Sugar Street

134

The very next day Aisha went to call at Sugar Street. During the nine previous years, except for a few visits to Palace of Desire Alley when Yasin had lost a child, she had left the old house only to visit the cemetery. She stopped for a moment at the entrance to look around, and her eyes filled with tears. Uthman's and Muhammad's feet had frequently run and skipped there by the doorway. The courtyard had once been decorated for her glorious wedding. That was the reception room where Khalil had smoked his water pipe and played backgammon or dominoes. Here the sweet fragrance of the past was redolent of lost love and tenderness. She had been so joyful that her happiness had been proverbial. Called the merry soprano, she had been accused of flirting with her mirror and of consorting with her dressing table. Her husband had uttered sweet nothings and the children had scampered about … in those bygone days. She dried her eyes so she would not meet the bride that way. These eyes were still blue, even though the eyelashes had fallen out and the eyelids seemed withered. She found the apartment newly outfitted and painted, resplendent with the bride's furnishings, on which a considerable amount had been spent. Wearing a diaphanous white frock, her golden hair hanging down to her knees, Na'ima greeted her mother. The bride was serene, charming, and immaculate, and her perfume had a haunting fragrance.

Their long affectionate embrace lasted until Abd al-Muni'm, calmly waiting his turn in a blue-green robe that enveloped his silk house shirt, protested, "That's enough! Just say hello to each other. A nominal separation like this merits nothing more."

Then he embraced his aunt and escorted her to a cozy chair. As she sat down, he remarked, "We were just thinking of you, Aunt. We have decided to invite you to come live with us."

Aisha smiled as she answered, "Anything but that. I'll visit you every day. This will give me an excuse for a walk. I really need more exercise."

With his customary candor, Abd al-Muni'm said, "Sweet Na'ima has told me that you can't bear to stay here for fear of being overcome by memories. But a Believer need not fall prey to sad thoughts. What happened was God's will, and it was a long time ago. God has sent us as a consolation for you."

"Though this young man," Aisha reflected, "is frank and good-hearted, he is cavalier about the impact of his words on wounded hearts."

"Of course, Abd al-Muni'm," she said. "But I'm comfortable at home. It's better this way."

Then Khadija, Ibrahim, and Ahmad entered and shook hands with Aisha. Khadija told her sister, "If I had realized this would make you start visiting us again I would have had them married even before they were old enough."

Aisha laughed. Reminding Khadija of distant times, she asked, "A single kitchen? Or does the bride demand to be independent of her mother-in-law?"

Khadija and Ibrahim both laughed. In a tone that was not free of insinuation, Khadija answered, "Like her mother, she isn't concerned about such silly things."

For his sons' sake, Ibrahim explained Aisha's obscure reference: "The battles between your mother and mine began with the kitchen, which my mother monopolized. Your mother demanded one of her own."

The bridegroom asked in amazement, "Mother, did you fight over a kitchen?"

Laughing, Ahmad said, "Do the struggles between nations have grander causes than that?"

Ibrahim remarked ironically, "Your mother is as powerful as England. While mine … well, may God have mercy on her."

Kamal arrived. He was wearing an elegant white suit, but his face was distinguished as always by his protruding forehead, enormous nose, gold spectacles, and thick but compact mustache. He was carrying a large package that promised to be a fine present. As she smilingly examined it, Khadija cautioned him, "Watch out, brother. If you don't go ahead and marry, you'll always be taking presents to other people without getting anything in return. There's a whole family of young people about to get married. We have Ahmad, and Yasin has Ridwan and Karima. Start making plans now to do what's right."

Ahmad asked his uncle, "Has the school vacation begun?"

Removing his fez and gazing at the beautiful bride, Kamal replied. "There's only a short period left while we monitor and correct the elementary-level examination."

Na'ima disappeared and returned shortly with a silver tray fiLed with sweets of various different types and flavors. For a time nothing washeard but the noise of lips smacking and mouths sucking. Then Ibrahim started to recount what he remembered of his own wedding, the reception, and the male and female vocalists. Aisha listened with a smiling face and a sad heart. Kamal also followed this narrative with great interest, since it reminded him of thingshe remembered and of othershe had forgotten and wanted to learn about.

Laughing, Ibrahim said, "Al-Sayyid Ahmad was just the same as he is today or even more severe. But my mother, may God be compassionate to her, declared decisively, 'Al-Sayyid Ahmad can do anything he wishes at his house. But in our home we'll celebrate as much as we want.' And that's what happened. Al-Sayyid Ahmad was accompanied to the wedding by his friends, may God be gracious to them all. I remember that Ridwan's grandfather, Mr. Muhammad Iffat, was one of them. They sat in the reception room, far removed from the commotion."

Khadija added, "Jalila, the most renowned performer of her time, entertained that evening."

Ashe thought of the aged madam, who still boasted of her successes in his father's era, Kamal felt like smiling.

Stealing a look at Aisha, Ibrahim remarked, "We used to have our own private singer in the house. Her voice was more beautiful than that of any professional musician. She made us think of Munira al-Mahdiya at her prime."

Aisha blushed and replied quietly, "Her voice has been silent for a long lime. She's forgotten how to sing."

Kamal said, "Na'ima sings too. Haven't you heard her?"

Ibrahim answered, "I understand she does, but I haven't heard her yet. The truth is that we've had more opportunities to observe* her piety than her singing. Yesterday I told her, 'Your husband is one of the most pious Believers, but you must postpone your prayers and devotions for a while.' "

They all laughed. Then Ahmad taunted his brother, "The only thing your bride hasn't done yet is join the followers of Shaykh Ali al-Manufi."

The bridegroom retorted, "It was our shaykh who first advised me to marry."

Ahmad continued to tease his brother: "It seems the Muslim Brethren have made marriage a plank in their political platform."

Turning to Kamal, Ibrahim said, "You were very young then I mean when I got married. And you had a lot more hair than today. You accused me and my brother of stealing your sisters and never forgave us."

"I was a blank page then," Kamal thought. "My struggles of conscience were not yet recorded there. They speak of married bliss. Haven't they heard what grumbling spouses say about it? I cherish Na'ima too much for me to tolerate a husband's growing tired of her. What is there in life that doesn't turn out to be a fraud?"

Commenting on her husband's statement, Khadija said, "We thought you were accusing our bridegrooms because you loved us. But eventually it became clear that you spoke from a hatred for marriage that you've had since you were a child."

Kamal laughed along with the others. He loved Khadija, and his affection was strengthened by his knowledge that she loved him dearly. Although upset by the young bridegroom's fanaticism, he liked and admired Ahmad. Kamal was fleeing matrimony but rather enjoyed having Khadija remind him of it at every opportunity. Profoundly influenced by the conjugal atmosphere that surrounded him, intoxicating his heart and senses, he felt a longing, although not for anyone or anything in particular. He wondered, as if for the first time, "What's keeping me from getting married? … My intellectual life, as I once claimed? Today I doubt the worth of both thought and the thinker. Is it fear, vengeance, masochism, or some reaction to my former love? My life provides evidence to support any of these hypotheses."

Ibrahim Shawkat asked Kamal, "Do you know why I'm sorry you're a bachelor?"

"Yes?"

"I'm convinced you'd be an exemplary husband if you did marry, for you're a family man by nature. You're organized, upright, and a respected civil servant. No doubt somewhere on this earth there's a girl who deserves you, and you're depriving her of her opportunity."

Even mules occasionally spoke words of wisdom… a girl somew iere in the world, but where? Yet he was unfairly accused of being upright, for he was nothing but a sinful and hypocritical pagan inebriate. A girl somewhere on the earth, presumably not in Jalila's brothel on al-Gawhari Alley…. Why were pains struggling with each other in his heart? How could one describe the kind of perplexity from which the only refuge was drink and lust? It was said that if you marry and have children, you will be immortal. He yearned in the worst possible way for all forms and varieties of immortality. In his despair would he finally resort to this trite and instinctual method? There was always hope that death would bring no pain to disturb his eternal repose. Death appeared frightening and senseless, but with life having lost all meaning, death seemed the only true pleasure left. How extraordinary it was that scholars devoted themselves to the advancement of science in their laboratories. How amazing it was that leaders jeopardized their careers for the sake of the constitution. But people who wandered aimlessly in their anxious torment — God's mercy on them.

Kamal looked from Ahmad to Abd al-Muni'm with a mixture of admiration and delight. The new generation was making its difficuk way to well-defined goals without doubt or anxiety. He asked himself, "What's the secret of my enervating disease?"

Ahmad said, "I'm inviting the newlyweds, my parents, and my aunt to join me in a box at al-Rihani's theater this Thursday."

Khadija asked, "Al-Rihani?"

Ibrahim explained, "The actor who plays Kishkish Bey!"

Khadija laughed and said, "Yasin was almost thrown out of our house soon after he was first married because he took Ridwan's mother to see Kishkish one night."

"That's the way things were back then," Ahmad said, dismissing the implicit criticism. "Nowadays my grandfather wouldn't object to my aandmother's going to see Kishkish Bey."

Khadija replied, "Take the newlyweds and your father. The radio's enough for me."

Aisha said, "And coming to your house is sufficient entertainment for me."

Khadija launched into a rendition of the tale of Yasin and Kishkish Bey. Kamal happened to glance at his watch and remembered his appointment with Riyad Qaldas. So he rose and asked their permission to leave.