I have no recollection of what I did after that encounter. When I reached home it was past midnight. I went into my room and sank on the bed. She was in her room but not asleep. Will it shock you, Stone Woman, if I say that my love for her was so strong that even at this stage I was prepared to forgive her? It was, after all, my seed that had failed to sprout. I told myself that if she was so desperate for children, what else could she have done? She came into my room wearing my old grey silk dressing gown and asked why I had been out so late. I looked at her face and found myself overcome with rage. I wanted to hit her, but I controlled my anger.
“Mariam, I knew we had employed the best furniture-makers in town to supply us with tables and chairs and beds. I had no idea that you had asked their carpenter, Marco, to furnish you with children as well.”
She was shaken, Stone Woman. Her face became pale and she began to tremble. I spoke to her again. “If only you could see your lying, hypocritical face in the mirror! Are you trembling with fear and guilt? Good! Before I finish with you…”
I stopped because she had begun to weep. The sight of her tears had always touched me deeply. I walked to her and began to stroke her face. She reacted to my touch as if I were a leper. Her face was transformed completely. I no longer recognised her as the woman I loved. A strange, scornful smile appeared on her face, a smile of triumph. She was actually pleased at the sight of my misery, glad that I had been humiliated and betrayed. She looked at me with real loathing and said, “My true feelings for you have long been those of disgust and contempt. It is not just that your seed was infertile, but your love had become a punishment for me. I needed to free myself from you and the restraints of this life.”
I did not sleep that night. Her pitiless cruelty left me with no choice. I thought of the two beautiful children I adored. It was difficult to think of them as not belonging to me. I was tempted to see their little trusting faces for the last time, but I resisted the urge. I packed a little valise and walked out of the house at the first sign of dawn.
The streets were empty. The only noise was that of the seagulls scavenging for food. The beautiful sky was red at the edges and slowly turning pink. I couldn’t help contrasting the beauty of nature with the ugliness of what Mariam had done to my life. I walked to Hamid Bey’s house. Maria the crone opened the door, clutching her rosary. For the first time she looked at me with sympathy and patted my back as I entered the hall. Perhaps the pain etched on my face attracted her sympathy. Perhaps she knew. Hamid Bey came down the stairs, took one look at me and realised what had happened. He embraced me warmly and asked Maria to bring us some coffee.
I sat down on a large sofa, whose frame had probably been constructed by Marco, and told Hamid Bey the whole story, just as I am telling you, Stone Woman. I hid nothing. I did not spare his feelings. I did not care that she was his daughter. I was bitter and angry. He heard me in complete silence and then said, “She has turned out just like her mother. Leave Alexandria today, my son, and think of Mariam as dead. It will take a few years, but you will recover. I will make sure all your affairs are in order. I do not know what will become of Mariam, but she remains my child and I will provide for her. Perhaps she will move back here with her children. Let that not concern you any longer. Consider yourself free of any responsibilities and re-make your life somewhere else, Salman Pasha.” And with these words he embraced me once again. There was sadness in his eyes as we parted and he muttered a few words almost as if to himself: “She who was the wife of a prince has become the keep of a carpenter.”
I left Alexandria the next day on a boat bound for the East. I spent a year in Tokyo, which was so different from our world that it distracted me from the pain and grief I had left behind in Alexandria. The mind has a capacity to relegate unwanted baggage to its most secret recesses. I was never fully cured. Memories of those early days of happiness sometimes came flooding back and I fought hard to drive them away by recalling the ugliness of the last week or the cruel words that she had deployed to kill our love.
My Uncle Kemal was also in that part of the world, expanding his fleet of merchant ships, opening new offices in Tokyo and Shanghai and seeking solace in the arms of his numerous mistresses. I had met one of them in Tokyo. He had decided that there should be no secrets between us and introduced me to her. She was beautiful and, on the surface, submissive in her exquisitely embroidered red silk kimono.
She had prepared a meal for us and I was, frankly, horrified when she sat cross-legged with us on the floor, but did not touch her food till she had fed my Uncle Kemal. She did so with some delicacy. The fish never escaped from the little sticks as she dipped it in a tasty sauce and popped it into my uncle’s mouth. I could see why he spent so much time in the East. He had never been happy with his wife. How could such a good-looking man with a passion for finery and a strong sensuality have married a woman with no redeeming qualities? He could never understand why I was puzzled by his choice and would say, with a touch of irritation, “Do you think I would have agreed to the marriage if her dowry had not been able to finance my shipping company? I always loved boats and the sea. So I thought if I had to marry this midget and fertilise her with my sperm, I must make sure the means of escape was always nearby. There are times, Salman, when one is forced to sacrifice long-term happiness in favour of short-term gain. What is really annoying is that all my daughters have inherited their mother’s shape, size and stupidity. It will require three very generous dowries to have them removed from the house. I mean, can you imagine anyone, and I really mean anyone, falling in love with any of them? The pity is that I love Istanbul more than your other uncle and your father. Iskander loves Paris. Memed is besotted with Berlin. I have remained faithful to my Istanbul, but the beauty of the city has become associated in my mind with the never-ending ugliness that greets me at home. So I escape and, as you can see, I am happy here. I prefer Tokyo to Shanghai. Here I can submerge myself in the landscape. Shanghai is too noisy and too filthy. I never feel safe in its streets.”
I was keen to visit China, Stone Woman, and for many reasons, but Uncle Kemal suggested I return to Istanbul. “They worry about you,” he said. “They imagine you are still in Egypt. I think you need them a little now. Solitude cannot help you any more. You can always come back to me later. You have always been like a son to me, but now we have also become friends and this is a rare pleasure at this stage of one’s life.”
I followed his advice and returned to Istanbul. I was there when my father suffered a stroke and I rushed here with Halil. Remember Halil when he was little? Full of mischief. Who would have thought he would be a general?
When I first came here I was gripped by a severe depression and unable to focus on anything, but the clouds have lifted at last, Stone Woman. My father and I have never been as close as we are now. I love Nilofer’s children and soon I will tell her my story so that she knows why I do not speak of “my children”. And as for General Halil Pasha, what can I say? He, of all people, has reawakened my youthful interest in politics and history. We are on the verge of big changes, Stone Woman. Everything could be different. The inertia that has always marked our lives could be swept away by a tidal wave of reform. It is in times like these that one realises that there are other joys in this world apart from those of love and union with the beloved.
All will change, Stone Woman, and it will change soon, but I hope you will always remain to provide comfort for those who find it difficult to tolerate pain in silence.’