Mrs. Kirsha questioned Uncle Kamil and Sanker, the cafe waiter, until she learned of the boy who had begun to frequent the cafe being served most graciously by Kirsha himself. Secretly she kept an eye on the cafe visitors until she saw the boy and watched him sit at the cafe owner's right after receiving a warm welcome. It made her furious and she felt all the old wounds opening again. Mrs. Kirsha spent a tortured, sleepless night and was even worse when she awoke in the morning. She could not make up her mind on a definite course of action. In the past she had often had to battle over this matter, although without success, and so she did not hesitate to try again. She wavered slightly, however, not from fear of his anger, but because she did not want to cause a scandal for the gossips.
Hussain Kirsha was getting ready for work and she approached him, breathless with anger. With extreme emotion she exclaimed, "My boy, do you know that your father is preparing a new scandal for us?"
Hussain knew at once what she meant, for her words could only mean one well-known thing. He was filled with scorn and his small eyes flashed in anger. What sort of life was this, never a single day free from hardship and scandals? Perhaps this was the reason he threw himself into the arms of the British Army. His new life had only doubled his dissatisfaction with his home, rather than reconciling and calming him. He disliked his family, his house, and the entire alley. Now what his mother said was only fuel to the flames that already raged. He asked her, in a fury, "What do you want from me? What have I to do with all that? I interfered before and tried to reform him and we nearly came to blows about it. Do you want me to use physical force on my own father?"
His father's misconduct did not concern him in the least. All he objected to were the scandals and disgrace his father caused and the fiery quarrels and scenes at home. The "sin" itself did not bother him in the slightest. Indeed, when news of it first reached him, he merely shrugged his shoulders in indifference and said unconcernedly, "He is a man and men don't care about anything!" Then he had come with the others to feel irritation and indignation toward his father when he learned his family was the subject of gossip and cruel jokes. Originally, even, his relations with his father had been strained, as always happens when two people of similar characters clash head-on. They were both rude, ill-natured, and bad-tempered. When this trouble had first arisen, it had doubled their natural friction until they had become like enemies, sometimes fighting, sometimes declaring a truce, but their animosity toward each other never died out.
Mrs. Kirsha did not know what to say, but she had no intention of causing a new enmity to flare up between father and son. She permitted him to leave the flat, livid with anger, and spent a most unhappy morning herself. She was not one to submit to defeat, despite the great and frequent misery the years had brought her. Her mind was made up to reform the sinful man, even though in doing so she might expose herself to the gossips.
Mrs. Kirsha thought it best to convey her warning while her blood was still up. She waited until midnight when the cafe customers left and her husband was ready to lock up; then she called down to him from her window. The man raised his head, obviously annoyed, and shouted up inquiringly, "What do you want, woman?"
Her voice came down to him: "Come up, please, I have something important to tell you."
The cafe owner made a sign to his "boy" to wait for him where he was and slowly and heavily made his way up the stairs. He stood panting at the threshold of his flat and asked her harshly, "What do you want? Couldn't you have waited until morning?"
The woman noticed his feet had come to a firm stop at the threshold and that he did not wish to cross it. It was as though he was reluctant to violate the privacy of someone else's home. Anger seethed within her and she stared hard at him, her eyes red from sleeplessness and rage. However, she did not want to show her anger too soon and said, stifling her anger, "Do please come in!"
Kirsha wondered why she did not speak up if she really wanted to tell him something. At last he asked her roughly, "What do you want? Speak up now!"
What an impatient fellow he was! He spent the long nights outside their home without being bored and yet he could not bear conversation with her for a couple of minutes. Nevertheless, he was her husband in the sight of God, and of men, and the father of all her children. It was amazing that she could not, despite his bad treatment of her, hate him or despise him. He was her husband and her master, and she would spare no efforts to hold him and bring him back whenever the "sin" threatened to overtake him.
In fact, she was really proud of him, proud of his masculinity, of his position in the alley, and of the influence he had over his associates. If it were not for this one abominable shortcoming of his, she would not have a single complaint against him. Yet here he was answering the call of the devil and wishing that she would finish what she had to say so that he could go off at once to him. Her anger increased and she said sharply, "Come inside first… What are you doing standing there on the threshold like a stranger?"
Kirsha blew into the air with annoyance and disgust and crossed the threshold into the hall and asked in his husky voice, "What do you want?"
His wife, closing the door behind them, said, "Sit down for a little… What I have to say won't take long."
He looked at her suspiciously. What did the woman want to tell him? Was she going to try to stand in his way once again? He shouted at her, "Speak up, then! What are you wasting my time for?"
She asked sarcastically, "Are you in a hurry, then?"
"Don't you know that I am?"
"What is it that makes you so impatient?"
His suspicions increased and his heart filled with anger as he asked himself why he put up with this woman. His feelings toward her were disturbed and conflicting. Sometimes he disliked her and sometimes he loved her. Dislike, however, was always uppermost when the "sin" appealed to his senses and always increased when the woman attempted to come down on him. Deep inside he wished his wife were just "sensible" and would leave him to his own affairs.
The strange thing was that he always considered himself in the right and was astonished at her attempts to stand in his way without justification. Was it not his right to do as he wished? And was it not her duty to obey and be satisfied as long as her needs were met and she was adequately provided for? She had become one of the necessities of his life, like sleep, hashish, and his home, for good or bad, and he never really considered dispensing with her. If he had wanted to, there would have been nothing to prevent him, but the fact was that she filled a need and looked after him well. In any case, he wanted her to be his wife. In spite of this and in the midst of his anger, he could not help asking himself why he put up with this woman. He shouted at her, "Don't be stupid. Speak up or else let me go…"
"Can't you think of a better way to address me than that?"
Kirsha flew into a rage. "Now I know you really have nothing to say to me. You had better go off to sleep like sensible women do…"
"If only you would go off to sleep like sensible men do!"
Kirsha slapped his hands together and shouted, "How can I go to sleep at this hour?"
"Why did God create night, then?"