~ ~ ~
The dark face with its two red eyes comes slowly closer from behind the metal grating that lines the window. I recognize Abbas. The door opens and an oil lamp with long rectangular panes of fine glass appears. The lamp comes closer. Its flame grows. The white round face of Mama Tahiya comes into view behind it. Her hair is up. Her lips are covered with lipstick. The constable is behind her. He tries to hold her, but she resists. She pounds her fists against his chest with all her might trying to get out of his grasp. She screams: “That’s your son. . Your son, you liar, you cheat!” I’m surprised that she doesn’t recognize me. I open my mouth to start to tell her who I am, but my mother’s face suddenly appears in place of hers. Blood flows out of the cut on her lower lip. Her face shrinks and then twists up. It disappears. Two big hairy arms appear in its place. They come at me. I want to scream, but the sound can’t make it out of my mouth.
I wake up suddenly and I shudder. The light is shining. I call for father. I sit up. Sweat drips off me. I push away the covers and slide over to the edge of the bed. Tears sprout up in my eyes. I jump down and push on the door of the room until it opens. The light is on in the hallway. I call out again: “Papa?” “Mama Tahiya?” No one answers. The constable’s room is shut. I take a side glance over towards the toilet. I open the door to the apartment. My eyes move to the darkened landing. I shoot a glance at the corner, where the storage room is. I leave the door open and run down the steps to the entrance. I keep running out into the alley all the way to the main street. I turn right and keep running all the way to the shop of sheikh of the quarter.
Even without my glasses, I know the men seated on the chairs on the sidewalk in front. They are Sheikh Abdel ’Alim, Refaat Effendi, and the priest. I see father sitting to the side. He’s listening carefully to the turbaned sheikh in his glasses. I rush over to him. He turns to me frowning. I stand between his knees. He says to me: “What are you doing here?” A fit of coughing takes hold of me. He feels my throat and chest. “See how sweaty you are?” He stands up and says to the sheikh: “Excuse us, my good sheikh.”
He grabs my hand violently and pulls me through the lane all the way to the house. He closes the door of the apartment behind us and pushes me into our room. “Get up. Lie down on the bed.” He bends over me and tucks the covers around me. “Can’t you stay by yourself for even a little while? Do you think an afreet will eat you or something? Do I have to pull you along by the hand every place I go?”
He moves away from me and sits down on the bed. I cough. He goes out to the balcony, moving out of my sight. Then he comes back in and walks towards the door of the apartment. “I’m fed up. That’s it. What did I do to deserve this torture? I should’ve done like Aly Safa. He couldn’t give a damn about his daughters.” The chair turns into something like a cart that sells cucumbers and red dates. Its wooden brake keeps me from losing control and sliding across the tile floor, so I creep all around the apartment as I look for mother. There’s a seat with an opening and putty underneath me. I play around aimlessly with the red, blue and yellow rings fastened on to the thick plastic cable on one side of the cart.
I try to fight off the urge to cough. I follow him as he paces back and forth next to the dresser. He turns his face away from me and I raise my head up a little bit off the pillow. I see him searching around the desk, then sitting down, resting his arms on its surface. His fez slants a little bit backwards. His lips are trembling in soundless murmurs. He pulls off his suit coat, takes out his half-smoked cigarette from his waistcoat, feels around for his matches until he finds them, then lights his half a cigarette. He puffs on it and lets it dangle from the side of his mouth as he says: “I can’t leave for even five minutes. Was I just screwing around or something? It’s all for your sake in the first place. I only have a month to catch up with the judge. Your grandma wants to take you from me. Do you want to go live at her house? And sleep on the ground?” The stairs are long. The door to the roof is half opened. The room is narrow. The bed is in one corner and the cooking things are in the other. There’s a cold wind on the way to the toilet. My grandma’s yellow face.
He picks up a book and takes his glasses out of the breast pocket of his coat. He puts them on and then looks for one special page that he wants to find. He can’t find it, so he just reads randomly for a while. He puts the book down. Stands up. Heads towards the door. Is he going back out again? He turns and comes back. I am following him from the corner of my eye. He sighs: “It was a dark day when I saw your face and the face of your mother.” I cough. “If only the Lord would take you and give me some respite.” I cough again. I shudder. My teeth start to chatter. I blink my eyes. The angels are surrounding me. Mother carries me. Light comes in from the hallway. It swirls around me in circles.
I open my eyes. The light is spinning in circles. His head is bent over me. It is covered with his woolen cap. That means he won’t go out again. He feels around my temples. He lifts my head up and puts a spoon of Belmonks in my mouth. He unfolds a wet handkerchief. Spreads it over my forehead. He disappears. He comes back with a glass of water, and squeezes two lemons into it. He brings out the aspirin bottle. He empties two pills into his hand. Dissolves them into the water. He raises my head. Forces me to drink. After the first sip, I push the cup away with my hand. I can’t breathe, so I open my mouth to breathe through it. My chest heaves and I gasp for air. He pulls me to his chest. Raises a handkerchief to my nose. He tells me to blow. My nose is clogged. He raises a small mirror in front of my face. I see my two nostrils stained with bright red spots of mercurochrome.
He leaves the bed. I follow him with my eyes. He opens the dresser and starts to root around in it. He comes back with a thin glass tube. He gets up on to the bed. Leans over me. Puts the end of the tube in one of my nostrils. He drains the stuff clogging one nostril. He dumps it on a plate. Then he does the other nostril. He drains it and dumps it. I can breathe again. He puts his hand on my head and recites the verse of the throne from the Quran. The coughing won’t stop. I’m parched, and he gives me a drink of a coloring of iodine mixed with water. He takes me to a well that has a gas smell coming up from it. He sits me down at its edge. He tells me to lean my head over and breathe in. The well is deep. His strong arms surround me and hold me back from falling.
~ ~ ~
I open the door carefully and look behind me. Father is deep into his nap. I go out to the living room. I walk softly to the door of the constable’s room. It is shut. I put my eye to the keyhole. The end of the bed. Four bare feet over it. The feet are all tangled and they’re not moving. I go over to the skylight and have a look at the window of Um Zakiya. It is open. The side of her bare arm is showing. I go around the table. I notice a mouse running towards the bathroom and the kitchen. I go back to Mama Tahiya’s room. I hear moving inside, so I hurry back to our room.
Father is sleeping on his left side with his back to me. He’s snoring. I sit at the desk and open up my science book.
I hear movement in the living room and hurry back to the door to look through the keyhole. The constable has a T-shirt and pyjama bottoms on and is standing in front of the wash basin. He washes up, then goes back to his room. I wait. Mama Tahiya is in her white robe. I wait until she finishes washing and goes back. I open the door and go out to the living room. She waves at me to follow her to the room.