Let him rejoice in this pure love. Let him find happiness in embracing a body she embraced and in kissing a cheek she kissed. Let him dream until his mind and heart were transported. He knew why he loved Budur, Husayn, the mansion with its garden and servants. He loved them all for A'ida's sake. What he did not understand was his love for A'ida.
Looking back and forth from Hasan Salim to Isma'il Latif, A'ida asked, "How was Alexandria?"
Hasan replied, "Splendid!"
Then Isma'il asked, "What makes you always want to go to Ra's al-Barr?"
In a pleasant voice with a musical ring, she answered, "We've spent several summers in Alexandria, but the only resort we really enjoy is Ra's al-Barr. The one other place as calm, unpretentious, and congenial is your own home."
Laughing, Isma'il said, "Unfortunately we don't care for calm."
How happy this scene made Kamal… and this conversation and this voice. "Think about it," he advised himself. "Isn't this happiness? A butterfly, like the dawn breeze, saturated in delightful colors, sipping the nectar of the flowers … that's what I am". If only this moment could last forever.
Aida said, "We had an enjoyable trip. Hasn't Husayn told you about it?"
In a disapproving tone Husayn said, "No, they've been arguing about politics."
She turned toward Kamal to say, "Here's someone who wants to talk about nothing else."
"Her attention comes to you as a grace," Kamal reflected. "Her look's so pure it reveals her angelic spirit. I'm revived by it like a sun worshipper soaking up radiant light. If only this moment would last forever."
"I wasn't responsible for initiating the discussion today."
Smiling, she said, "But you seized the opportunity…."
He grinned in surrender. Then she turned her eyes on Budur and cried out, "Are you planning to fall asleep in his arms? That's enough greeting for you."
Budur was embarrassed and buried her head against his chest. He started stroking her back fondly.
But Aida threatened: "Then I'll leave you and go back alone."
Budur lifted her head and held out her hand to her sister, mumbling, "No". Kamal kissed her and set her on the ground. She ran to Aida and grasped her hand. Aida looked at each of them in turn, waved goodbye, and went back the way she had come. They resumed their seats and continued their conversation.
A'ida's visits to the gazebo in the garden were like this. They were brief, happy surprises, but Kamal appeared content. He felt that his patience during the long summer months had not been in vain. Why did not people commit suicide to attempt to hold on to happiness just as they killed themselves to escape from suffering?
"It's not necessary for you to travel around the world like Husayn if you wish to find pleasure for your senses, intellect, and spirit. It's possible for you to acquire all of those in a fleeting moment without stirring. How does a human being obtain the power to effect all this? What's happened to the political feud, the heated debate, the furious quarrel, and the class conflict? They've melted away and vanished at a look from your eyes, O beloved. What distinguishes dream from reality? I wonder which of them Im roaming through now."
"Soccer season starts soon."
"Last season belonged to the Ahli team. They were unrivaled."
"The Mukhtalat team was defeated, but it's got some outstanding players."
Kamal sprang to the defense of Mukhtalat much as he defended Sa'd Zaghlul to block the attacks of Hasan Salim. All four of them played soccer, but they differed in their skill and enthusiasm. Isma'il was by far the best and stood out among them like a professional playing with amateurs. Husayn Shaddad was the weakest player. Kamal and Hasan were in the middle. The exchange between Kamal and Hasan heated up. The former attributed Mukhtalat's defeat to bad luck, the latter thought it showed the superiority of Ahli's new players. The controversy continued, since neither of them would give in.
Kamal wondered why he always found himself on the other side from Hasan Salim, whether they were discussing the Wafd Party and the Liberals or the Mukhtalat team and Ahli. Among musicians Kamal preferred Hijazi, but Hasan liked Mukhtar. In cinema, the former enjoyed Charlie Chaplin, while the latter favored the dapper French comedian Max Linder.
Kamal left his friends shortly before sunset. As He walked along the path beside the house heading for the gate he heard a voice cry, "There he is."
Enchanted, he looked up and saw Ai'da at one of the first-floor windows. She was pointing him out as she held Budur, who sat on the window ledge. Kamal stopped below them, looking up with a smiling face at the child, who waved her small hand at him. He also glanced from time to time at the face in whose form and expressions his hopes for life and the afterlife were vested. His heart was colliding drunkenly with his ribs. Budur waved to him once more, and Ai'da asked her, "Are you going to him?"
The little girl nodded yes, and A'ida laughed at this wish that would not be realized. Encouraged by her laughter, Kamal examined her carefully, losing himself in the beautiful coloration of her eyes and in the exquisite meeting point of her eyebrows. He recalled the reverberation of her throaty laughter and the inflections of her warm voice until he was sighing with emotion and passion. Since the situation obliged him to speak, he asked his beloved, "Did she think of me at the beach?"
Mov; ng her head back a little, A'ida said, "Ask her yourself. What you two think of each other is none of my business". Then before lie could utter a word, she added, "Did you remember her?"
"Oh," he thought. "This is like Fahmy reviewing lessons with me on the roof while Maryam listened."
"She was never absent from my thoughts," he answered fervently.
A voice called to the girls from inside. A'ida straightened up and lifted Budur in her arms. As she was about to leave she made this final comment: "What an amazing love!" Then she disappeared from this window.
86
Amina and Kamal were the only remaining patrons of the coffee hour, and even he left the house before sunset. Then his mother stayed on there by herself or called Umm Hanafi to keep her company until it was time for bed. Yasin had left a void behind him. Although Amina tried not to mention him, Kamal felt isolated by his brother's departure, and the delightful enjoyment he had found in this gathering was spoiled. In the old days coffee had been an excuse for conversation. Now it was everything to the mother. She drank so much that, without her realizing it, preparation and consumption of the coffee became her sole entertainment. She would drink five, six, or even ten cups in succession.
Kamal anxiously kept track of her excesses and cautioned her about the consequences. She answered him with a smile as though to say, "What would I do if I weren't drinking coffee?" In a confident and assured tone she told him, "There's nothing harmful about coffee."
They sat facing each other, she on the sofa between the doors to the bedroom and the dining room, Kamal on one between the entries to his bedroom and his study. She was bent over the coffeepot, which was half buried in the brazier's coals. He was silent and staring vacantly into space. Suddenly she asked, "What are you thinking about, I wonder? You always look as though you're thinking about something important."
He sensed the criticism in her tone and replied, "The mind constantly finds things to occupy it."
She looked up questioningly at him with her small, honey-colored eyes. Then she said somewhat shyly, "It's been ages since we found time for a conversation."
"Really?" he wondered. That past was gone forever — the era of religious lessons and stories about prophets and demons, when he had been insanely devoted to her. That era had come to an end. What would they discuss today? Except for meaningless chatter there was absolutely nothing for them to say to each I other. He smiled, as though to apologize for both past and future silences.