The Mirage

19

It was a historic morning in my life when her glance fell upon me and our eyes met as she came toward the tram stop. My limbs trembled, and as I struggled with my shyness I wondered: Doesn’t she remember the young man she saw on the day when she answered my spirit’s invitation? I was intoxicated by an excitement that even the arrival of my two challengers couldn’t dampen. The tram carried us all as far as the ministry stop. I got off and rushed to the sidewalk, then glanced back at the ladies’ car. She was sitting in the last row and facing my direction, and our eyes met once again. I lowered my gaze shyly, but my heart was in bliss. As I walked briskly along, I mumbled to myself: I’ve been exposed!

That afternoon as I sat in my room not far from my mother, I recalled the happiness I’d known earlier in the day. Stealing a strange glance at her, I thought to myself: Ah, if she only knew my thoughts! Hadn’t past experience taught me that this sort of happiness on my part was among the things she viewed as unforgivable sin? This was a fact I’d never lost sight of. Even so, it seemed at that moment to be strange and unfamiliar, as though I were discovering it for the first time. I looked over at her regal, lovely face in protest and indignation, saying to myself furiously: It would probably be easier for her to hear that some harm had come to me than to discover that I’m in love! I may have been exaggerating, but her past comportment had robbed me of the ability to look at the bright, pleasant side of life without a heavy dose of fear and shame where she was concerned. So, weary of having to conceal my happiness in her presence, I left the house with a sigh of relief, then hurried as usual to the old tram stop. Looking ahead of me, I caught sight of the two sisters behind the windowpane, and I approached with a feeling of elation. With uncertain steps, I slipped into the crowd of people standing at the tram stop, wishing with all my heart that I didn’t have to leave until night had drawn its curtains. The weather was extremely cold, and it pleased me to be enduring the harshness of the elements in return for one glance from her eyes. I was certain that my height and my black coat would be sufficient to remind her who I was. Lifting my gaze fearfully, I saw her looking my way, although, given the distance that separated us, I wasn’t able to determine exactly what she was looking at. Nevertheless, a rush of delight flowed through my limbs. Although I wished it could be otherwise, the tram arrived, and bashfulness left me no choice but to get on.

My life no longer had any goal but the tram stop and the girl who lived next to it. All I could do was steal timid glances at her, then lower my gaze quickly if the eyes I’d come to love more than life itself happened to look back at me. My girl was no longer ignorant of me as she had been for the four months previous. On the contrary, she knew now that there was a young man who looked out for her wherever she went and that he did this deliberately and patiently, albeit without making a move. In fact, good fortune smiled on me so generously that I began winning a look from her nearly every day, though it seemed to be mere chance that brought it about. In other words, it would be a passing glance cast at the place as a whole and which happened to include me as part of the larger picture. Beyond this, she maintained her usual modesty and decorum. Indeed, she was no longer ignorant of me however much she happened to ignore me, and it was a glorious victory — considering my powerlessness — for her to be aware of my existence after that long, silent struggle. So I persisted in my unwearying surveillance as though I were waiting for the next step to come from her, or from the Lord of heaven and earth.

Those were sweet, happy days, even if they did happen to be devoid of hope. I lived them with a feeling of profound contentment and with dreams that couldn’t be contained by mere imagination. They wafted through my heart in purity and holiness, and I was careful to keep them locked securely out of my nightly retreat into seclusion and fiendish pleasure.

* * *

After some time it became apparent to me that, despite my caution and attempts at concealment, my well-kept secret was giving itself away. I don’t know how it happened. It may simply be that in moments of ardor I would forget myself, as a result of which my eye would fall on something I should have been careful not to look at. To my surprise, one day I found my two “rivals” looking at me suspiciously, as though they realized that a new competitor had appeared on the scene. On another day, as I stood in my usual place at the tram stop, the servant girl who worked in my beloved’s house passed by me and, as she did so, cast me a meaningful glance that made my heart melt on the spot. Joyfully and fearfully I wondered: Do you suppose my secret has reached the household itself? Then, feeling mortified, I muttered to myself, “Oh well, my secret’s out now, and there’s nothing I can do about it.” One time I saw the little sister at the window as I approached the tram stop in the afternoon. When she glimpsed me, she turned and looked behind her as though she were talking to someone I couldn’t see. Then the mother appeared behind the windowpane and cast me a scrutinizing glance. Lord! I felt like a criminal who’d been caught red-handed! In any case, there was no doubt that the household recognized me now, and in the days that followed this certainty was confirmed. Whenever any of them happened to look at me — with the exception of “my lady,” of course — they would scrutinize me with intense interest. As for me, I became more and more unsettled.

Feeling a bit befuddled, I began wondering what they were saying and thinking. I had a deceptively impressive appearance, and they may have thought I was some outstanding employee with a bright future ahead of me! Ahhh … I was an outstanding employee in my mother’s eyes alone. I may have felt some regret then for having quit the university, but I consoled myself with the thought that one day I’d be inheriting a sizeable fortune. Be that as it may, I thought, that’s no reason to be afraid of the people in the household. On the contrary, I felt as though it were there that my own happiness lay and I loved it with all my heart: its inhabitants, its furniture, its rooms, and even its servant. I resided there in spirit, and in my mind’s eye I would carry on long, fascinating conversations with the people who lived there. As for my beloved, she filled my heart, my mind, and my imagination. If I saw the laundry hanging on the balcony, wafted to and fro by the afternoon breezes, I would gaze at it with eyes of love and affection. I’d look at its various colors and shapes, enchanted by delicate fringes that would send my heart into holy raptures as though it were feasting on the sweetness of celestial refrains. Time and time again I addressed my beloved’s room, exhorting it to keep her in its care in both wakefulness and slumber, when dreams soared away with her, or when she uttered words I hadn’t had the pleasure to hear.

One day I had an impulse to stay on the tram and escort my beloved to her school, though I was fearful and anxious at the thought of the risk involved. The tram got as far as al-Ataba al-Khadra, and I kept my eyes glued to the ladies’ car so that I could see where my beloved got off. The tram took us across streets I’d never seen before until it crossed the Abul-Ila Bridge, and at the next stop, she got off. As I stepped onto the sidewalk, tracking her with my eyes, I saw her veer right with her towering height and her trim figure. Then she turned onto a side street that ran parallel to the mansions located along the Nile. As she turned she happened to look back and see me as I stood there looking at her. Blushing with embarrassment, I shuddered as though an electric current had gone through me. Presently she disappeared from view, and I took a few steps forward until I was able to see the street. I saw her stepping gracefully away, and then passing through a nearby gate. I stood still for a whle, unsure what to do next, and thought of returning to the ministry, as I was late for work with no excuse. However, I couldn’t bring myself to end the adventure without anything to show for it. Hence, I headed in the direction of the school with a timorous heart. As I passed hurriedly in front of it, I saw a sign that read, “The Higher Education Institute for Girls.” Then I returned to the tram stop and boarded the tram heading back where I’d come from, wondering about the meaning of what I’d read. When I got to my workplace, I learned from an employee there that this was an institute that trained teachers for girls’ primary schools, and that the girls who studied there enrolled in it after finishing their high school diploma. I felt proud to know that my beloved was going to be a teacher. At the same time, I wasn’t unaware of the major discrepancy in our educational levels. I cursed the spinelessness that had moved me to flee from the university, and feelings of dread and dejection came over me. Consequently, I resorted again to my old counselor, the magazine, with the following question: “Is it possible for a highly educated girl to love a young man with nothing but a high school diploma?” In its reply, the magazine mentioned the princess who fell in love with the shepherd!

That night I dreamed of my beloved, and it was the first time she visited me in my sleep.