"A month?" said Dr. Booshy. "Impossible!"
"All right, goodbye then," snapped Mrs. Afify.
He deliberately let a moment or two pass and then spoke: "There is a way, if you like."
She realized he was bargaining and it made her angry. However, she decided to overlook this, as she needed him.
"What way is that?"
"I could make you a gold plate. It could be put in immediately after the extractions."
Panic gripped her as she contemplated the cost of a gold plate. She almost rejected the doctor's suggestion, but she couldn't put off the impending wedding. How could she possibly go to her bridegroom with her mouth in its present decayed state? How would she ever have the courage to smile at him? Moreover, everyone in the alley knew that Dr. Booshy's fees were reasonable and that he somehow got plates that he sold at ridiculously low prices. No one ever asked where he got them; people cared only that they were cheap.
"How much would a set cost?"
Dr. Booshy was not the slightest taken in by her apparent indifference. He replied, "Ten pounds."
She had no idea of the actual cost of gold plates, but she put on a shocked expression of incredulity. "Ten pounds!"
Dr. Booshy flew into a rage. "Do you realize it would cost fifty pounds if you went to those dentists who treat their skills as a trade. People like me are just unlucky fellows, that's all."
They set about bargaining, he doing his best to keep it up and she to bring it down. Eventually they agreed on a price of eight pounds, and Dr. Booshy left the flat cursing the old woman for trying to pretend she was young.
These days Mrs. Saniya Afify was seeing the world in a new light, just as the world was seeing a new Mrs. Afify. Her happy hopes were near fulfillment and her loneliness was now merely a temporary guest that would soon depart. Nevertheless, her happiness depended upon expense and a very heavy one at that. She realized just how heavy when she browsed in the furniture shops in Azhar Street and in the clothing shops along Mousky. On and on she went, spending the money she had hoarded for so long. Moreover, she kept no account of what she spent. All this time Umm Hamida scarcely left her side and she relied greatly on the matchmaker's considerable adroitness. She was indeed a priceless treasure and was certainly proving very expensive. Umm Hamida herself, mindful that her job would soon be finished, took great care not to let Mrs. Afify out of her grip.
The widow's furniture and clothing were not the only expenses; her house needed renovation and even the bride herself required a great deal of care, preparation, and repair. One day Mrs. Afify said to Umm Hamida, laughing hysterically in her state of apprehension, "Oh, Umm Hamida, can't you see how my worries are turning my hair gray?"
Umm Hamida, aware that whatever had whitened her hair it was certainly not worry, replied, "Oh, those worries will easily disappear with dye. You know, there's hardly a single woman who doesn't dye her hair these days."
The widow now laughed and sighed. "Heaven bless you, you wonderful woman. Whatever would I have done with my life if it weren't for you." Then she waited a little, stroked her breast and went on: "My goodness, will that young bridegroom you've found me be pleased with this dry body of mine? I have neither breasts nor a behind to attract men with."
"Don't belittle yourself; don't you know that being slender is fashionable and a very nice fashion too! Anyway, if you like, I'll give you some marvelous dishes to fatten you up in no time…" She shook her pockmarked head proudly and continued: "Have no fears as long as Umm Hamida is with you. Umm Hamida is the magic key to unlock all secret doors for you. Tomorrow you'll see how good I am in the baths; we'll go there together."
So the days of preparation passed, full of endless activities, pleasures, and hopes, dyeing of hair and collecting perfumes, extracting teeth and making a gold plate; and all of this was costing money. The widow, struggling to overcome her stinginess, tossed her savings in the path of that long-awaited day. She even gave money to the mosque of Hussain and dispersed it liberally to the poor surrounding it. In addition, she donated forty candles to St. Shaarany.
Umm Hamida was overcome with amazement at the widow's sudden generosity. She clasped her hands together and said to herself, "Are men worth all this trouble? Long may your wisdom reign, O Lord, for it is You who have decreed that women worship men…"
22
Uncle Kamil woke from his usual permanent daydream to the sound of a bell ringing. He opened his eyes and listened. Then he craned his neck until his head appeared outside the shop. He saw a familiar carriage standing at the entrance of the alley and rose slowly, saying to himself in pleased surprise, "My goodness, has Mr. Salim Alwan really come back?" The driver now hurried from his seat to the carriage door to help his master climb down. Salim Alwan leaned heavily on his arm and carefully rose from his seat. First the tassel of his fez appeared, followed by his bent body, and finally he stood on the ground straightening his clothes. His illness had struck him in the middle of the winter and it had taken until early spring to cure him. The biting-cold winter was now replaced by a gentle wave of warmth which seemed to make the whole world dance with joy. But then what cure had he really had? Mr. Alwan had come back a different man. His paunch which used to stretch his clothes had quite disappeared, and his florid, well-filled face was now sunken. His cheekbones were quite visible, his cheeks hollow, his skin pallid. His eyes had lost their sparkle, and he now seemed sullen and faded beneath his scowling eyebrows.
Because of his weak eyes Uncle Kamil did not notice how much Alwan had changed. However, when he came closer to him and saw how old and worn the man looked, Kamil was really shocked. He bent low over Alwan's had in greeting to hide his emotion, and shouted in his shrill voice, "Praise be to God for your safe return, Mr. Alwan. This is a happy day indeed. By God and Hussain, without you the alley isn't worth an onion skin!"
Withdrawing his hand, Mr. Alwan replied, "That's very kind of you, Uncle Kamil."
He went off, walking slowly and leaning heavily on his stick, his driver following behind with Kamil waddling in the rear like an elephant. It was obvious that the ringing of the bell had announced Alwan's arrival, for soon the entrance to the business premises was filled with workers. Kirsha and Dr. Booshy came out of the cafe and everyone surrounded Alwan, muttering prayers and praises to God for his safe return. The driver of the carriage raised his voice, shouting, "Make way please for Mr. Alwan. Let him sit down first and then you can greet him."
The crowd cleared a path for him and he entered frowning, his heart boiling over with resentment. He would have been perfectly happy never to see their faces again. He had scarcely settled into his seat at the desk when his employees started streaming in. He had no choice but to give them his hand to kiss, one after the other, repelled by each touch of their lips, and saying to himself all the time, "What wicked liars you are! You're the real cause of this whole calamity!"
The employees left and Kirsha now came in to shake his hand, saying, "Welcome indeed to the master of the quarter. A thousand thanks to God for your safe return."
Alwan thanked him.
Dr. Booshy kissed Alwan's hand and recited in oratorical tones, "Today our joy is fulfilled and today our hearts are put at rest. Today our prayers are granted and…"
Hiding his disgust, Alwan thanked him. The fact was that he really despised the dentist's little round face.
When he was at last left in peace, he heaved a sigh from his weak lungs and said in a scarcely audible voice, "Dogs… dogs, the lot of them. They have bitten me with their envy-filled eyes!" He did his best to shake off the rage and scorn welling up in him. He was not left alone long, for Kamil Effendi Ibrahim, his manager, appeared, and at once Alwan forgot everything except checking the company's books. Tersely, he commanded, "The books."