The Mirage

35

The next morning I went to the tram stop with a new, intoxicating hope. It was as if she’d been waiting for me. I saw her through the window with her head wrapped in a white scarf. Beside myself with happiness, my mouth, my eyes, and my heart all smiled together. I lifted my gaze in her direction with unaccustomed courage, and I rejoiced to see a smile on her lovely face. The era of misery and deprivation had drawn to a close, the darkness in my soul had dispersed, my beloved’s countenance had appeared after a long, tormented absence, and we’d actually become friends who exchange a smile! What an incredible reality! Up until that morning I’d still been afraid that the previous day’s conversation might have meant something other than what I’d understood it to mean. However, after this challenging wait and this radiant smile, I could respond to the call of bliss with an assurance untainted by even the shadow of a doubt. I went to the ministry drunk with ecstasy. How strange the world is. Someone who’s been destined to see its look of displeasure can’t imagine that it would ever bestow such a smile. I drank in the unbelievable reality, my beloved’s smile, and I said to myself: What this means is that the doors of heaven have opened and are showering my heart with consolation. However, it won’t do anymore for me to remain idle or silent.

That afternoon I won a second smile, and the following morning a third, so I felt as though I had to overcome inertia through decisive action. The following Friday morning I left home in my black coat, looking smart and filled with determination and resolve. I found my sweetheart sunning herself on the balcony. After we’d exchanged a smile of greeting, I cast a cautious glance around me and gestured to her to come down and meet me. What audacity! Who would have believed it? I focused my gaze on her in trepidation. She looked back at me serenely, then a sweet smile crossed her lips and she retreated inside. Was she coming to meet me? Lord! I’d spent the entire previous night rehearsing for this hoped-for rendezvous. The younger sister appeared on the balcony and was followed shortly thereafter by the mother, and the two of them began looking in my direction. Did they know? This was what I hoped, since in this way I was more likely to ward off the danger posed by Muhammad Gawdat. My sweetheart appeared in the window as she put on her coat. My heart made a violent leap as I stood there, waiting like someone in a dream. Strangely, though, my feeling of happiness suddenly changed and grew tepid, like a beautiful voice that’s interrupted by a cough. I was gripped by an unnamed fear and a painful confusion, as though I were trying to recall something important that my memory refused to yield. Realizing the seriousness of the step I was about to take, I was overwhelmed with uncertainty and fear and had the urge to flee. The moment passed quickly, however, and I recovered my former confidence and joy. Heaving a sigh of relief, I crossed the sidewalk feeling merry and gay to wait for the love of my yearning heart. Then I saw her emerge through the door of the apartment building — lissome, stylish, and lovely — in a squirrel-gray coat. She walked to the tram stop with her usual dignified gait and stopped some distance from me. Her mother was on the balcony as if to bless the tryst and lend it propriety. Hence, in addition to the happiness I felt, I had a sense of responsibility. The tram that was to transport us arrived and I looked at it with gratitude, praying for its well-being, and asking God to grant its driver happiness and a raise! We got on together and I saw her proceed, contrary to her usual custom, toward the first-class compartment, so I followed her. There was no one in the compartment but a man and a woman, so my girl sat down, blushing with embarrassment. She may have expected me to sit down beside her and greet her. However, my courage failed me, so I sat down on the opposite seat feeling awkward, shy, and annoyed with myself. As the tram took off down the street, I stole mute, patient glances at her until we passed the Abbas Bridge. She rose and left the compartment, with me following close behind, and we got off at the next stop. Then she proceeded in the direction of a street that ran parallel to the Nile and I tagged along. My heart aflutter, I came gradually closer to her feeling desperately shy.

Then, in a voice that was just barely audible I said, “Good morning.”

She smiled without looking at me and murmured no less shyly, “Good morning.”

Her response to my greeting overwhelmed me with delight, and as we walked along side by side I thought fervently: O Lady Umm Hashim, look down upon us! I was truly afraid, and intensely flustered and inhibited. I tried to remember the things I’d rehearsed the day before, but I was feeling so muddled that my mind went blank and I couldn’t find my tongue. We walked quite some distance without my saying a word. How was I supposed to begin the conversation? What could I say? A terrible anguish came over me since I realized, of course, that I was supposed to speak and that it wasn’t fitting for me to be so quiet. Nevertheless, God didn’t inspire me with a single word, and it seemed as though speech were an art I’d never practiced. Then, as if she realized how ill at ease I was, she looked at me with a gentle smile on her lips, and I smiled shyly back.

The only thing I could think of to say was another, “Good morning!”

“Good morning!” she replied, her smile broader this time.

Lord! Had my vocabulary gone bankrupt? And I fell back into the same torment once again. I felt as though a couple of iron hands were squeezing my neck and that I couldn’t bear this miserable situation a single moment longer. Hopelessness and timidity had such a hold on me that I cried out to her for help, saying, “I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say. This is the first time I’ve talked to a girl!”

She let a short laugh escape in spite of herself and, as though my very shyness had emboldened her, she said playfully, “Actually, it’s the second.”

Ah! She was referring to my pursuit of her three days earlier. I remembered it in astonishment, as though I weren’t really her courageous hero. Be that as it may, her playfulness emboldened me and alleviated my awkwardness and shyness. It also enabled me to say, “Please don’t think badly of me. I swear to God, if my tongue weren’t tied, I’d have a whole world of things to say.”

She laughed, looking up and aiming her glance more fully at me.

Then she said, “Do you realize we haven’t introduced ourselves yet?”

Here was a question I could answer. If only the conversation could have been questions on her part, and answers on mine.

Feeling relieved, I said, “Kamil Ru’ba Laz, employee at the Ministry of War.”

I wished I could tell her about my monthly income and my anticipated fortune.

As for her, she said, “Rabab Gabr, teacher at the Abbasiya Kindergarten.”

I loved the name just as I’d loved the person to whom it belonged.

“Rabab!” I said, as though I wanted to hear the way it sounded one more time.

Feeling heartened and more familiar with her now, I said simply, “Imagine! I’ve been stealing glances at your face for two years now, and I still didn’t even know your name!”

“Two years!” she exclaimed as a look of astonishment came over her pretty face.

Pleased by the fact that she was so surprised, I said enthusiastically, “Yes, it’s been nearly two years. Hadn’t you noticed?”

I listened intently so as to drink in the voice that I’d longed to hear for so long.

“I only noticed a few months ago!” she said with a laugh. “How patient you are!”

There was a barb in her words, of that I was certain. It was as if she were saying, “What kept you quiet for so long that you nearly missed your chance?” Taking advantage of the opportunity to declare what I wished I could have declared long before, I said, “I was prevented from saying anything by difficult circumstances. I couldn’t propose to you when I wasn’t qualified to do so. Then the circumstances changed and my situation improved. It wasn’t long after that that I approached you on the tram, though I was so crazy, I acted in a way that was out of character for me. The fact is that once I was able to come forward, I only waited a matter of days, even though I.…” I nearly said, “even though I’d loved you for two years,” but the words wouldn’t come out.… “Even though what you know to be the case had been so for two years.”

She looked straight ahead with a faint smile on her face, saying, “And what is it that I know to be the case?”

I fell silent for a few moments as I gathered my strength. Then I said, “You know that I.…”

My lips formed the words, “I love you” without uttering them aloud. However, she saw and understood without a doubt. As my heart nearly beat out of my chest, I lowered my gaze bashfully and went into a passing stupor that absented me from everything around me as though I’d momentarily exited the universe. I looked over at her furtively and found her blushing, with a pensive, serious look on her face. This was a sacred moment. Indeed, time labors under the burden of the weighty moments that have been witnessed by humanity in the course of its history. However, this kind of moment remains among the most glorious of all that time has known. Nor is its weightiness diminished by the fact that it takes place thousands of times every day all over the world. It’s the only thing that’s repeated time and time again without ever becoming wearisome. After all, how could it — love — become wearisome when it contains the very secret of existence? I couldn’t take her into my arms — not because of the orange-laden caravan of camels that happened to be passing by, but rather because I wasn’t allowed to touch her at all. We walked some distance without saying a word, my timidity preventing me from elaborating on this particular point. Rethinking the matter from its other angles, I said with a smile, “What happened with Muhammad Gawdat?”

Staring at me incredulously, she asked, “How did you know about him?”

She listened with rapt attention as I told her the story of the meeting that had taken place between the two of us.

Then she said, “He’s a virtuous, respectable man and a high-ranking employee, and my father welcomed him. As for my mother, she wasn’t terribly enthusiastic about his proposal since he’s so much older than I am. Besides, he’s been married before and he has a fifteen-year-old daughter. I told my mother about our meeting on the street three days ago, and she stipulated that they need to know everything about you before she says what she thinks.”

My heart fluttered with a combination of trepidation and joy.

Though there was no need to inquire, I asked her, “And does she know about this meeting of ours?”

She smiled without making any reply. I remembered my job uneasily and with embarrassment. However, it didn’t even occur to me to lie or change the facts.

I said, “As I’ve told you, I’m an employee at the Ministry of War. However, I have a monthly income of sixteen pounds from family endowments. In addition, I own more than a thousand pounds. I have nothing to be ashamed of in my past, and if they should inquire about me, you’ll see that I’ve told nothing but the truth.”

She smiled and said earnestly, “Of that there’s absolutely no doubt.”

I gazed over at her with profound gratitude. At that moment I thought back on the longing and misery I’d endured on her account, and I was flooded with a joy that defies words. At the same time I wondered fearfully: Will I come up to her mother’s standards? Won’t she despise my lowly position, or not find me worthy of this lovable teacher? My heart shrank in terror, and I thought of telling her what was troubling me, but timidity got the better of me.

Then a new thought occurred to me and I asked her without hesitation, “Will you continue in your job if things turn out the way I hope?”

“Why not?” she replied. “I adore my work, and lots of my colleagues.…”

Realizing what she’d been about to say, my heart fluttered joyously and I cast her a timid look filled with hopefulness and affection.

“That’s good,” I said approvingly.

Silence reigned briefly, and the sound of our footsteps on the sunlight-strewn boulevard seemed to grow louder. I glanced over at the Nile and saw its dark surface rippling beneath the scattered pearls of light. I began peering nervously and warily into the faces of the few passersby. The sun had tempered the chill in the air, causing a joyous energy to flow through our beings. I could feel life’s goodness in a way I’d never felt it before, and I was filled with such gratitude I wished I could kneel down and kiss the earth in thanksgiving. However, I hadn’t forgotten the serious matters that were preoccupying me, or what appeared to me to be serious matters.

So I asked her, “Tell me now what I’m supposed to do.”

“What do you mean?” she asked in bewilderment.

“I’m supposed to ask for your hand,” I said uncertainly.

She looked straight ahead, puzzled, and said nothing.

At a loss, I asked her, “How … how do people usually get engaged?”

She giggled and said gently, “Through matchmakers, or through personal contact. Don’t you know about these things?”

Her mention of matchmakers reminded me of my mother, and my heart shrank in terror. Then I wondered to myself: Do I have the tact and courage it takes to make the needed personal contact?

It was then that I realized I didn’t know a thing about her father, so I said, “Could you tell me something about your father?”

Eyeing me doubtfully, she murmured, “Don’t you know anything about him?”

Simply and honestly I replied, “Unfortunately, I don’t.”

I realized then that she thought I’d been busily finding out everything I needed to know about the family I aspired to marry into, and she was wondering why on earth I hadn’t lifted a finger throughout the entire time I’d loved her, content with nothing but gazes, longing, and despair.

In a tone not without a touch of pride, she said, “Gabr Bey Sayyid, irrigation inspector for the Ministry of Labor.”

“I’d be honored to make his acquaintance,” I said reverently.

I was aware of the weight of responsibility that now lay on my shoulders. However, I had no choice but to say, “I’ll meet with him myself. When would be a convenient time?”

“Sometime next week, since he’ll be going away after that on a routine inspection tour. But after he comes home from the ministry he rarely goes out.”

We’d walked quite a long way by this time, so I suggested that we turn back. So we turned around and started heading back. We exchanged only a few words during our return. I was so happy, I thought I must be dreaming. However, not for a moment did I lose sight of the seriousness of the step I was about to take.