Sugar Street

127

Abd al-Muni'm returned to Sugar Street around eight. The fuiy of the weather had abated, making for a pleasant evening with some of the freshness of spring. The lesson was still ringing in his head and heart, but he felt mentally and physically exhausted. As He crossed the courtyard in the darkness, heading for the stairway, the door of the first-floor apartment opened. By the light escaping from inside he saw a figure slip out, close the door, and precede him up the stairs. His heart pounded, and his blood pulsed through him like tiny insects inflamed by hot weather. Even in the shadow she could see her waiting for him at the first landing. She glanced at him as lie stared up at her, not averting his gaze.

It was amazingly easy for young people to deceive their parents. This young girl had stepped out of her apartment on the pretext of visiting the neighbors. And she would visit them, but only after participating in a dangerous flirtation on the dark landing. He found that his head was empty of ideas, for all the thought she had been wrestling with had disappeared like a puff of smoke. He was transfixed by a single desire — to satisfy the craving that would not leave his nerves and limbs alone. His sincere faith seemed to have fled in anger or to have taken refuge deep inside him, where it snarled resentfully, although the sound of its complaints was drowned out by the hissing of lust's flames.

Was she not his girl? Of course she was. The alcoves of the courtyard, the stairwell, and the corner of the roof overlooking Sugar Street could all testify to this. No doubt she had been watching for him to return so that she could meet him at just the right moment. She had taken all this trouble for his sake. He hurried on cautiously until he stood facing her on the landing. There was hardly any distance separating them. The fragrance of her hair tantalized him, and her breath tickled his neck.

He gently caressed her shoulder as he whispered, "Let's go to the second landing. It's safer than here."

She made no reply but headed up the steps, and he cautiously followed behind. At the second landing, halfway between the two floors, she stopped, leaning her back against the wall, and he stood right in front of her. When he put his arms around her, she resisted for a second out of force of habit before warming to his embrace.

"Darling___"

"I was waiting for you at the window. Mother has been busy getting ready for the Shamm al-Nasim holiday."

"Best wishes for our spring festival. Now let me taste spring on your lips."

Their lips met in a long, famished kiss. Then she asked, "Where were you?"

With wrenching suddennesshe remembered the lesson on politics in Islam. But he answered, "With some friends at the coffeehouse."

In a tone of protest she said, "The coffeehouse! When there's only a month before the examination?"

"I know what I have to do to prepare for it. … But now I'll kiss you again to punish you for thinking ill of me."

"Your voice is too loud. Have you forgotten where we are?"

"We're in our home, in our room. The landing is our room!"

"This afternoon, when I was going to my aunt's, I glanced up in hopes of seeing you at the window, but your mother was looking down at the alley, and our eyes met. I trembled with fear."

"What were you afraid of?"

"I imagined that she knew I was looking for you and that she had discovered my secret."

"You mean 'our secret.' It's the same bond that links both of us together. Aren't we now a single entity?"

Racked by unruly desire, he hugged her violently to his chest as if, in his desperate capitulation to lust, he was attempting to flee the faint voices of protest lodged deep inside him. Blazing fires seared him. He was seized by a force capable of dissolving the two of them into a single swirling vortex.

The silence was broken by a sigh and then by heavy breathing. He finally became aware that he and she were separate beings and that the darkness sheltered two figures. Then he heard her ask shyly in a gentle whisper, "Shall we meet tomorrow?"

With a resentment he did his best to conceal, he replied, "Yes… yes. You'll find out when…."

"Tell me now."

As his annoyance grew increasingly hard to bear, he said, "I don't know when I'll have time tomorrow."

"Why not?"

"Goodbye for now. I heard a sound."

"No! There wasn't any sound."

"Nobody should find us like this."

He patted her shoulder as if it were a dirty rag and freed himself from her arms with affected tenderness. Then he quickly climbed the stairs. His parents were in the sitting room listening to the radio. The door of the study was closed, but the light shining through its little window indicated that Ahmad was studying. Saying, "Good evening," to his parents, he went to the bedroom to remove his clothes, bathe, and cleanse himself in the manner prescribed by Islam, before returning to his room to pray. Afterward he sat cross-legged on the prayer rug and lost himself in deep meditation. There was a sad look to his eyes, his breast was aflame with grief, and he felt like crying. He prayed that his Lord would come to his aid to help him combat temptation and to drive Satan away, that Satan he encountered in the shape of a girl who inspired a raging lust in him.

His mind always said, "No," but his heart, "Yes". The fearful struggle he experienced invariably ended with defeat and regret. Every day was a test and every test an experience of hell. When would this torment end? His entire spiritual effort was threatened with ruin, as though he were building castles in the sky. Sinking into the mud, he could not find any secure footing. He wished his remorse could bring back the past hour.