As he listened attentively to his brother, Hassanein studied his face. He was appalled at the disfigurement and the strange changes in it; it was as though Hassan in one year of his precarious life had gone through what would normally have been many years. Hassan had already stopped talking. Depressed and pessimistic, Hassanein realized the heavy weight of the task he had come to perform, but not for a moment did it occur to him to abandon what seemed to be his sense of duty. Determined to approach the purpose of his visit gently, he said, “I’m afraid my visit may have upset you.”
“Spit those words out of your mouth! What’s that I’m hearing from our respected officer?”
Pretending astonishment, Hassanein pointed to the exterior of the flat. “A strange man opened the door for me. Horrified, he cried, ‘The Police!’ and shut the door in my face!”
“An unfortunate misunderstanding,” Hassan said, laughing aloud. “But when I recognized your voice, everything ended up all right.”
Finding himself in difficulty, Hassanein hesitated before asking him, “But why was he so scared?”
Hassan looked at his brother inquisitively. Was he really ignorant or just playing the fool? “There are people, you know,” he replied indifferently, “who have a phobia about the police.”
“Isn’t it dangerous for you,” Hassanein asked, “to shelter such people under your roof?”
“Yes, it is,” Hassan said after a pause. “But a man isn’t free to choose his companions.”
“How is this, brother?” Hassanein inquired with astonishment. “Certainly a man is free to choose his companions!”
“Forget about it. Let’s change the subject.”
“I can’t, until I’m reassured about you.”
“Then be reassured and don’t worry about me,” Hassan answered with a laugh.
“I wonder what makes you befriend such evil people. You’re a respectable artist and you can choose your friends from your fellow artists.”
Hassan lowered his eyes to hide the grim look that appeared in them. He was infuriated, and had his anger been aroused by anyone other than Hassanein, he would have exploded. He was hurt that Hassanein knew more than he pretended to know about him and that he treated him like a child. Had Hassanein spoken his mind, had he described him as being as evil as his companions, he would not have felt angry as he did now. Determined to tear off the mask which concealed the true drift of their conversation, Hassan, still restraining his anger, spoke curtly in a tone different from before. “I’m one of these evil people!”
Hassanein was astounded.
“Hassanein! Stop pretending to be astonished,” Hassan said roughly. “You’re not a fool. Neither am I. You’d better speak to me as frankly as you always used to. What’s so strange about my being a black sheep? Haven’t I always been one, all my life?”
Sullen and ashamed, Hassanein lowered his eyes. His thoughts shattered, he fell speechless. Relieved by his brother’s confusion, Hassan’s merriment returned. Desiring to put an end to this painful conversation, he said, “Let’s forget about the whole thing. Damn the coward! But for his childish panic, our conversation wouldn’t have taken this foolish course. Now let’s discuss more important matters. I’ve no doubt,” he said, laughing, “that you’ve come to talk to me about a more important subject!”
Hassanein collected his thoughts. “I have, in fact,” he said with a sigh, “come only to discuss this matter with you.”
Hassan’s face clouded with resentment. “I thought,” he said ironically, “you’d come to ask for money.”
Although he knew how angry his brother was, Hassanein did not waver. Ingratiating himself with his brother, he said gently, “Thank you for your previous kindness. But I’m no longer in need of money. I’ve come to discuss a matter much more serious than money. I want to reassure myself about you.”
Hassan cast a piercing look at his brother. “I still demand that you be more frank with me!” he said in an ironical tone. “My respected officer, you want to get reassured about yourself and not about me!”
In defeat and indignation, Hassanein answered, “They are one and the same.”
“Really? I see things differently. Why didn’t you give me this piece of advice before? A year ago, for example?”
Having inadvertently said that he had come only to discuss this matter, it was impossible for him to pretend that he had known nothing about it. Annoyed, he posed this question to avoid answering his brother: “Don’t you see that I’m interested in your own good?”
Hassan ignored the question. “A year ago,” he continued in the same ironical tone, “you were in desperate need of money. So you didn’t care then to give me advice. Now that you’ve become an officer, your sole concern is to protect this shining star on your shoulder.”
Hassanein’s face remained unchanged, but his heart palpitated with anger and irritation. He seemed shaken by the fact that Hassan was able to penetrate the depths of his soul with such ease and accuracy. “Brother,” he said softly. Hassan motioned to him to keep silent.
“I’ll be entirely frank with you,” Hassan added recklessly. “If you really want to know what my work is, I’ll tell you that I’m a bouncer for a coffeehouse in Darb Tiab.” He pointed to the photograph above his head. “I also keep this mistress and deal in narcotics.”
“I don’t believe you,” Hassanein exclaimed, worried.
“Yes, you’d better believe me. Perhaps you guessed it earlier and now you’re sure of it. Now what do you think?”
In silent pain and compassion, the young man looked at Hassan. But as the silence weighed heavily upon him, he said sadly, “Nothing would make me happier than to see you start a new, honorable life.”
With a loud laugh, Hassan said sarcastically, “By virtue of my dishonorable life, I was able to protect our family from starvation, provide your brother Hussein with the money he needed to start his government job, and to provide you as well with the installment of the College fee which, thank God, has made you an officer.”
Hassan’s words, as sharp as a needle, pierced Hassanein to the marrow. Life seemed about to suffocate him. But a strong desire to defend himself prevented him from accepting defeat. “All of this has come about,” he said, “only by virtue of your nobility of character, not because of such a dangerous life as this!”
“Don’t deceive yourself. They call me Mr. Head, not Mr. Noble. Besides, what do you mean by a dishonorable life? Or an honorable one? There’s only one life, in which we all strive to make a living, each in his or her own way.”
“But there is a secure life and another kind of life that flies into panic at the mere mention of the police.”
“This is due to the arbitrary actions of the police and we’re not to blame. For heaven’s sake, what do you want me to do?”
Hassanein’s enthusiasm returned in what he thought might be a ray of hope. “Abandon this life and take an honest job as before.”
Bursting into laughter, the man said with astonishment, “A mechanic’s apprentice? Asking me this is like asking a man to resign from the army to start school life at Tawfikiyah.”
Once more the blood in Hassanein’s veins boiled with anger. Composing himself, he asked with a smile, “Don’t you realize how such a life must inevitably end?”
“Either I’m imprisoned or killed!” Hassan answered in ironic simplicity. “And if it’s my fate to be killed, then, naturally, I’ll be saved from imprisonment.”
Hassanein pretended to laugh, but his anger increased, especially at his brother’s recklessness. Almost desperate though he was to change Hassan, he replied gently, “Obviously, you realize the danger, so you don’t need me to remind you of the disastrous consequences of your kind of life. For God’s sake, be wise enough to take care of yourself.”
Hassan cast a prolonged, smiling glance at his brother, as if saying to him, “Don’t try to deceive me with your softness.”
“Don’t worry about me,” he said. “May God forgive me;
but I should rather say, don’t be worried about yourself and your reputation. My advice to you is, don’t burden yourself with unnecessary worries and shut me entirely out of your life. Don’t worry about what people may say about you because of me. Despite what people say, you can lead the life that appeals to you.”
Desperate and exasperated, Hassanein sighed. He was filled at this moment with black anger toward his brother, and actually wished he didn’t exist. But the fact remained that he did exist and his existence, hanging like a sword over his head, was a perpetual threat to him. What should he do? Sighing again, he inquired, “Isn’t there a gleam of hope that you’ll return to an honorable life? Is this your final word?”
Hassan became furious. As if afraid of what he might do to his brother in his fury, he leapt to his feet and walked back and forth across the room, thus giving vent to his pent-up anger in his violent strides. He leaned on the edge of the bed, his arms crossed against his chest. “An honorable life!” he shouted impatiently. “An honorable life! Don’t let me hear such words from you again. You make me sick. A mechanic earning a few piasters a day. Is this the honorable life you’re talking about? I’d rather spend my life in prison. If I’d followed your honorable life all along, that star would not be decorating your shoulder. Is it only my life that isn’t honorable? Young officer, you’re laboring under a delusion. Your life is no more honorable, since mine is its origin.” He pointed again to the photograph. “I’ve made an officer of you with illegal money obtained from this woman and from traffic in narcotics. So you’re indebted for your uniform to narcotics and this prostitute. Fair enough; if you really want me to abandon my tainted life, then you, too, must abandon yours. Go ahead, take off your uniform and let’s start a new honorable life together.”
Hassanein’s face turned pale. Dumbfounded and desperate, he cast down his eyes, his heart seething with anger. Again and again, his lips twitched as if he would speak, but overwhelmed with mounting despair, he soon closed them. Sullen and miserable as Hassanein was, Hassan had no mercy.
“Don’t you see,” he persisted, “that you prefer the star on your uniform to an honorable life? I don’t blame you. Like you, I prefer my earnings to an honorable life.” He laughed. “We’re brothers and the same blood runs in our veins.”
Frowning, Hassanein stood up. “Don’t mock me for the advice I’ve given you. Farewell,” he added as he walked to the door. But he paused, his hand on the knob.
Hassan spoke to him with unexpected tenderness. “Before you go, don’t you want to shake hands with me?”
Hassanein turned, stretched out his hand. Hassan pressed it for a while in his. “I’m sorry I’ve made you angry,” he said with a laugh. “Forget what has happened and let’s keep, even at a distance, the same old mutual feelings. You’ll always find me the same Mr. Head you know quite well. And please convey my regards to Mother and Nefisa. Goodbye.”
SEVENTY-TWO
Intolerably miserable and preoccupied, Hassanein gave his mother a clear picture of Hassan’s life. Heavy in heart, sullen, rancorous, and hopeless, he listened to her advice and consolation. With still a few days left before he had to join his regiment, he thought of leaving for Tanta to visit Hussein. The same old urge to consult with his brother in time of distress! He hesitated, but did not carry out his plan. Instead, it was consolation, not longing for the girl, that drove him to visit Farid Effendi. Conscious of this change, Hassanein attributed it to his melancholy, although he realized it was more than casual or temporary. On the third morning after his visit to Hassan, he wondered, baffled, if he had stopped loving Bahia. He sat alone with her in the sitting room, while her mother was busy in the kitchen, and continued to wonder if he was still in love with her. She was his girl, body and soul, and sure enough, she stimulated his desire. Yet he felt inclined to break with her as part of the process of breaking with his past. Yes, he desired her, but he was torn by a perplexing conflict between desire and uncertainty whether he still loved her! How was it possible, he wondered, to desire her and stop loving her at the same time? But despite the strong physical attraction, he wished to break their engagement as much as he wished to break with the alley and his brother’s life. She was no longer his ideal girl. He came to think of his attachment to her as a symptom of a kind of lunacy of which he must be cured. As he gazed at her fine, quiet face, an incarnate torment, his heart pinched in pain. Undecided, he tried to dismiss his thoughts.
“Don’t stare at me like that!” he heard her say.
If only he could take her to his breast and press a thousand kisses on her! In the future his attitude toward her might change, but he regretted this period of protracted deprivation. “I’d like to give you a kiss. With this we could start a new life!” He smiled.
“That’s all you think about!”
“Is there anything more pleasurable?”
She lowered her eyes. “There are more important matters,” she said hesitantly.
He guessed her meaning at once. Dismissing his worries, he inquired, “What’s more important than a kiss?”
“For once in your life, would you speak to me seriously?”
“But, seriously, I want to kiss you.”
Somewhat perplexed, as if deliberately to oppose threatening danger, once she gained control she continued: “Don’t you know what Mother says?”
He guessed right, it was bound to come. “What did she say?” he asked stupidly.
Shyly, she answered with difficulty in a low voice. “She says we’ve been waiting too long, now that you’re an officer!”
Her presumptuous statement angered him in the extreme; although he realized that there was no reason for anger, at this moment his heart filled with hate for her mother.
“Does she want to hasten our marriage?”
“No,” she murmured, flushing, “but she thinks it’s about time we announced our engagement.”
“Hasn’t it already been announced?”
Embarrassed, she felt the ring finger of her right hand. “Certain formalities are still incomplete,” she said.
He got the point, and was overcome with an unaccountable resentment. The request was reasonable enough, but, like a hunted animal at the approach of danger, he developed an aversion to the girl’s family. As he studied her face, he remembered what his classmates on the bus had said about her. She’s a good-hearted girl, he thought, but she doesn’t deserve to be the wife of an officer like me. And if this marriage takes place, it would be the first of its kind.
“These things aren’t important,” he said calmly, with a smile.
“But to other people they are extremely important. Our relatives have been asking about the engagement ring for a long time.”
If only, he wondered, she could show the same enthusiasm for making love. She wants to marry me, not love me, he thought. That’s why she’s so frigid and reserved. Why would I marry her if I didn’t love her passionately?
“No need to hurry,” he said. “We’ll realize our hopes in due time.”
“But when is ‘due time’?”
“I think,” he said, knitting his brows as if in deliberation, “I will be able both to support our own home and to help my family—who need me, as you know—when I’m promoted to the rank of lieutenant.”
Downcast, dumbfounded, and dim-eyed, she bit her fingernails. While his words afforded him relief and a sense of liberty, yet her misery touched his heart. His heart beat violently as he looked at her body. Forgetting his anger and fears, he arose and sat beside her on the sofa. But she moved away from him to the farthest end, holding him back with her arms, resisting him, with a lingering, sad look in her eyes. He seized her arms and imprinted kisses on her palms. She arose and left him. “Let go of me,” she exclaimed. “Let go of me. You’ve changed.”
Out of his mind with excitement, he rose and followed her. Embracing her, his limbs quivered. She pushed him away, but he thrust his mouth violently on her lips. She leaned her head back, and he missed her mout
h, his lips touching her chin. She wrested herself from his grasp, and they stood, panting, face to face.
“Don’t use force with me,” she sobbed.
As his lust turned to anger, he thought of leaving the room. He took two steps toward the door, then turned suddenly to her. Anger giving way to mad desire, he pounced upon her, determined to satiate it. Her hands resisted, but he embraced her, took her to his breast with brutal violence, and pressed a kiss on her lips. It was no use turning her face away to escape him. His mouth persistently searching for hers, he struggled against her resistance with brutal force until he crushed her to him. She almost fainted in his arms. Paying no attention, he kept pressing her to his chest until he sensed the softness of her plump body on his abdomen and thighs, and a profound sensation of satisfaction arose in him as though he were exploring the pleasures of life for the first time. She put up a feeble, token resistance as short-lived as the moments of wakefulness that precede death. But as he crushed her resistance, he became mad with desire, and yearned for further satisfaction. A sweeping, melting pleasure ran through every one of his nerves, inconceivable pleasure; then he collapsed in sudden surrender. When he came to, he found the girl in his arms, his lips on her cheek. As his arms relaxed, she retreated with a push on his chest. “I’ll never forgive you,” she said.
Her words had no effect at all; he ignored her existence and was indifferent to them. He felt triumphant and relieved. As his senses cooled, he retreated in astonishment to his former seat. Wavering, she stood motionless, then resentfully returned to her chair, scolding his deaf ears. He looked at her curiously. He wondered: Is it she? Is it I? Where are we? An intolerable sense of coolness weighed heavily upon him.
He listened to her without taking the trouble to apologize. Her mother came in; taking advantage of the latter’s presence, he sat for a while with her, then excused himself. As he left the flat he felt a strong desire to escape, and at that moment the thought of traveling to Tanta returned. He smiled, welcoming the idea with enthusiasm.