The Beginning and the End (24 page)

Worried and depressed, he remained alone; his worry increased as time went by. He no longer entertained any doubt that his secret had been discovered. In his attempt at reassuring himself, he wondered why his imagination was running wild. He hoped that his mother's visit would end in peace. Surely they would not hint at anything. Yet would she fail to discover the truth if she saw Ihsan? In the gathering darkness, he rose and lit a kerosene lamp. Then, hearing a knock on the door, his heart beat violently. He opened it for his mother to enter.

“I don't think I was away for long,” she said.

They both entered the room. He stood leaning on the windowsill. Silently she started to take off her overcoat and shoes.

I know it,
he thought.
Her face is hiding something, many things. I'll bet she didn't go to the trouble of traveling to Tanta just to be reassured about my health. My mother is not that weak. She is kind indeed, but unquestionably strong. When will this dreadful silence end?

“How did you find them?” he asked with pretended indifference.

Climbing onto his bed, she sat cross-legged.

“I don't know why, but my heart didn't feel at home with them,” she said curtly.

But he knew the reason. His secret had been discovered, much to his dismay.

“The truth is that Hassan Effendi is a good-hearted man,” he said.

“Perhaps! I haven't met him, of course.”

He would not inquire what caused her uneasiness with them. Better ignore it. But he couldn't ignore it for long. He saw her looking at her hands, lying clasped in her lap. She was thinking
of what she should say. What a serious blunder he'd made! He should not have yielded to the circumstances that tempted him not to send any money to them this month. He, the head of the family, and how far he'd gone astray! He saw his mother looking sullenly at him.

“Now that I'm reassured about your health,” he heard her say, “I don't think it shameful to tell you frankly that we were frightened when you stopped sending us the money. Excuse me, my son, if I confess to you that I had some doubts that your illness might be a mere pretext!”

“Mother!” he cried in spite of himself.

“Forgive me, my son; sometimes it's sinful to doubt. But for a long time I've been pondering the temptations that beset a lonely young man like you in a strange town. Yes, I trust your wisdom. But Satan is clever, and I was afraid that he might have led you astray. Since you know that my dependence on you is next to my dependence on God, you can easily imagine the extent of my grief. Your brother Hassan is no longer a member of our family. Nefisa is an unfortunate girl. And Hassanein is only a student and will remain so for a long time to come. You know him better than we do. We lead a starving, miserable life to overcome our bad luck. Besides, we've lost your share of your late father's pension, and shortly we'll lose that of your brother.”

“I need no reminder, Mother,” Hussein said passionately. “It was a mistake. I was forced not to send you the money. I'm really sorry, Mother.”

She spoke tenderly as if in a soliloquy. “It's I who am sorry.” Then, after a pause, she added, “I'm sorry that I often give the impression of getting in the way of my sons' happiness.”

“You're doing yourself great injustice,” he said with concern. “As a mother, you're the model of clemency.”

“I'm glad you understand me.” Looking into his eyes, she sighed. “Nothing preoccupies my mind so much as the future of your sister, Nefisa. I wish to see her married. But how? We
don't possess a single millieme for her trousseau. It disturbs me deeply to think that I may die before getting her married. You're men, but she's a helpless woman with no support.”

“As long as we're alive, she won't be without support,” Hussein replied disapprovingly.

“May God prolong your life,” she said, sighing again. “But a girl finds no happiness under a married brother's roof!”

A knowing look appeared in his eyes. He understood the implication of his mother's words. Since a girl found no happiness in her married brother's house, and since Hassanein was almost married, it followed that Hussein should remain single! Sound logic! And compassionate, too! Yet it entailed his death sentence. What could he say? Now he was no longer afraid of her blows, such as she sometimes used to deal to him. But he could not take advantage of this sense of safety to anger her. On the contrary, he would turn it into an innocent incentive to treat her with exaggerated generosity.

“Rest assured, Mother! I hope Nefisa won't find herself one day in this impasse!”

Intimating that he should put equivocation aside and speak frankly, she shook her head. “In fact, certain lingering thoughts still preoccupy me,” she said. “Despite the trouble and expense of travel, I couldn't rest until I came to you.”

He smiled. “This means that you didn't come just to reassure yourself about my health?” The words came forth almost unconsciously, and no sooner had he uttered them than be regretted that they had escaped his lips.

She smiled at him sadly. “Listen to me, Hussein. Do you want to marry?” she asked.

To hide his agitation, he pretended to be upset. “I wonder what makes you think so!” he said.

“Nothing would be dearer to me than to see my sons happily married, but do you want to rush into marriage before your family is able to get on its feet?”

“I've never thought of this.”

“Are you annoyed by my intrusion?”

“Never.”

“If I suggested that you postpone any thoughts of marriage, wouldn't you consider it unfair?”

“This would be fairness and charity in themselves.”

She lowered her eyes. “My real misery,” she said sadly, “doesn't lie in the catastrophe that has befallen us, but in what I see to be our duty, which might seem cruel and selfish to any person who has only a superficial view of our situation.”

“I'm not such a person, anyhow.”

After a moment of hesitation, she said, “Seeing that you are sympathetic with what I say encourages me to advise you to leave this flat and go back to your room at the hotel.”

His secret was now unearthed. He was stunned.

“The hotel?” he inquired with a murmur.

“You're ignorant of people,” she said firmly. “Perhaps your neighbors are good folk. But they care only for their own interests. Your neighborly relations with them will turn you against us without your realizing it.”

They did not speak of this subject again. Unlike many of her sex, Samira was not a chatterbox. They had spent Friday morning in complete happiness, partly in Hussein's flat before setting out for the town on a visit to the tomb of the saintly al-Sayed al-Badawi. But as she was determined to go to the railway station that morning, he was forced to acquiesce. On reaching the station, he bought a ticket for his mother. While they waited for the train, he said to her, “I'll remain in the flat until the end of this month, because, as you know, I've already paid the rent.”

In answer, she prayed for him to do the right thing. When the train arrived, she said goodbye. Boarding a third-class carriage, she was squeezed in with a throng of villagers of both sexes. At this first experience in his life of seeing her off, a heavy depression came over him. The sight of the departing train and the lonely figure of his mother, surrounded by misery in a mean third-class carriage, cut him to the heart. Depressed and absorbed in thought, he returned home.

I'm to blame,
he thought.
I'm paying the price of my folly. What devil is singling me out for his temptation? This is the second time for me. Failure always chooses me. No escape.

Hassan Effendi's servant came to invite his mother to dinner, and Hussein told him she had left for Cairo. Later, when the servant returned to invite him as usual to spend the evening in Hassan Effendi's house, he accepted at once.

The balcony window being tightly closed because it was winter, the two men sat around the backgammon table inside the room.

“Why did your mother return so quickly?” Hassan Effendi asked.

“Our home can't spare her for more than a day,” Hussein answered, smiling.

“She arrived on Thursday and departed on Friday. It's a journey that's not worth the trouble of traveling by train.”

“But this journey accomplished what she wanted. She reassured herself about me, and she paid a visit to al-Sayed's tomb and invoked his blessings!”

The man pointed toward the interior of the flat. “They've told me she is a very good-natured lady,” he said. “Your good-naturedness outweighs hers.” His bleary eyes blinking, the man added, “We hoped she would visit us before she left!”

“She was in such a hurry,” Hussein said. “I tried to persuade her to postpone her departure till the afternoon. But she excused herself, saying that her family needed her.”

“We had prepared a good dinner for her, for which I myself had selected three fat chickens,” the man said with regret.

Confused, Hussein smiled. “I hope you enjoyed eating them,” he muttered.

The man laughed, and opened the backgammon table. But instead of arranging the counters to start the game, he inquired with interest, “Didn't you tell her of our agreement?”

Hussein felt embarrassed. “No,” he said.

“Why not?”

“How is it possible for me to broach this subject with her while she considers me responsible for the family?”

The man seized the die in his hand, rattled and cast it. Then he added, “You're too apprehensive. Your mother would have been happy to hear this piece of news.”

“It would make her happy only if it came at the right time.”

The man laughed aloud. “I've my own special philosophy, which is to throw oneself fearlessly into the surge of life. Have you ever heard of anyone starving in Egypt?” he said slowly.

“That's because our people are accustomed to hunger!”

Laughing, Hassan Effendi continued. “All people survive. In the twinkling of an eye, people change. Children grow up, the
pupils become employees, and the celibate get to be married men. The only losers are those who are full of fear as you are. This is life.”

Full of fear? Annoyed at the words, he revolted inwardly against them. This was not fear, but an adequate awareness of the situation. Would he be courageous if he let this woman down, left her in the lurch?! This was not fear. Only foolish men misunderstood him. Disappointed in his hopes, he found no one who would show him mercy or understand him. As his thoughts reached this stage, he suddenly detected in them a strange flavor. Though people might misunderstand him, the feeling that he was in the right delighted him. Moreover, his delight resulted from a sense of being always misunderstood although always in the right. It was a mysterious delight similar to that which people experience when they resign themselves to the harsh verdict of fate.

“Hassan Effendi,” he said with a smile, “since your family was a large one, it's impossible for you to understand the troubles of a family like ours.”

The man hid an arrogant smile under a façade of pretended grimness. “Deal with your problems as you like,” he said. “But don't forget yourself. God said, ‘Don't forget your share of this world.' Things are destined to ripen. In another few months, your brother will obtain the baccalaureate, which will change the situation. Throw the die and see who will begin the game.”

Two weeks later he received a letter from Hassanein telling him that he had paid the examination fees and was constantly studying, determined to succeed. Confident of his brother's intelligence and ability, Hussein had no doubt he would pass. Though it was not in his nature to yield to the enchantment of dreams, he tended these days to entertain them. However, although he did not believe in these fantasies, Hussein imagined in his reverie that once his brother had obtained his certificate, he would get a job to relieve Hussein's burden. Thus he could visualize himself embarking on a new, happy life with an easy conscience. He did not hope for more than a secure married life. His lonely days in his barren flat taught him the value of having a family, for which he was as eager as a homeless person for a shelter to protect him from the pouring rain. He could not bear to frequent restaurants to take his meals. He seemed afraid to remain alone in his room even for a short time. He was at once fatigued and fed up with his bachelor's life, which required continuous attention to his flat, furniture, and clothes. And this itself dwindled into insignificance in comparison with the hunger and yearning in his heart. He was not in love with this particular girl so much as he was with the femaleness and conjugal life she represented. As the tangible ideal of his dreams, his heart yearned for her, becoming the more attached to her since he saw very little of her except on certain rare, happy occasions. At first Hussein thought that they were hiding her from him. But later it became clear to him that Hassan Effendi was a genuinely conservative man, tolerant up to a point but not beyond the limits of decency. If Hassanein agreed to get a job, this would make it possible for Hussein to go directly to his girl,
marry her, and lead a true life. This was his dream. But realizing it was merely a dream, he did not know when it would come true. Hassanein would continue his education, and he himself should accept this without resentment. He must wait for life to run its course as God ordained.

But one evening an unexpected event made it clear to him that he would not enjoy this interval of waiting in peace and security. Immediately after he finished having tea with Hassan Effendi, the latter said to him, “An important matter, worth discussing with you, has recently come up.”

Inquiring, Hussein raised his eyes. The man said seriously, “Ihsan's cousin, a merchant and farmer in Beheira province, wants to ask for her hand. But before deciding this matter, I thought I'd better ask your opinion.”

So shocking was this inauspicious surprise that it left the young man incredulous, dumbfounded, defeated, and bewildered. In fact, although he had some doubt as to how true it was, he found himself at an impasse, which his suspicions failed to overcome. He felt the resentment of a man whose circumstances forced him to waver and reduced him to a state of speechlessness. What should he say to the man?! If he agreed to marry, he would betray his family; and if he refused, all connections between him and Hassan Effendi would be severed. In spite of his agitation and bewilderment, he pictured the face of the girl on whom he had pinned his hopes, feeling the grip of despair closing about his neck. Disguising his increasing resentment, the young man cast a cold look on his tormentor; the man patiently scrutinized his face.

To break the long silence, the man inquired, “Hussein Effendi, what do you have to say about this?”

Knowing that he must speak, Hussein replied beseechingly, “There is nothing I can add to the detailed account I've already given you of our family circumstances.”

Sounding bored, the man said, “Your brother will be finishing his studies at the beginning of next summer.”

“But as far as I can see, he is determined to continue his education.”

The man became annoyed. “This is a silly idea to which you must not submit and you must not bear responsibility for it,” he said.

Seeking to avert this danger, Hussein was as evasive as a mouse hiding itself uselessly behind the leg of a chair.

“I can announce the engagement right now on condition that I can wait for a period of time before I marry,” he said.

“For how many years?” Hassan Effendi asked warmly.

Oh! The man thought that he was concerned only for his brother; he was almost unaware of Nefisa and her problem. Hussein genuinely wished he could blurt out the whole truth to him. Extremely fearful, he answered, “Four years.” Hussein looked at him to see the effect of this declaration. “Waiting will do us no harm. Don't you trust me?” he said hurriedly.

Making a wry face, the man shook his head. “Four years!” he said with dreadful calm. “Who knows whether by then we'll be alive? Do you want me to tell her mother that I've refused her cousin, who wants to marry her now, to keep her waiting four years more? Hussein Effendi, it seems to me you weren't serious about your desire!”

Shaking in his agony, Hussein shouted, “May God forgive you, Hassan Effendi! I'm a faithful man and I still stick to my honest purpose. I see no reason why any obstacle should get in our way.”

“You simply don't see the reason because you're in the position of neither a father nor a mother. Now, put all arguments aside. Can't you get married this year?”

A long silence prevailed. But Hussein uttered not a word. He had nothing to say. For a long time he remained both thoughtful and perplexed. Desperate and defeated, he pressed his lips. Hassan Effendi smiled faintly, compressing his lips in turn, his small oval face anguished and immobile. A long, strained silence fell upon them, and an odor of unfriendliness, intolerable to their
nerves, spread like the hot dust carried by the winds of the khamsin, which blew up off the desert. However, Hussein, not bearing to take the first step in cutting off relations, asked dejectedly, as though predicting the answer, “Can't you wait?”

“No,” the man nervously replied.

Embarrassed and pained, Hussein remained for a while. Then, taking his leave, he rose and departed. So intense was his sadness and despair that he left the flat with unseeing eyes, knowing that never again would he return to it. Back in his room, he lit the kerosene lamp and flung himself on the bed. He viewed everything around him with discontent and hostility. At this moment he hated not only himself but humanity at large.
Am I weak or strong?
he thought.
What have I done with myself? Is it daring and courage or just contemptible flight? Everything appears detestable to me; I'll be leaving this room, with the lonely room at the hotel waiting to engulf me. Perhaps the man imagines that he can annoy me in my work at school! Damn him; he will find me tougher than he thinks. But of what use is it all? Death is more merciful than hope itself! There is nothing surprising in this, for death is divinely appointed, while hope is the creation of human folly. Both end in frustration. Am I destined to lead a life of endless frustration? Why doesn't Hassanein get a job on the baccalaureate? Why doesn't he want for me what he wants for himself?

He became extremely vexed. Finding his loneliness intolerable, he took his suit from the peg, dressed, and left the house. The night was cold. He continued to roam the streets until he tired of walking, and finally went to a coffeehouse. Unexpectedly invigorated by the walk and the cold air, and calmer than before, he took a seat in the café. To pass the time, he watched the people sitting in the coffeehouse, listening to whatever scraps of their conversations reached his ears. These were not devoid of amusing remarks that made him smile. His mad fury subsided, leaving him in deep but mute sorrow, tinged with remorse. He wondered whether he should have agreed with the man. But would this man have been pleased if he had left his
own family to the mercy of fate?! He realized his own folly, that he had a right to be sorrowful but no right to feel so furiously angry. Besides, it was foolish to surrender to sorrow. He knew that as long as he allowed irrationality to sway him he could not banish sorrow from his life, not for a long time to come. All the same, he believed that ultimately everything would come to an end. Even this choking sorrow would eventually be relieved. Like a person attempting to shake off a nightmare, he awaited this relief. Life's miseries had taught him that one day it was bound to come. And when it came, he would experience no regret, but would have every reason for pride and the peace of an easy conscience. His sense of duty outweighed all his other emotions. How wide of the mark was Hassan's accusation that he was fearful! To him it was enough that his mother understood him and considered him her hope and her consolation. Suffering in the pain of his present grief, he smiled at the prospect of hope.