Palace Walk

22

Whenever Aisha looked at herself in the mirror, she was immensely pleased with what she saw. Who else from her illustrious family, indeed from the whole neighborhood, was adorned by golden tresses and blue eyes like hers? Yasin flirted openly with her, and Fahmy, when he spoke to her about one thing or another, did not neglect to give her admiring glances. Even little Kamal did not want to drink from the water jug unless her mouth had moistened the lip. Her mother spoiled her and said she was as beautiful as the moon, although she did not conceal her anxiety that Aisha was too thin and delicate. For this reason she had encouraged Umm Hanafi to concoct a remedy to fatten her up. Aisha herself was perhaps more conscious of her extraordinary beauty than any of the others. Her intense solicitude for every detail of her appearance made this clear.

Khadija did not let her sister’s excessive concern for her beauty pass without comment, rebuke, and criticism. It was not that Khadija would have been pleased if Aisha had neglected herself. She took after her mother more than any of the others when it came to cleanliness and neatness. But it annoyed her to observe her sister greet the day by combing her hair and fixing her attire before doing the household chores, as though Aisha could not bear for her beauty to be left untended for even one hour out of her whole life.

It was not simply interest in her own beauty that caused Aisha to want to fix herself up first thing in the morning. When the men went off to work, she wanted to be ready to repair to the parlor and open the shutters of the window overlooking Palace Walk just the least bit. Then she would stand searching the street, while she waited anxiously and fearfully.

She stood there this morning with her eyes wandering from Hammam al-Sultan to the ancient building that housed the public cistern. Her young heart pounded while she waited for "him". Then he appeared in the distance. He turned the corner, coming from al-Khurunfush, and strutted along in his uniform with the two stars gleaming on the shoulder. As he approached the house, he cautiously began to raise his eyes but not his head. When he was close, the faintest of smiles flickered across his face, one more clearly perceived by the heart than the eyes, like the crescent moon the first night. Then he disappeared beneath the balcony.

She whirled around to continue watching him from the other window overlooking al-Nahhasin but was shocked to see Khadija, standing on the sofa between the two windows, looking over her head at the street. A moan escaped Aisha. Her eyes grew big with unmistakable alarm. She stood rooted to the spot. When and how had her sister come? How had she gotten up on the sofa without Aisha being aware of it? What had she seen?… When and how and what?

Meanwhile Khadija fixed her eyes on her sister, slowly and silently narrowing them. She extended the silence as though to prolong Aisha’s suffering.

Aisha gained partial control of herself. She lowered her eyes with great effort and turned toward the couch, futilely pretending to have steadied her nerves. She stammered, "Lady, you frightened me!"

Khadija did not show any interest. She remained where she was on the sofa. Her gaze was directed at the street through the crack. Then she muttered sarcastically, "Did I frighten you?… May the name of God protect you… I must be the bogeyman".

After retreating a little to escape from Khadija’s eyes, Aisha gritted her teeth in rage. In a calm voice she said, "I suddenly saw you, over my head, without knowing you'd come in. Why did you sneak up?"

Khadija jumped down. She sat on the sofa, completely and scornfully at ease. "I'm sorry, sister," she said. "Next time I'll hang a bell around my neck like a fire truck so you'll know I'm here and won't be frightened".

Still terrified, Aisha answered, "There’s no need to wear a bell. It would be enough if you'd just walk the way God intended us to…"

Casting her a knowing look, Khadija continued in the same sarcastic tone: "Our Lord knows I walk the way He intended. What’s clear is that you, when you stand behind the window, I mean behind this crack, are so caught up in what’s in front of you that you're no longer conscious of what is happening around you and don't act the way our Lord intended".

Aisha snorted and mumbled, "You'll never change".

Khadija was silent again for a moment. She turned her eyes away from her victim and raised her eyebrows as if thinking about a difficult puzzle. Then she pretended to be pleased, as though she had found the right answer. Speaking to herself this time, without looking at her sister she said, "Then this is the reason she frequently sings: 'You there with the red stripe, you who have taken me prisoner, have pity on my humiliation.' Not being suspicious, darling, I just thought it was an innocent song, merely for your amusement".

Aisha’s heart beat wildly. What she feared most had happened. It was no use anymore to cling to the phantoms of false hopes. She was afflicted by a disturbance that rocked the very pillars of her being, and she almost choked on her tears. All the same, her despair forced her to risk everything to defend herself. In a voice that shook so much the words were hard to understand, she yelled, "What’s this nonsense you're saying?"

Khadija appeared not to have heard her. She continued to herself: "This is also the reason she fixes herself up so early in the morning. I've often asked myself if it made sense for a girl to get all dolled up before she does the sweeping and dusting. But what sweeping and what dusting? Oh, Khadija, you poor dear, you'll live a fool and die a fool. You're the one who'll do the sweeping and dusting, and you won't have time to worry about your appearance either before or after work. You miserable creature, why should you deck yourself out? You could look through the crack of the window day after day, and if even one officer out on patrol took an interest in you, I'd be so surprised I'd chop my arm off".

Upset and nervous, Aisha shouted at her, "Shame on you. Shame".

"She’s right, Khadija. You with your muddled mind aren't able to understand these arts. Blue eyes, hair of spun gold, a red stripe, and a gleaming star, these all fit together nicely in a rational way".

"Khadija, you're mistaken. I was looking at the street. That’s all. I wasn't trying to see someone or be seen by him".

Khadija turned toward her as though hearing her protest for the first time. She asked apologetically, "Were you talking to me, sweetheart, Shushu? Excuse me, I'm thinking about some important matters. So don't say anything just now". She shook her head thoughtfully again and said to herself, "Yes, it all makes perfect sense, but is this your fault, Mr. Ahmad Abd al-Jawad? I feel sorry for you, sir, you noble and generous man. Come see your women, sir, you whom I honor most of all".

Aisha’s hair stood up on end at the mention of her father. Her head whirled. She remembered what he had said to her mother when he was attacking Fahmy’s request to get engaged to Maryam: "Tell me: Has he seen her?… I didn't know I had sons who were sneaking looks at the respectable women of our neighbors". That was what he thought about his son; so what would he think about his daughter? She nearly choked as she cried out, "Khadija… this isn't right… You're mistaken… You're wrong".

Khadija kept on talking to herself without paying any attention to her sister: "Do you suppose this is love? Perhaps! Don't they say, 'Love has penetrated my heart… It won't be long till I'm taken to Tokar Prison'? I wonder where this notorious Tokar Prison is? Perhaps it’s in al-Nahhasin; indeed perhaps it’s in the home of Mr. Ahmad Abd al-Jawad".

"I can't bear what you're saying. Have mercy on me and spare me your tongue. Oh Lord… why won't you believe me?"

"Think carefully about what you're going to do, Khadija. It’s not a game. You're the older sister. A duty is a duty, no matter how bitter it may seem. The authorities must be informed. Should you confide the secret to your father? The truth is that I wouldn't know how to tell him such an important secret. Yasin? He might as well not exist for all the help he can provide. The most that can be hoped from him is for him to chant some incomprehensible words. Fahmy? But he’s also sweet on the golden-haired wonder who is the source of the whole problem. I suspect the best thing is for me to tell Mother. I'll let her do what she thinks is right".

Khadija moved as though she intended to get up. Aisha rushed at her like a chicken without a head. She grabbed her shoulders and shouted, as her chest heaved, "What do you want?"

Khadija asked, "Are you threatening me?"

Aisha started to speak but all at once choked on her tears. She murmured some words that were mangled by her sobs. Khadija stared at her silently and thoughtfully. Then the mischievous sarcasm of her expression changed to a frown as she listened uncomfortably to the girl’s sobs. Speaking in a serious tone for the first time, she remarked, "What you did was wrong, Aisha".

Then she stopped. The frown on her face became more pronounced. Her nose seemed to stick out even farther. She was clearly moved. She started speaking again: "You've got to confess you made a mistake. Tell me how you talked yourself into this mischief, you crazy girl".

Drying her eyes, Aisha mumbled, "You misjudge me".

Khadija snorted and scowled as though she could not stand any more of this lamentable obstinacy. All the same, she abandoned the notion of acting hostilely toward Aisha or of mistreating her. She always knew when and where to stop. She would not let things get out of hand. Her sarcasm had satisfied her rough and hostile tendencies. As usual, she was content to draw the line there. Her other inclinations, as far removed as possible from hostility and harshness, still had not been satisfied. They were impulses arising from the affections of an older sister. Indeed her feelings were almost maternal and embraced every member of the family, no matter how fierce her attack against one of them might be, or his against her.

Impelled by these affectionate urges, Khadija said, "Don't be obstinate. I saw it all with my own eyes. I'm not joking now. I want to tell you frankly that you made a big mistake. Our family has not known this kind of mischief in the past and we don't want to experience it again, now or in the future. It’s nothing but recklessness that has landed you here. Listen to me and pay attention to my advice. Don't ever do this again. Nothing remains a secret forever, no matter how long it may be concealed. Imagine the situation for all of us if someone on the street or one of our neighbors noticed you. You know very well how people talk. Imagine what would happen if the news reached Daddy. God help us!"

Aisha bowed her head and allowed her silence to serve as a confession. Her face was stained red with shame in a physical manifestation of remorse that conscience releases inside us when injured by one of our offenses.

Khadija sighed and said, "Beware, beware. Understand?" Then a wave of sarcasm swept across her and her tone changed somewhat: "Hasn't he seen you? What’s keeping him from asking for your hand like an honorable man? When that happens, we'll gladly say farewell to you, lady, or even good riddance".

Aisha got her breath back. Her smile resembled the first glimmer of consciousness after a long swoon. The sight of this smile seemed to make Khadija disinclined to let her sister escape from her grasp so soon, after she had enjoyed dominating her for a long time. She shouted at her, "Don't think you're off the hook. My tongue won't be still unless you do a good job of entertaining it".

Aisha asked her cheerfully, "What do you mean?"

"Don't neglect it. Otherwise it might yield to a malicious urge. Divert it with some candy so it'll be occupied with that and not you, a box of bonbons from Shangarly, for example".

"You can have all you want and more".

Silence reigned while each of them was busy with her own thoughts. Khadija’s heart, as it had been from the beginning of the encounter, was a breeding ground for all sorts of different emotions… jealousy, anger, sympathy, and affection.