“But you told me you went there, and you weren’t an adolescent.”
“That was just a passing mood but now it’s over. Love comes to me, and when it comes I let it come.”
“You mean you’re this old and you don’t take restoratives?”
“Never. Absolutely not.”
Nasri claimed that Sawsan’s visit to the apartment had been a mistake, but he was lying. He’d known the first time that he slept with her that she was the one, this was the woman he wanted. He’d had sex with lots of prostitutes before and had felt empty after the encounter, like a vessel whose water had been poured out onto the ground, as though the woman he was sleeping with wanted him to get it over with quickly and go. This Sawsan, though, made him feel a desire not demeaned at the moment of its ending. He took to visiting her twice a week and spending a lot of time talking with her. She told him her story and he told her his and in the end he couldn’t leave her. On a stormy Saturday night, with the rain pelting down, he entered her room in the souk and began to talk. He ordered a bottle of wine and said that that night he wanted her skarsa, for the whole night, and that he was ready to pay. That was the night of his insane decision. He slept wrapped around her fragile white body and whispered that he wanted to marry her. She laughed, patted him on the back, and told him to go to sleep. He sat up in the bed, lit a cigarette, said he wasn’t joking, and repeated his declaration. She said she didn’t believe him and it was impossible. He told her he’d made his mind up and was inviting her to come to his home on Monday to meet his sons. Things didn’t work out well though. Sawsan made the mistake of coming as she was, with her fingernails painted violet, in her short dress that showed off her thighs, and with mascara smudges around her eyes.
Nasri told her he couldn’t, for the boys’ sake. She said she’d expected as much. He said he loved her and would never stop loving her.
It all fell apart though. Sawsan changed and turned back into a prostitute like the rest and the fire was extinguished. With the extinction of Sawsan’s eyes and her body Nasri realized his love wouldn’t be able to rescue him from the abyss of his sense of worthlessness and impotence. When Sawsan dropped the reins of desire, love fell by the wayside and the man could no longer save the situation. What confused him was that Sawsan’s phantom never stopped making him burn with desire and longing, but when he went to her and got close to the indifferent body lying on the bed he was extinguished and felt impotent. At first Sawsan would try but her mechanical efforts were no use. Then she’d burst into laughter and say, “You’d better change, sweetie. It looks like it’s over. The spark’s gone. It’s a good thing we didn’t get married because it would have been a mess.”
He tried to tell her he didn’t know what was going on but he wanted her. When he started to lose confidence in himself he decided he’d change partners, and it was okay, but his thirst for women’s bodies only got worse, and it was this that would lead him to come up with the Green Potion.
Nasri didn’t tell his children what had happened with Sawsan. The prostitute’s visit became taboo, never to be talked about, as though it had never happened. Despite this Nasim had a different opinion and he used Sawsan, who never left his memory, to justify his flight from home and failure at school.
“Did you sleep with Sawsan?” Karim asked him.
“I told you, she was the one who got me work at the shawarma and bean restaurant, with Boss Nakhleh Kafouri.”
“So you slept with her.”
“But it wasn’t important. She told me I reminded her of Nasri and she believed my story and got me work and it was fine.”
Nasim’s flight, which lasted a week, changed Karim’s life because he still felt so guilty three years later that he felt compelled to impersonate his brother in the government exams, and if he hadn’t, Nasim would never have got into the Faculty of Pharmacy at Beirut’s Jesuit university.
Sawsan turned the family’s life upside down and transformed Nasri into a wolf — which is how Karim described his father when he told Bernadette about the man’s loneliness, wolfishness, and alienation.
His Greek experience changed Karim greatly. After that he decided to keep clear of his brother’s way of life because he’d discovered that Nasim wasn’t his mirror, and he began to construct his own emotional life. When his Greek instructress got sick he stopped going to the souk and started secret affairs with girls, which reached their peak with his love for Hend. Even that, which he’d hoped would remain a secret, almost turned into scandal. One day Nasim came to him and said he fancied Salma’s only daughter.
When Nasim mentioned Hend to his brother, Karim turned pale and said nothing. “It looks like there’s something going on I don’t know about,” said Nasim, and he turned to his brother, patted him on his shoulder, and told him it didn’t matter. “Don’t get upset. There are more girls than you can shake a stick at. It’s good I didn’t get any more involved with her than that.”
Karim didn’t ask his brother how deeply he had been involved with her, just as he didn’t ask Hend, and he forgot about the whole thing.
Fate, however, had something else in mind.
It was only in Beirut that Karim heard the story of how his father, the pharmacist Nasri Shammas, had died, and it was Hend who told him.
Nasim and Hend had come to see him on New Year’s morning, bringing a breakfast of manaqish and kenafeh-with-cheese. They’d begun eating when the phone rang. Nasim picked up the receiver, his face turned pale, and he said he had to leave.
Hend stood up to go with her husband, but Nasim asked her to stay. Karim and Hend finished their breakfast in silence, he gazing into space, she looking at the ground. The sound of chewing rang in his ears and he felt he’d lost the power of speech.
He was afraid Hend would revisit the story of their former love, as she had when she’d visited him during the first days of his stay in Beirut. Ghazala had been mopping the living room floor and Karim was wearing his pajamas, sitting at his desk sipping coffee and feeling an irresistible desire for the woman. He dressed quickly and received his brother’s wife in the living room, from which the large carpet that covered the now damp tiles had been removed, leaving everything gleaming with water.
They went to Paul’s restaurant nearby and Hend began to talk. He wanted the meeting to end quickly, before Ghazala could leave. Listening to Hend, he felt he was seeing his life through the veil of tears that covered the face of this woman who didn’t drink a single drop of the espresso that had been placed in front of her. But his desire for Ghazala had taken such control of him that he was incapable of concentrating, and this gave her an impression he hadn’t intended to convey.
When he got up to pay the bill and leave, Hend put out her hand and took hold of his. He left his hand in the soft outstretched hand and no longer knew in what direction desire was taking him.
Hend didn’t speak on that occasion of the love that had fallen into oblivion, she spoke of her disappointment. She asked him if he knew his brother well because she’d discovered after they got married that she did not. She said she’d been surprised to find that after a month of marriage the man had changed utterly and she’d felt she’d fallen into a trap.
“At first he was like you. I swear he was like you down to the last detail. He’d soften his voice and hang his head when he spoke of love as though he was you. I felt as though I’d known him for ages. I don’t know how I came to accept his invitation to a cup of coffee. He said there was something important he wanted to talk to me about and I felt a kind of drowsiness come over me. From the first moment I felt as though the love story I’d lived with you might go on. I felt as though God was maybe going to pull me up from the bottom of the well into which you’d shoved me, and I couldn’t refuse. He made me an offer I couldn’t refuse, and I accepted.”