night."

Shrugging her shoulders disdainfully, she said, "Don't worry about it. There's not a man alive who hasn't more dirty linen than the earth has room to hide."

"Just the same, a scandal's a scandal. Think of the fight, the wailing, the divorce at dawn. Picture the neighbors coming with alarmed curiosity to my apartment. Their eyes took in everything."

She frowned and said, "She started it!"

He could not restrain his sardonic laughter. She persisted: "If she had been wise, she could have worked everything out. Even str? ngen, in the street are considerate to boisterous drunks. She's the one who brought the divorce down on herself. What did you say to her? 'Whore and daughter of a whore'? Huh? And something else about English soldiers?"

He only remembered this now. Giving her a peeved look, he wondered how these phrases had taken root in her memory. He muttered uneasily, "I was angry. I didn't know what I was saying."

"Humbug!"

"Humbug to you!"

"English soldiers? Did you get her from one of their haunts like the Finish Bar?"

"God forbid. She's from a decent family, lifelong neighbors. It was just anger, a thousand curses on it."

"Without anger, secrets would never come to light."

"By your aunt's life, we have enough trouble as it is."

"Tell me about the English soldiers, as if there was anything I didn't know about them"

In a loud, defiant voice he replied, "I told you it was anger. That'll do."

She groaned sarcastically and then asked, "Are you defending her? Then go get her back."

"Curses on anyone shameless and cold-blooded enough to do that."

"Curses…."

She got out of bed and went to the mirror. Picking up Maryam's comb, she began to fix her hair quickly as she asked, "What will I do if the man breaks up with me?"

"Tell him goodbye. My house is always open to you."

She turned toward him and said sadly, "You don't understand what you're saying. We were thinking seriously about marriage."

"Marriage! Haven't you dropped that idea after you saw what it's like last night?"

She answered shrewdly, "You don't understand. I'm tired of being a kept woman. All it brings is ruin. A woman like me who weds really values her marriage."

"Who's the idiot?" he asked himself. "In the troupe she was never anything more than a lute player. After thirty a prostitute's over the hill, and she'll be thirty soon. So marriage is her best bet. Is she aiming this talk at you? What a delightful devil! I won't deny I want her. I desire her in the strongest possible way. My scandal bears witness to that."

"Do you love him?"

As if angered, she replied, "If I loved him, you wouldn't find me imprisoned here now."

Although skeptical of her veracity, he longed for her. Yes, even if her heart was not sincere, she had clearly shown a weakness for him.

"I can't do without you, Zanuba. To get you, I've done crazy things, not caring about the consequences. You're mine, and I've been yours for a long time."

Silence reigned. She seemed to be waiting impatiently for more. When he did not continue, she asked, "Should I sever my ties with that man? I'm not a woman who can bounce back and forth between two lovers."

"Who is he?"

"A merchant from the Citadel region called Muhammad al-Qulali."

"Married?"

"And he's got children, but he has lots of money."

"He promised to marry you?"

"He's trying to talk me into it, but I've been hesitating. The circumstances and the fact that he's a husband and father suggest there could be problems."

He put up with her deceitfulness for the sake of her beautiful eyes. "Why don't we go back to the way we were. I'm not destitute, in any case."

"I don't care about your money, but I'm sick of living in sin."

"What's to be done?"

"That's what I'm asking."

"Explain."

"I've said more than enough."

What an unexpected attack! Yes, at first glance it seemed ludicrous, but he wanted her. So he was forced to play along. After a pause he said, "I won't try to hide my low opinion of marriage from you."

"I have a low opinion of living in sin."

"That wasn't how you talked yesterday."

"Then I had a husband within reach, but today…"

"With a little flexibility, we can meet each other halfway. There's one thing you must never lose sight of: No matter how long I stey with you, I'll never let you go."

She cried out defiantly, "Your past adventures really bear that out!"

To hide the weakness of his position he replied earnestly, "A man doesn't learn without paying a price."

"Words no longer beguile me. Shame on you men!"

"And on you women too … isn't that so?" he thought. "Have mercy, niece of Zubayda. You arrive here drunk after midnight, and in the morning you're tired of living in sin. Perhaps she told herself, 'If his second wife was a whore, why shouldn't I be the third one?' How low Yasin has fallen. Have you forgotten the trouble ready to pounce on you outside? Let those problems wait. Just don't lose Zanuba with an ugly remark the way you did Maryam. Maryam? I'm atoning for my sin now, Fahmy."

He said calmly, "Our relationship must not end."

"It's up to you whether it continues or ends."

"We need to meet a lot and think a lot."

"As far as I'm concerned, I don't need to think anymore."

"So either I convince you of my opinion or you convince me of the wisdom of yours."

"I'll never come around to yours."

She left the room and did not let him see her smile. He gazed after her rounded back with a look of amazement. Yes, everything seemed amazing. But where was Maryam? On her own, wherever she was. He would not get any rest or peace. He would be questioned tomorrow at Palace Walk and the following day at the Islamic court. All the same, their life during the last period had been one long wrangle. She had even told him quite bluntly, "I hate you and I hate living with you."

"I wasn't made to succeed in marriage. Was my grandfather's life like this? I'm the one in the family who most resembles him, so they say. Despite all this, that crazy woman wants to marry me."