The Mirage

40

I closed the bedroom door with a trembling hand. This wing of the flat was empty and silent. It was separated from the other, where my mother’s room and the sitting room were located, by two small parlors that opened onto each other. Our room was square, with the bed located in the center. Directly to the right of the entrance there was a long seat covered with pink upholstery, and on the opposite wall were the dressing table and the clothes rack. Rabab went over to the other side of the room and sat down at the dressing table, whose mirrors formed a half-circle around her, thereby framing her with reflected images of herself. She began removing her crown of jasmine blossoms, while I stood in the middle of the room with my elbow resting on the bed’s wooden frame. As I stood there I looked back and forth between her lissome back and her reflections, every one of which made claim to be prettier than all the rest. This room was my world, and with it I would be content. This girl was my share of the universe, and with her I would be content. She was my love, my happiness, and my hope, and from this day forth I would ask the world for nothing more.

My beloved finished removing her crown and began combing out her chestnut locks with the deliberateness of someone who wants to gain as much time as she possibly can. Sooner or later, however, the waiting period was bound to come to an end. And what was to be done then?

Lord! My heart was wakeful and eager, my knees were trembling, and I wondered timorously what the next step would be. I realized, despite my agitation, that we ought to change our clothes. However, I didn’t know how this was supposed to happen when we were both in the same room with the door closed! She seemed to be waiting for me to do or say something. She’d finished arranging her hair, though she was pretending the opposite, and there was a look of uncertainty and embarrassment on her face. I knew some things, this was true. However, there were details that I’d missed, and I was at a loss for both what to do and the determination to do it. If only I’d asked my brother Medhat for information and advice; if only I had friends I could have consulted concerning such matters. Curses on the shyness that stood as a barrier between me and others, including even my own brother! Damn it! I thought. Why won’t it leave me even now that we’re alone together?

I’d had it with my muteness and inaction, and I was furious with myself. I am going to speak, I said to myself, even if it happens to be the weakest expression of faith.

So in a strange sounding voice that I hardly recognized I said, “How beautiful you are.…”

It was the first flirtatious word I’d ever uttered in my life. Aiming her gaze at my reflection in the mirror, she smiled, then looked down and folded her arms over her chest. It wouldn’t do any longer to pretend she was still doing her hair, so she sat there with her arms crossed as though she were waiting. Feeling more awkward than ever, I bit my lip angrily. The matter of changing our clothes seemed like the biggest problem in the world. So were we going to remain in this painful state till morning? Why didn’t I just go over to her and press her to my bosom until the problem had solved itself? But how was I supposed to take this momentous step? I could imagine it, and I could talk to myself about it. As for actually doing it, that was an impossibility. My heart was filled with anguish and rage, and I felt increasingly powerless and humiliated.

Determined at the very least to break out of my silence, I said, “Would you like to change your clothes, sweetheart?”

Figuring I’d arrived at the ideal solution, I took advantage of the opportunity and calmly began taking off my clothes, being careful not to let on how uncomfortable I was feeling. I placed my suit on the bed and picked up my pajamas, which were draped over the long seat. Then I stuffed myself inside them without budging from my place.

I waited for some time, then I asked her, “Are you finished, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” she answered in a whisper.

I got up, and when I did so, I happened to catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I saw that I was still wearing my fez, so I took it off with a smile. Looking timidly over at her, I found her sitting where she had been before. Now, however, she was wrapped in a white silk robe and was sitting with her back to the dressing table. Going back to where I’d been standing before, I rested my elbow on the bed frame and stood there looking at her happily and amorously.

Whenever she looked up at me, I looked down bashfully. We’d finished changing our clothes, but that wasn’t all that had to be done. There seemed to be no end to the night’s problems. My heart longed to embrace her. So what was holding me back?

It was nothing but a step I needed to take. And did a single step need to cause such suffering? My heart was thirsty and full of longing, but my shame was intense and perplexing, and my body was dead and immobile. Was I going to stay this way forever? Why not conceal my sense of lifelessness with conversation? But what would I say? Inner turmoil had tied my tongue, and every minute that passed left me weaker and more agitated. Then all of a sudden and without cause, my thoughts shifted to my mother’s room. Has she gone to sleep? I wondered. Is she imagining what I’m doing now? Shame’s fires blazed all the hotter, and I felt as though I was about to suffocate. For my part, I surrendered to despair and helplessness, wondering: Will we go on in this laughable situation till morning? Deep inside I longed to flee, and I almost wished none of this had ever been!

I was awakened from my gloomy reverie by my beloved’s voice as she said, “It’s hot in here.”

She moved over to the window to open it. Finding the opportunity favorable, I came up behind her and helped her open the window the rest of the way.

This done, my beloved started to retreat. However, like someone crying for help I said, “Why don’t we stand in the window for a little while?”

My beloved answered my cry and we stood side by side only an inch apart. The window overlooked the back of the building, and directly beneath it there was a church garden dotted with tall trees whose rustling sounded like whispers drifting upward in the silence of the night. There wafted over our faces a sultry breeze that I’d longed for the way a little boy longs to reach out and touch the moon. So here we were, separated by little more than a hair’s breadth. I leaned toward her with deliberate slowness and caution, and our clothes touched. Then ever so gradually I began to feel something soft as our sides made contact. I let out an audible sigh that awakened my shyness anew and caused me to slow down somewhat. I was afraid she might resist me or move away from me, which would have caused me to feel defeated all over again and conclude that there was no hope. However, she stayed right where she was, leaning her elbow on the windowsill.

I brought my left hand back slightly, drawing it up behind her until it formed a half-circle around her waist. Then, slowly, cautiously and fearfully, I began narrowing the half-circle until it had come in contact with the folds in her silken robe. The feel of it caused a shudder to go through my heart, and for a second time, I let out an audible sigh. Then, mustering all the courage I had in me, I encircled her waist with my arm. My beloved didn’t move or resist me in any way, so I put thoughts of hesitation and defeat out of my mind. Pulling her toward me with my right arm, I took her into my arms and rested her forehead on my chest as I caressed the part in her hair with my lips.

Then, having gotten beyond my self-consciousness, I murmured, “I love you.”

We remained this way for God knows how long. Then, still locked in our embrace, we stepped back and lay down on the bed without my letting her out of my arms. We rested our shoulders on two downy cushions, with my beloved — still wearing her robe — on my chest and in my arms. Strangely, I didn’t intrude upon her with my eyes. Instead, I looked out the window and directed my gaze heavenward. My soul was filled with an aliveness I’d never known before. As for my body, it remained inert, cold, and unresponsive, as though my soul had soaked up the last drop of my energy. I was filled with a dazzling, spiritual intoxication that was joyous and sublime. And I stayed this way till the break of dawn without knowing how sleep had overcome me.