“You see that branch?” said Lilly. Her slightly hoarse voice, often pleasant to the ear as it whispered warmly into it, now gave him chills, like chalk scratching on a blackboard. All the legends and fairies and castles evaporated into thin air.
“I see lots of branches,” he answered impatiently.
“No, I mean that branch,” she insisted and pointed. “You see that one?”
“Yes,” he said, just to get her to shut up. If she did, he might be able to recover some of the magic. But the clock chimed midnight, the carriage stopped in its tracks and became a pumpkin once more, and not even a slipper remained on the steps. He kicked a pebble.
“Look! The palm tree is writing something in the sky,” said Lilly.
“Writing?” What was she yammering about? She was always setting little traps for him, and as careful as he tried to be, he always got caught in her web. “What is it writing?” he asked with an ironic smile.
“It’s writing … hold on … ‘Da-vid … David and …’ what? ‘David and Lilly,’ yes, ‘David and Lilly …’ hold on, there’s more: ‘Ma … David and Lilly, married!’”
“That palm tree is practically a prophet,” David said, trying to sound sarcastic. “It knows things about me that even I don’t know.”
“It’s written, David. It’s written in the sky that you and I are meant to be. I didn’t make it up. It says so in le petit Livre du bon Dieu. It also includes a date.”
“Oh, yeah? And when is this blessed day?”
“We don’t know. But He knows. Nothing we do will make any difference — you and I will be married and have children.” She fixed her eyes on him, small like coffee beans. She certainly annoyed him even then, but now he was even more annoyed with himself, realizing that he, with his own hands, brought about what she called “inevitable.”
Ten days of silence, and then, as if the wavering palm branch was the one writing the letter over the paper in the sky: I W I L L.
Emilie was delighted — a wedding was always a happy ending. Somebody up there heard her yearning for a grandchild. Lilly Elhadeff was a good girl, and todo es por lo bueno. She sighed. Why did she sigh? Who knows?
Victor hated Lilly Elhadeff the moment he first laid eyes on her. She tried to befriend him, even buying him gifts from time to time, but he only showed her his claws. She couldn’t understand his animosity. Perhaps it was because she was skinny like him, and barely taller? Perhaps because she seemed like easy prey, with her frizzy hair and her small eyes? Or maybe he hated her because he thought his brother loved her? Once, she tried to caress his face, and he bit her hand. She almost passed out from the pain. David, who would normally respond to lighter offenses with a tirade of blows, burst out laughing, which added to her chagrin and humiliation.
Nevertheless, there was something seductive about Lilly. She had the same elusive magic sometimes found in puppies, or even in sick babies. Not a real, clear charm, bright and captivating, but momentary sparks of grace, and sometimes refined expressions of yet-unripe femininity, a sort of constant promise that a day will come when even Lilly Elhadeff will blossom into a woman.
28. DON’T WORRY, YA BABA
The telegram threw David off-kilter only briefly. In the commotion of the eve of a race everything dims, even such life-altering news, especially a piece of news so bothersome that it is desirable to shove it aside. David quickly returned to his training schedule, free of unnecessary thoughts. His body was bent and coiled, the mane of his mare caressing his face, her hooves spraying gravel all over the tracks, sparks disappearing into the dust.
Joseph stood at the starting point, his pocket watch in hand. He wore only a striped shirt and a jacket. The heat was heavy and the sweat collected under his fez until it could no longer hold back, then it dripped down his face, pooling in the cracks of wrinkles. The handkerchief in his hand was soaked and smelled of something spicy and manly, somewhat intoxicating. That same sweet and familiar blurring of the senses overtook him, and within the thick ether swarming around him, he saw Leila striding in her noble loneliness, without bridle or reins, as a black fog, twisting among the vapors of dream.
“Well then, how long?”
“Well then, how long?” David repeated.
“How much time, Papa?”
David was standing next to him, breathing heavily and sweating, a thin film of dust powdering his face. “Papa!” David shook his father’s shoulder gently.
“Ya ibni,” Joseph whispered, holding his son tightly, almost desperately.
“You worried me, ya baba,” David said and grabbed Esperance’s reins. On his way he took a sugar cube from the table and dropped it into the mare’s mouth. She looked at him with kind and modest eyes.
David shook his head and rode away.
“David, ya ibni,” his father suddenly called.
“Yes, ya baba,” David said, turning his profile toward his father.
Joseph searched his son’s face for something to lean on or hold on to, but the face was like smooth marble. There was no hint of understanding in his fair eyes. Joseph’s own eyes were suddenly beholding a vision. David was going to lose the race, and not only this race. His eyes, his posture, his somewhat feminine walk, his young beauty, his simplistic fluttering, all these were taken as signs. Tal’ooni, who knew the desert like the back of his hand, he would be king of the tracks. Tal’ooni would win. Because Allah would stand at his side. Allah would not support the son of a convert. Allah would give His support to the desert rider, the image of Muhammad, His prophet.
Could a mortal change what has been written since the beginning of time? All of our actions were written the moment that Allah created the world in his wisdom, and they are written, so many scrolls, in the library of the heavens, and each day one scroll is opened, and each moment a line is read. And one of those lines says that Ahmed Al-Tal’ooni will defeat David Hamdi-Ali.
Joseph knew he had to submit to fate’s decree. He could do nothing to alter that which was written in indelible ink. Now that he had gained this recognition, he was slightly relieved, but his hands were weak. He turned to leave the tracks.