The Beginning and the End

NINETY

In the dark outside, a cold breeze was blowing. With heavy steps, he walked out of the police station, followed at arm’s length by his sister, her face cast down. The two walked along the tram tracks. Since this was his first visit to this quarter, he did not know where he was going. The street was deserted, although it was still early in the evening. Where does this street go? he wondered, surprised at the nature of his own thoughts. Where the street went was without significance for him. What to do with her was the main thing. He had thought of doing something as soon as they came out of the police station, and this was exactly what she expected. But he did nothing, and they continued to walk. He felt her intolerable presence behind him, the sound of her footsteps like bullets shot into his back, crushing every desire to look back at her over his shoulders. The terrible silence estranged them; he appeared absorbed in deep thought, but in reality his mind was utterly, terrifyingly, involuntarily blank. His self-control had vanished, all power of will was gone. Helpless, he yearned to recover his customary authority. When his foot collided with a small stone in his path, a flash of anger burst in his chest, as if attracted by his wandering thoughts in the dark. Should he strangle her, he wondered suddenly, or smash her head with his shoe? His pent-up feelings demanded some kind of relief. The infernal silence which separated them still prevailed. He was mustering all his willpower to break through this barrier when, to his surprise, she did it herself. He heard her murmur in a quaking, sobbing voice, “I’m a criminal, I know. I won’t ask for forgiveness. I don’t deserve it.”

How, he wondered, could she have the courage to speak? How devilish! Her feeble voice stirred up in his breast a blind tyrannical storm of agitation that poured anger into his limbs and caused him to stop in his tracks. Turning to her with surprising swiftness, he raised his hand and with full force slapped her on the face. Mutely she staggered backward and fell, the back of her head crashing to the ground. Momentarily speechless, she quickly sat up. Summoning all her strength, she rose to her feet, withdrawing from him, until her back touched the wall of a house. She leaned against it. As he approached her, she could see the determination in his glances, despite the darkness which engulfed his face. She motioned with her hand as if pleading with him to stop.

“Stop!” she begged him hurriedly. “Don’t! I’m not afraid for myself but for you. I don’t want any harm to come to you because of me.”

Increasingly infuriated by her gentle words, he bellowed, “You don’t want any harm to come to me because of you! You filthy prostitute! You’ve already done me incalculable harm!”

“But,” she passionately entreated him again, “if anything should happen to me, I can’t bear the thought of their harming you.”

“This kind of sly deceit won’t help you to save your rotten life. No harm will come to me for killing you.”

“I don’t want you to be punished in any way,” she exclaimed with the same passion. “What will you say when they ask you why you killed me? Let me do the job myself so that no harm will come to you and nobody will know anything about it.”

“You’d kill yourself?” he inquired, astounded.

“Yes,” she said breathlessly.

As he sought to control himself, suddenly a heavy weight seemed to lift from his chest. Burning with anger and tormented by his sense of duty, he had constantly considered the consequences of the spread of the scandal and the punishment involved. But now that she had cast the verdict on herself, his breath came more easily and he began to distinguish a ray of light in the suffocating darkness.

“How?” he asked, still absorbed.

“By any means whatever,” she answered, hardly able to swallow.

He thought about it for a while, then cast a cruel glance at her. “Drown yourself in the Nile,” he said bluntly.

“All right,” she agreed calmly.

Snorting with fury, he withdrew. “Come on!” he muttered. He walked off. She left the wall with heavy steps and continued to follow him as before. He experienced a momentary feeling of relief which was as suddenly spoiled by the realization that he had lost his sense of personal dignity, of which he had been so proud as long as he was determined to kill her himself. Now he had changed from a man who prized his personal dignity to one who wanted only to save his own skin. Her proposed suicide choked him with a sense of defeat. But he was not strong enough to sacrifice safety on the altar of dignity, or weak enough to submit entirely to his urge for safety.

“How could you do such a thing?” he said roughly to give vent to his feelings. “You! Who would have imagined it!”

“It’s God’s decree,” she sighed, surrendering to despair.

“No! Satan’s!” he roared.

“True,” she sighed as before.

“Who is it?” he asked after a moment’s hesitation.

“Don’t torture yourself and me,” she said, shuddering. “Everything will be over in a few moments.”

“Did he know me?”

“No,” was her quick, emphatic answer.

Further hesitation doubled his torture. “Was it the first time?” he inquired.

She quaked again. “Yes,” she said in the same voice.

Stamping his foot on the ground, he cried, “How could you surrender to temptation?”

“This is the decree of Satan,” she murmured.

“You’re Satan incarnate. We’re destroyed.”

“No. No,” she exclaimed hopefully. “Now everything will be over, and nobody will ever know.”

“Do you mean what you say?”

“Of course.”

“And if you get scared?”

“No. My life is more dreadful than death itself.”

Exhausted, both fell silent again. Confused, he looked ahead, along the tram rails.

“Where are we going?” he asked her sarcastically. “Probably you know this quarter better than I do.”

She made no reply, her features contracting with pain. Now Daher Square came into view, teeming with life, buildings, and human voices. Absently he focused his eyes on a row of waiting taxis, headed for the first one, and opened the door for her. He followed her inside, temporarily absorbed in his thoughts while the driver waited for his instructions.

“The Imbaba Bridge, please,” Hassanein said in a low voice.