Rain over Baghdad: A Novel of Iraq (61 page)

I burst out laughing. Hilmi Amin said, “This is not a joke. Your analysis of a situation should be through reading characters in motion. Simply speaking, Sadat wants money. The shah with his wealth is an easy prey.”

I said, “The whole region is afraid of Iran exporting its revolution. Saudi Arabia, Egypt, and Iraq are afraid. The shah who played the role of America’s policeman in the region was easier to take than Khomeini.”

He said, “Any imbalance in the region will have repercussions on the balance of power. The region will not achieve stability without this balance. When America lost Iran, it threw its full weight into Afghanistan, on the Soviet borders. The Soviets will not accept that because these are their borders and they have strong, direct relations with the cities of Soviet Asia, close to the borders. America is far away, separated by an ocean. That is why the conflict in Afghanistan will be violent and there will be more weakening of the left in Egypt and the Arab region, so that the Soviet Union would not have its old influence in the region and so that the whole region would turn to a market economy and all socialist gains would collapse: the huge factories owned by the state, iron and steel, textiles, and everything that has anything to do with that industry and the workers because they are, of necessity, amenable to being organized and educated. All of that would be just for the region to once again be a mere market for their goods.”

I felt hungry and cold, despite the heavy coat that my mother had given me. I am still your child, mother. What should I eat? Roast duck? A cheese sandwich and some tea, if possible. I reached in my handbag looking for any money that I had left and began to read the price list. I gave some money to the waiter. I still had enough for another order. They should have provided me with meals, because it was they who delayed me from my flight. But I didn’t want any conversation with them. As a matter of fact, I didn’t want to see them at all. The shift of that officer who brought me to this place
might be over and I might have to deal with some crazy officer who wants to start the whole story all over again. Let me stay here in hiding until the plane arrives safely. And whoever comes again to this country deserves what happens to them. A ball came rolling toward me. I looked up and saw a beautiful child coming to retrieve it. I kicked it toward him. He stood there clapping, then picked up the ball and pushed it toward me.

I said, “That’s nice.”

I opened Anhar’s notebook and started reading again.

Sadness is My Companion

I said to Hilmi in alarm, “Why are you so sad?”

He said, “It’s loneliness. You don’t know how sad it is for a man who doesn’t have a god. Sadness is my companion.”

I said, laughing, in an attempt to cheer him up, “If sadness is your companion, then you have a companion.”

He said, “Gods are humanity’s greatest inventions. Do you know how desolate life would be without gods?”

I said, “I love God. I see Him in all living creatures and in inanimate objects also. I don’t see anything wrong with my economic belief in Karl Marx and my belief in God at the same time.”

He said, “How lucky! At least you can ask God whatever you want.”

I said: “But that’s an opportunistic point of view. Do this and this and you will have a palace in Paradise. A relationship with God is much more lofty.”

He said, “I didn’t mean that, of course: you could be asking for forgiveness and security, hope for the future or keeping in touch. But a man without a god is a lonely, sad man.”

I said, “Why don’t you have a god?”

He said, “I wish I were like that primitive man who worshiped whatever he feared: fire, wind, the sun, the moon. But I cannot worship that which I fear.”

I took him in my arms. I didn’t hide my tears. His sadness was pure, like a blue flame.

*

Sleep assailed me suddenly. Anhar Khayun’s notebook fell from my hands. I felt my whole body trembling despite the change in the temperature. I put the notebook in my bag for fear of losing it and stretched on the seat after bringing another seat closer to my feet. I covered myself with the coat and decided to yield to the angel of sleep, but I couldn’t. I went once again to Anhar’s papers. I made a guess where I had stopped earlier and began reading again.

A Battle

Angry words came rushing out of his mouth. His ears quivered. The color of his eyes changed and I felt that the hair on his chin and face got longer whenever the hurtful words came out of his mouth. Those were words that had come from the black depth of his soul. It was obvious that he had been awake since yesterday. I do not know how he interacted with the office employees or how he handled his day’s work.

I asked him in great alarm, “What’s wrong?”

He said, “Don’t play the game of the good angel and the accursed devil.”

I didn’t say a word. I knew I was now standing at the gate of hell’s circle. He went on without waiting for my reaction, “I don’t want to hear your words. It’s up to you to choose the solution. The story is over and you have to pay the price. The only thing I am thinking of right now is revenge. So, don’t push me there.”

I said, “I …”

He interrupted me saying, “I hate you. I have never hated anyone in my life but you.”

I said, feeling a very bitter taste in my mouth, “So, what is required of me now?”

He swallowed, placed his feet on the small table in front of him, lit a cigarette, and said, “You are the stupidest person I’ve known. So, don’t let foolishness take you down a dead end. One of these days you’ll suddenly find yourself no more than a leaf tossed by the wind.”

I suspected he may have had too much to drink, something he wasn’t used to. I became obsessed with just one wish: to get it over with and go away.

I said, “Tell me and I’ll do it.”

He said, “Don’t play the smart woman. Be brief.”

“I will be.”

“I’ve made a star of you. You were just one of hundreds of women journalists. Now, you are writing for five newspapers, you’re on TV every week. And yet, you’re still at the beginning of the road. One kick from me will bring you down. But I am postponing my revenge for the time being.”

He fell silent and kept smoking and darkening the room with smoke. I waited to understand what was twisting his features, what event he was still hiding but which was causing him to lose it.

He asked me, “Did you go to the studio today?”

“No,” I said.

He said, “Why not? You should have seen the remaining shots.”

I said, “I didn’t have the time. I can go directly from the agency.”

He said, “I warn you. The movie is over. You won’t work with him again. One adolescent here and another there! Abd al-Rahim, heh?” His voice became louder and sharper, “He’s just a party candidate.”

“Who are you talking about?”

“I advise you to hide from view for some time. Everyone’s figured you and your game out. Everyone hates you. Do you hear? Everyone hates you. Go to them now and you’ll find out for yourself.”

“You say that I’ll pay the price. Fine. I will. But please raise the price and tell me what happened and I’ll pay that too.”

“I am done. I am not adding another word. You have to find a way of paying your debts.”

“Agreed. So, what do you want me to do, now?”

“You want to go, but I’ll wait for you tomorrow. You know that I know how to get you.”

“Agreed. And this is my word of honor. You know how to get to
solutions quickly and that’s great.”

“Keep your advice for yourself. You are so very self-confident, I can see. I will not allow a mere adolescent to … to … I told you that one day you’ll destroy yourself, but you didn’t listen. I told you what your weakness was, but you didn’t pay attention. You are in love with that weakness and you will pay with your life for a whim. I am not stupid. I’ve given you all my life and you will pay for the way you squandered it.”

“Are you talking about giving? I won’t discuss what you’ve given, but if all I had was a single piece of bread and I gave that, it’s all I had. And yet, I’ll pay and you won’t know the reason why.”

“I told you not to play the angel to my devil.”

“You’re living in delusions and I’ll leave you to your delusions.”

I ran toward the stairs. I don’t know how he could change from the wonderful, intelligent, bright intellectual that he is to that primitive, ill-tempered human being. What did I do yesterday with Abd al-Rahim? Just a few innocent laughs, a few photos of the whole group on the occasion of the visit by Fathallah and the rest of the gang. Had it not been for this accursed jealousy, I would have become his wife. Inside me the word “wife” echoed, but I ignored it and started thinking of the barrier that has been building between us, tirelessly, stone by stone. But today’s stone has made me feel weary and suffocated. I stood in front of the blue building on Sheikhaly Street. I cast a glance, then crossed the street. I stopped thinking. I didn’t want to face all the disquieting questions and I did not want my heart to experience that fear of loss. I found myself at Nasr Square. I got on the minibus but before it started moving I discovered that I had forgotten my bag, in which were some articles that I had to deliver to
Alif Baa
magazine the following morning. I got off after some hesitation and went back to the office and rang the bell. There was no answer, even though I was sure he was inside. I opened the door with my key. The whole place was pitch dark. It seemed that Hilmi had gone to sleep as soon as I left. I noticed a faint light coming
from the direction of his residence. I knew he was awake. I took my bag from the office but when I opened the door to go out, I couldn’t just go. So I returned, and moved toward his bedroom just to make sure he was all right. I knocked on the door, then opened it. He was lying down on the bed, smoking, letting the cigarette burn without returning it to the ashtray. I saw the ashes extend, still in place.

I said, “Hilmi, can you please tell me what I’ve done? What’s upsetting you?”

Without removing the cigarette from his mouth he said, “Nothing.”

I don’t know why he looked older than any time I had seen him in my life. I took one step toward him, but he said, “Please go. I want to rest.”

I said, “I won’t rest as long as I am so much in the dark.”

He said, “My nerves are tired. It’s not your fault. Come tomorrow.”

I suddenly caught sight of a glass of water on the nightstand, on the bottom of which was a rose-colored object with white edges. I looked more closely at Hilmi’s wrinkled face and his lips tightly pursed around the cigarette like a petticoat on the waist of a ballerina. He had taken off his dentures and placed them in the glass. I realized why he was so taciturn and why he didn’t want to speak with me. I felt pity toward him and said, “Goodnight.”

I left, greeted by the street’s hot air. I still didn’t know why he was so mad at me, even though he mentioned Abd al-Rahim by name. For the first time I felt his real weakness, his inability to confront me. I realized the age difference. I knew he was twenty-five years older, but he was the only one with whom I felt secure, and who gave to me without expecting anything in return. That’s not true. He was giving you in return for your work and enjoying your body to boot. But I also was enjoying it. What kind of enjoyment, my dear? He was sucking life out of you, your youth and your beauty. Are you able to stop the pain that tears you apart as you postpone reaching your climax? Do you realize what this is doing to your
body? Didn’t Umm Abed tell you that he had left his imprint on you forever and that you would not be able to be a wife, because you were no longer a virgin in the true sense of the word? That virginity meant newness in feelings and in your body receiving your first man. Right now you are not a virgin even if your body has kept that gate intact. But couldn’t a woman marry twice because she was widowed or divorced? Yes. But she would not be a virgin and her new husband would know that. Can you tell your husband of this experience that you had? Would he be able to go the distance that Hilmi went with you until you reached your climax? You’ve killed your feelings with him without knowing it. No. Stop. Weren’t you scared by his toothless face? Yes. I was. I suddenly realized how old he was, as if he had just come out of a tomb. And I want that young man who can run with me, dance with me, travel, play, eat, and get hungry. I want a normal life. He has alerted you to the joy and ecstasy you feel when you are among the young, unlike the feelings you have when you are among his friends. Do you remember the last time you met with that group of Egyptian journalists, Saad al-Tayih, Saad Zaghlul Fuad, Fathi Khalil, Galal al-Sayyid, and Ahmad Abbas Salih? Do you remember how they talked and talked with their wives and about their illnesses? The hours passed slowly until midnight without you uttering a single word, looking from one to the other as they told stories about symptoms and diseases with which they were all familiar: diabetes, hypertension, slipped disks, and heart problems, then talking about glaucoma and cataracts. Didn’t you feel stifled and bored with those assemblies and look for ways to get out of them? Didn’t you always make sure that Nora would be there because she was your age? Did you think he hadn’t noticed that? Have you figured out why he was so mad at you during the trip to Basra, when he noticed that Kazim was interested in you? His anger at you today is very much like his anger back then, nothing more. Believe me. I indeed feel more optimistic among younger people, chatting about things that make us laugh, not because we are Iraqis, but because we are all the same age. If Hilmi keeps behaving like that, I won’t
be able to live with him. Tomorrow I’ll tell him that our fights have gotten to be so frequent and so bad that they have outweighed the moments of happiness we have together.

I had a restless sleep, waking up in fright only to find that time was not moving forward. The hours conspired to prevent the morning from coming. I spent the worst day of my life at the agency, grouchy, not wanting to have anything to do with anyone, replying to my colleagues in such an unfriendly manner that everybody got mad at me. I headed for the office after loitering on Saadun Street, looking at the shop windows of the bookstores without buying anything. I found him waiting for me calmly. I gave him the latest agency bulletin and pointed out my remarks on its contents. Our work was done.