The Beginning and the End

NINETY-ONE

The taxi sped swiftly to Farouk Street, Ataba Square, then Imbaba.

Like strangers they sat inside the taxi. Half of his back to her, he looked out of the window at the road; Nefisa, her head bowed, was dazed and self-absorbed. Nothing significant passed through her mind. She was quietly immobile, like the silence in the wake of a storm, the motionlessness of death after the last painful breath. Before she fainted in the street, she had already reached the apex of insane paroxysm. As she returned to consciousness she was assaulted anew by her train of fearful thoughts. In infernal horror, her life passed before her, until the weight of her sorrows caused her to bow her head over her chest, as if desperately doomed under the weight of a collapsing wall. Now, she realized, it was all over, after her complete collapse, the appearance of Hassanein, and their conversation in the street. Horror left her mind in a mute vacuum, save for some distant memory of the days of her childhood, or some trifling aspect of the taxi floor. Yet she was undergoing an experience hitherto unknown to her. Life was worthless; death would rescue her from its painful humiliation. True, she had long resented her past life and sometimes dreamt of death. But she had not considered suicide, for always a gleam of hope lay hidden at the bottom of her heart. Now all connections with her life had been severed. Gone were the roots tying her to existence. Profound despair gave way to relief from the burden of living.

Now in her resignation, the death she hurried to meet became a soothing drug. As the speeding taxi suddenly swerved at a corner, Nefisa almost fell off the seat and became fearfully aware of her surroundings. Though her head was bowed, she felt his presence by her side. At the glimpse of his suffocating shape enveloped in a mysterious mist, her heart ached with pain and shame. What could he be thinking of? she wondered. When will he feel anything but anger? When will it all be over? This will only be the end. Will Mother guess the truth? I shouldn’t think of it. I’m doomed to die.

Hassanein was strained and agitated, overcome with awe, anger, and despair. How will this ordeal end? he wondered. And how will I come out of it? Will the curtain really fall on this affair, will no rank smell rise from it to make all this labor futile? I feel as if I’m being choked. One can never wipe out the past; it goes on with the future. Why can’t we be different? Everything is finished and there is no need to think about it, no need at all. Such torment! How to overcome my misery? Wait. I’m driving her to her death, and she knows it. Will she have enough courage to do it? Sure, she’s absorbed in her thoughts. But what is she thinking about? I shouldn’t think of her. Death is the right end for her. Our eyes shouldn’t meet; it would be too intolerable for both of us.

“This has to do with your sister.” Oh! Damn the officer. “I’m sorry to tell you this, but she was arrested in a certain house in Al Sakakini.”

Who would ever have dreamed of this? Death is not an end but the beginning of further misery that awaits me at home. When shall I free myself from such thoughts?

What chimney is this? Perhaps a factory chimney. We’re approaching Abu al-Ila Bridge. The chimney sends forth black, thick smoke. Were my thoughts or my breath to fume, I would send forth much filthier smoke. “I don’t want any harm to come to you because of me.” Right you are. You must perish alone. When will we come to the end of the road?

The taxi crossed the bridge. Strong gusts of cold, humid air, full of the fragrance of the Nile, gushed inside the taxi. Like a man scorched in a blazing fire, the young man welcomed the breeze, but it sent a shudder down Nefisa’s spine, arousing a mysterious fear in her heart, until she finally gave way to her former state of resignation, immobility, and despair. The taxi doubled its speed. As it reached the neighborhood of the Imbaba Bridge, it gradually slowed down. As the driver turned inquiringly to Hassanein, he ordered him in a low voice to stop, paid the fare, and got out. She left by the opposite door, and the taxi departed.

Now brother and sister were alone, close to the entrance of the bridge. Lamps on either side of the bridge pierced the darkness with a strong light, and distant lamps twinkled faintly along the banks of the Nile, engulfed as it was north and south in the gloom, the rows of trees on either side of the river appearing like gigantic apparitions. The place was almost deserted, with only an occasional passerby. The branches moaned against the cold wind; the trees whispered when the breeze fell. Shocked into immobility, they stood quietly. He glanced secretly at her, and saw that her head was lowered and her back a little hunched, but the sight of her stirred no feelings of pity in his hardened, merciless heart. Suddenly exasperated by his own inaction, he spoke to her roughly. “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” she answered in a strangely curious voice.

Her simple answer cut deep into his soul. He could stand still no longer and moved off with a heavy step. Before he had gone an arm’s length from her, he heard her beg him, “Don’t remember the harm I’ve done.”

Taking wide strides like a fugitive, he replied in a gruff voice, “May God have mercy on all of us.”

He left her alone in front of the bridge and walked toward the pavement extending to the right along the bank of the Nile. He quickened his pace. He felt an urge to escape, but an all-encompassing power held him back. His resistance collapsed near the huge trunk of a willow tree about thirty meters off the beginning of the pavement. Overcome with fatigue, he hid behind it. Like a monster sinking its teeth into the flesh of its prey, the bridge appeared to him as a solid mass, sparkling in the light of its lamps, obstinate and determined to link both sides of the Nile. At the entrance of the bridge facing him, he watched her move with unusual heaviness and rigidity, her head cast down as if she were walking in her sleep. Observing her clearly under the bright lights, his eyes were fixed on the illuminated side of her face, as she continued step by step to the middle of the bridge, where she halted. She raised her head and cast her eyes about her. Turning to the rail, she looked down at the swift, tumultuous water underneath. Breathless, he continued to watch her. At this moment, two men appeared at the farther end of the bridge. Busily conversing, they crossed the bridge quickly. The tram from Imbaba, shattering the silence with its noise, turned toward the bridge. The young man briefly recovered his breath, but soon became worried and depressed. Surely others must hear the violent beating of his heart. Several moments elapsed. He thought of himself as a detached observer of a scene in no way related to himself, but only after his sense of awe had displaced his anger and exasperation. In a turmoil of conflicting thoughts, he felt perplexed, like a man faced with an abstruse, mysterious problem who finds he cannot solve it or has no time to think about it. Now he was baffled and lost. Meanwhile, the two men crossed the bridge, the tram preceding them. The girl still stared at the water. Looking around, he saw no trace of a human being. All his senses crystallized in a fixed, terrified moment of expectation. He saw her turn her head to the right, then to the left. Suddenly she swiftly climbed the rail. Watching her movements, his heart quaked and his eyes protruded. Impossible! Not this…he thought. She had thrown herself into the water. Rather, she did nothing to stop herself from falling. Her protracted scream sounded like a groan, conjuring up the image of death for anyone unlucky enough to hear it. His own cry of terror was submerged in her last, piercing scream. As he watched her drown, he felt he could find the solution to the abstruse problem which perplexed him, a solution different from the one she had chosen. There might have been another solution, he thought. His cry sounded like an attempt to redress his mistake, but the cry vanished. As he heard her body tumble into the water, he gave another cry.