“We’ve got to avoid that,” Hassanein entreated.
“You don’t seem to understand the gravity of the situation,” the doctor replied as he prepared himself for the operation. “However, for the time being, let’s postpone any discussion.”
During the surgical operation Hassanein was neither calm nor reassured. The doctor’s last words had uprooted all his tender emotions. This mission of mercy when he went to the hospital to get the doctor aroused in him deep feelings of compassion for his brother, stirring up memories of the days when Hassan had been their sole haven from misery and their only resort in time of need. But fear and anxiety soon hardened his heart toward Hassan, driving out all compassion. Now, in the image of the wounded man he saw instead an evil portent that threatened both his career and his reputation. Here Hassan lay, completely unconscious, unaware of the delicate surgical tools that cut into his flesh. All his life he had been insensitive to pain; a deep cut that would have shattered the nerves of others, bothered him far less. Hassanein remembered his own tears and entreaties, begging Hassan to change his way of life. And Hassan’s only response had been bitter sarcasm. If only he had died in a foreign land!
Fixing his eyes on the face as it began to disappear under the bandages, Hassanein shuddered in gloom and despair. At last he heard the doctor address him: “I’ve done all that I can possibly do now. Come out with me.”
He waited for the doctor to wash his hands and put on his jacket before showing him to the sitting room. In deep thought the men remained standing.
“I don’t think his case is very serious,” he said with unexpected calm. “But he’ll need treatment for a long time. What a brutal attack! Why don’t you inform the police?”
Though the doctor’s words helped to restore some of his power to reason, Hassanein remained stricken with fear. “To avoid a scandal. After all, we’re members of the same family.”
Disapprovingly, the doctor shook his head. “Tomorrow morning I’ll come to see him,” he said firmly. “If he’s O.K., I’ll forget about it. But if he isn’t, I’ll be compelled to inform the police.”
“I hope this won’t happen,” Hassanein replied as if, overcome with worry, he was talking to himself. Then addressing the doctor, he added, “Thank you for your help and all the trouble you’ve taken.”
Hassanein accompanied the doctor to the door and gratefully shook his hand. But before departing, the doctor repeated emphatically, “I’ll be back in the morning.”
Hassanein watched him get into his car and zoom off with a roar. He sighed as if to clear away an immovable weight from his chest, and then, with heavy, melancholy steps, he returned to the room. At once his worried mother rushed up to him.
“What did the doctor say?” she asked him anxiously.
He loathed her worry and anxiety, but he answered her calmly. “He’s optimistic about the case and will be back in the morning. How is Hassan now?”
“He hasn’t recovered consciousness yet,” Nefisa replied.
Flinging himself into the only chair in the room, he closed his eyes. I’m the one who’s really injured, he thought. As for him, he’s sound asleep in a happy state of unconsciousness, which I wish would overtake me. “I don’t think the case is very serious.” That’s what the stupid doctor says. No, it’s very serious; recovery would be more serious than death. If his condition becomes worse, the police will be informed. And if it improves, his existence will continue to weigh heavily upon me until his enemies inform the police. So scandal is inevitable. Is there no escape? I loathe this wounded man, I loathe myself and even life itself. Isn’t there a better life, aren’t there better creatures?
As he thought, his features contracted with agony and resentment. Deeply moved, his mother turned to him.
“Get over it,” she said gently. “Your brother is all right. May God preserve him and us!”
Astonished, he looked at her curiously.
EIGHTY-EIGHT
The next morning the doctor left the house, declaring himself reassured about his patient. Although now he was safe from impending danger, worries continued to torture Hassanein’s mind day and night. Yet for a brief period, the family enjoyed relative peace. Gradually the wounded man recovered his consciousness and vitality and, with his restoration to life, became preoccupied with certain thoughts of the past which soon infected the rest of the family. At first he smiled sadly with unusual resignation. “I’ve given you a lot of trouble,” he said somewhat apologetically. “It seems that God has created me for trouble. May God forgive me!”
The pleasant and affectionate smiles of his family flashed about him, but he was not deceived. “Sure, you’re angry,” he said, turning his eyes to Hassanein. “Perhaps you’d like to remind me of your previous sermons.”
“I only want to see you safe,” Hassanein murmured.
At first a mysterious smile crossed the wounded face, but soon it grew grim, overpowered by his thoughts. The calmness disappeared from his voice. “They robbed me of my money. I’ll get even with them. I intend to escape, and I must escape.”
He felt his head with his hand, and closed his eyes. As if speaking to himself, he murmured, “What has God done to Sana’a? Will they leave her alone? She won’t surrender to any of my enemies. But she can’t escape with me. It’s too late now. Besides, we’ve lost our money.”
Hassanein listened in silence to his brother’s delirium. Looking furtively at his mother and sister, Hassanein saw them exchanging anxious glances.
“I must disappear,” Hassan continued, with the same agitation. “The man who brought me here is a faithful friend. But he’s not smart enough to keep a secret. He’ll get a lot of satisfaction out of telling his mistress all about his kindness. Then she’ll have to tell it to someone else, until it finally reaches those who wish me ill. Then without warning the police will come sweeping into this house.”
Hassanein sighed in despair. Turning to his mother, his eyes met hers briefly before she lowered them. Fired with indignation, he mentally placed the blame on her. Why did you bring us into this world? he thought. Why did you commit this heinous crime? Then he heard his brother shouting violently.
“I must disappear. I’ll leave this house as soon as I’m able to walk. Perhaps I’ll leave the country entirely.”
For the first time since this man of evil destiny had been carried into the house, a glimmer of hope struck Hassanein, as refreshing as a soft breeze. Could this possibly happen, before the catastrophe occurs? he thought. Could he really disappear into some unknown land without leaving a single trace behind? In that case, let him stay here and get well. Then my life will be secure.
As time passed, they became used to the melancholy atmosphere of the house. Almost recovered, Hassan began to think seriously of leaving the flat and escaping from the country. In continuous, silent meditation, he worked out plans to achieve his purpose. Nefisa no longer stayed at home; she resumed her regular daily visits. Returning to normal life, Hassanein spent his time in his office, his home, and his club. But he continued to worry about his brother’s presence and its threat to their reputation. He hesitated to discuss this delicate point with his mother. He said to her one day with concern, “It’s a divine miracle that the police haven’t yet discovered where he is, and the miracle can’t last forever!”