With a wink, Muhammad Iffat commented, "If the hussy knew who he was, she'd tell him his father's life story from A to Z."
Ahmad Abd al-Jawad snorted, "God forbid!"
Ibrahim al-Far asked, "Do you think a fellow who can discern that his original ancestor was an ape will have difficulty discovering that his father's a debauched fornicator?"
Muhammad Iffat laughed so loud that he started coughing. After a few moments of silence he remarked, "Kamal's appearance is truly deceptive … sedate, calm, prim a teacher in every sense of the word."
In a gratified tone of voice, Ali Abd al-Rahim said, "Sir, may our Lord preserve Kamal and grant him a long life. Anyone who resembles his father can't go wrong."
Muhammad Iffat commented, "What's important is whether he's a Don Juan like his father. I mean, ishe good at handling women and seducing them?"
Ali Abd al-Rahim replied, "I doubt it. I imagine he preserves his grave and dignified appearance until the door is closed behind him and the lucky girl. Then he removes his clothes with the same grave dignity and throws himself upon her with grim earnestness. Afterward he dresses and leaves with precisely the same solemnity, as though delivering an important lecture to his students."
"From the loins of Don Juan has sprung a dunce!"
Ahmad Abd al-Jawad asked himself almost resentfully, "Why does this seem strange to me?" He would try to forget about it. Seeing al-Far go to fetch the backgammon set, he proclaimed without any hesitation that it was time for them to play. Even so, his thoughts kept revolving around this news. He consoled himself with the reflection that he had raised Kamal conscientiously and had seen him get a University degree and become a respected teacher. Now the boy could do whatever he wanted. In view of his son's lanky build and enormoushead and nose, perhaps it was lucky that he had learned how to have a good time. If there were any justice in the world, Kamal would have married years ago, and Yasin never would have married at all. But who could claim to understand such mysteries?
Then al-Far asked him, "When did you last see Zubayda?"
After thinking it over, Ahmad answered, "Last January. About a year ago. The day she came to the store to ask me to find a buyer for her house."
Ibrahim al-Far remarked, "Jalila bought it. Then that crazy Zubayda fell in love with a cart driver. But he left her destitute. Now she's living in a room on the roof of the house belonging to the performer Sawsan. She's such a ghost of her former self, it's pitiful."
Ahmad Abd al-Jawad shook his head sorrowfully and murmured, "The sultana in a rooftop shack! Glory to the unchanging One!"
Ali Abd al-Rahim commented, "A sad end, but hardly unexpected."
A laugh of lament escaped from Muhammad Iffat, and he said, "God have mercy on people who place their trust in this world."
Then al-Far invited them to play, and Muhammad Iffat challenged him. They quickly turned their attention to backgammon, as Ahmad Abd al-Jawad said, "Let's see whose luck is like Jalila's and whose resembles Zubayda's."
121
Kamal, was sitting with Isma'il Latif at Ahmad Abduh's coffeehouse iti the same alcove Kamal and Fuad al-Hamzawi had used as students. Although the December weather was cold, it was warm inside this subterranean establishment. With the entrance closed, all openings to the surface of the earth were sealed, and the air inside was naturally warmer and more humid. But for his desire to be with Kamal, Isma'il Latif would not have patronized this place. Of the old group, he was the only one who still kept in touch, although exigencies of employment had forced him to move to Tanta, where he had obtained a position as an accountant, following his graduation from the School of Commerce. Whenever he returned to Cairo on holiday he telephoned Kamal at al-Silahdar School and arranged to meet at this historic spot.
Kamal gazed at this old friend, taking in his compact build and the sharp features of his tapering face. He was pleasantly surprised by what he heard about Isma'il's polite, dignified, and upright behavior. The notorious paradigm of reckless and boorish impudence had become an exemplary husband and father.
Kamal poured some green tea into his companion's glass and then served himself. Smiling, he said, "You don't seem to care for Ahmad Abduh's coffeehouse."
Craning his neck in his familiar way, Isma'il replied, "It really is unusual, but why not choose somewhere aboveground?"
"In any case it's an eminently suitable place for a respectable person like you."
Isma'il laughed and nodded his head as if to admit that — after a wild youth he now deserved recognition for his respectability.
To be polite, Kamal asked, "How are things in Tanta?"
"Great! During the day I work nonstop at the office and in the evening I'm at home with my wife and children."
"How are the offspring?"
"Praise God. Their relaxation always comes at the expense of our fatigue. But we praise Him no matter what."
Motivated by the curiosity any reference to family life inspired in him, Kamal asked, "Have you really found the kind of true happiness with them that advocates of family life forecast?"
"Yes. I have."
"In spite of the fatigue?"
"In spite of everything."
Kamal looked at his friend with even greater interest. This was a new person, quite distinct from the Isma'il Latif he had known from 1921 to 1927, that extraordinary era when he had lived life to the fullest, when not a minute had passed without some profound pleasure or intense pain. It had been a time of true friendship represented by Husayn Shaddad, of sincere love personified by A'ida, and of vehement enthusiasm derived from the torch of the glorious Egyptian revolution. It had also been a time of drastic experiments prompted by doubt, cynicism, desire. Isma'il Latif was a symbol of the former era and a significant clue to it. But how remote his friend was from all that today….
Isma'il Latif conceded almost grumpily, "Of course, there's always something for us to worry about like the new cadre system at work and the freeze on promotions and raises. You know I enjoyed an easy life under my father's wing. But I got nothing from his estate, and my mother consumes all of her pension. That's why I consented to work in Tanta to be able to make ends meet. Would a man like me agree to it otherwise?"
Kamal laughed and said, "Nothing used to be good enough for you."
Isma'il smiled with what appeared to be conceit and pride at his memorable life, which he had renounced voluntarily.
Kamal asked, "Aren't you tempted to recapture some of the past?"
"Certainly not. I've had enough of all that. I can tell you that I've never regretted my new life. I just need to use a little cleverness from time to time to get some money from my mother, and my wife has to play the same game with her father. I still like to live comfortably."
Kamal could not keep himself from observing merrily, "You showed us how and then abandoned us…."
Isma'il laughed out loud, and his earnest face assumed much of its mischievous look of the old days. He asked, "Are you sorry about that? No. You love this life with a curious devotion, even though you're a temperate person. In a few playful years I did more than you'll ever do during a whole lifetime". Then he added in a serious tone, "Get married and change your life."
Kamal said impishly, "This matter deserves serious thought."
Between 1924 and 1935 a new Isma'il Latif had come into existence. Curiosity seekers should search out this novelty. Still, he was the one old friend left. France had seduced Husayn Shad-dad away from his homeland. Similarly, Hasan Salim had established himself outside of Egypt. Unfortunately Kamal had no contact with either of them anymore. Isma'il Latif had never been a soul mate. But he was a living memory of an amazing past, and for that reason Kamal could glory in his friendship.