Sadiq’s criticism of his brother irritated me, but I did not comment. Perhaps Abed actually does intend to get married and has come to tell us about it, or to ask his brother for help with his finances. I know Abed; and Sadiq, I know him too. He acts as if he is the master of the family, he intervenes and criticizes and objects and says, “I don’t agree, you are free to do what you like but then it’s your responsibility.” Then you find that he’s standing next to his brother, shoulder to shoulder, carrying the load with him, or he says, “Let me help you, Brother,” and lifts the heaviest part of the load.
On the way back from the airport, I asked Maryam to sit in the front seat next to Sadiq, and I sat in the back seat with Abed. Sadiq remarked, scoffing, “Does it make any sense, Abed, to come from Paris without a suitcase? I thought you were joking when you said that you didn’t bring a suitcase. Are you going to spend a week in Abu Dhabi in the same jeans and shirt?”
“I don’t carry suitcases when I travel.”
“You only carry a backpack!”
“It has everything needed: two shirts and socks and two changes of underwear.”
They went on bickering and laughing, and Maryam joined in their talk. I only held Abed’s hand and looked surreptitiously at his face. The lock of hair on the side, which covered the right side of his eyebrow, did not hide how his hair receded from his forehead, nor did I fail to notice a few white hairs among the black. Now I could only see his face from the side; in the airport when he came toward us, I saw him fully. He had become thin, and with his height he seemed extremely thin. Doesn’t the boy eat, living away from home? What does he eat? He wears jeans and a shirt and a pair of the running shoes that are popular among schoolboys. It’s hard to imagine that he has passed thirty, and that he’s a lawyer with experience in his field. And that backpack, hanging from his shoulder! I nearly laughed; Sadiq is right. Another stolen glance: his hair is a little longer than usual. Did he forget to go to the barber, or was it a response to the beginnings of baldness? Oh Lord, when will we marry him? I squeeze his hand without noticing.
He looked at me, “What does our dear mother say?”
“I’ve missed you, Abed!”
He kissed my hand. I felt the blood rush to my head, and I didn’t find anything to say.
The topic of Abed’s clothes occupied an unreasonable share of the visit. Or was it just a longing on the part of the boys for their old relationship, which was based on bickering? Sadiq said, “How will you meet my friends and acquaintances when you haven’t brought a suit? Why didn’t you bring a suit, a shirt, and a tie? You’re not my size.”
“I don’t own a suit.”
“Then we’ll go together tomorrow and buy you two suits and two shirts and …”
“God bless you, Sadiq, I can buy a suit but I don’t need a suit because I don’t wear one.”
Sadiq acted as he saw fit and came back the following day with bags and boxes: three suits, six shirts, three ties, and two pairs of shoes. He took them out of the bags and spread them out before us, saying, “This one is navy, for formal occasions. This one is light, you can wear it in the morning and for informal appointments. I liked the third one but I saw it after I had bought the other two, so I thought, it’s all to the good. These shirts and ties are for the navy one, and that tie is for the other. These shoes are for the navy one, and those …”
Randa added, “And signé, too!”
I leaned over to Maryam and whispered, “What does signé mean?”
“Literally it means that it has a signature, and what’s meant is that it was made by a company famous all over the world — that it’s a worldwide, expensive brand.”
Abed began to laugh, to laugh aloud. For a moment Sadiq was confused; maybe he had lost his way. It looked as if he didn’t understand, and I didn’t understand, either. I thought, Abed is laughing out of embarrassment; but when the laughter increased, I became anxious. It had all begun as joking and bickering, but it would turn into trouble — Abed would become angry and refuse the gift, and Sadiq would be hurt and embarrassed by his brother’s behavior.
“God forgive you, Brother. How much did you pay for these clothes?”
“Tell me first what’s making you laugh?” Sadiq was annoyed.
“It’s because you took it on yourself to spend a large sum on clothes I won’t wear. Now let’s act wisely — come with me to return the clothes to the shop where you bought them and get your money back.”
“What’s wrong with my giving my little brother some elegant clothes?” His voice had begun to rise and it had an edge.
“Even if I need what they cost?”
“Take the gift and tell me how much you need and I’ll give it to you.”
“I need a million dollars, and if you could give me more, there’s no objection.”
“Slow down, Abed, stop joking. This talk is raising my blood pressure.”
“Since when do you have high blood pressure? No one told me. Do you take a pill every day?”
“It’s not the time for that. How much do you need? Why didn’t you tell me that you’re going through a financial crisis? Why should I work like a mule here if I can’t provide what my family needs?”
“First, I’m sorry to hear about the blood pressure — I hope you get better. Let’s talk calmly, and let’s not mix the subjects. The gift is one subject; the money I need is another, I came from Paris especially to talk to you about it. The problem is that your gift is expensive and its price could be added to the sum I came to ask you for.”
“Have you decided to get married?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Are you in debt?”
“No.”
“Then what’s the matter?”
“It’s the project. Listen.”
Randa withdrew. She said, “It will be a long night; I’m going to sleep.” It seemed to me that Abed might need to talk to his brother alone, so I said, “Let’s go, Maryam.”
Maryam said, “I want to know what the project is. I might be able to help Abed to convince Sadiq; didn’t Sadiq say that I would be a good lawyer?”
Abed said, “Sit with us, Mother, I want to hear your opinion. You stay too, Maryam, you might be able to help me defend the project.”
Maryam winked at him and said, “If I am convinced!” She laughed, but Sadiq did not laugh.
We sat until four in the morning. Abed explained his project at length, Sadiq interrupting him to question and to ask for clarifications, or to pose objections or protest, or to shake his head suddenly, as if he had realized that he had to wake up after roaming in the imaginary. At the end of the session Sadiq surprised me, he surprised me even though what he did was completely like him. He said, “I agree. I’ll give you a quarter of what I own.” He added, laughing, “According to the canonical law: a quarter for me and my family, a quarter for you, a quarter for Hasan, and a quarter for Mother and Maryam.”
I wanted to ask, “What do you mean, ‘according to the canonical law’?” but I didn’t. My energy was taken up with trying to keep from crying. I didn’t want to cry and divert their attention, or wake up Maryam, who had put her head on my shoulder and gone to sleep.
Sadiq said, “On one condition — that you take the gift.”
Abed said, “According to the canonical law. I’ll take a suit and a shirt and a pair of shoes.”