Kiin may be living in a city that has not known peace for ten years and more, which is all the more reason why the legion of comforts that she has created are remarkable in themselves, amenities that are on the one hand pure pleasure and on the other startling when you come upon them. Cambara cannot help drawing a conclusion: that only someone blessed with abundant self-confidence and the joys of living in the coziness of a snug life, fitting in the protected nature of its refuge, can be as giving and magnanimous as Kiin has been to her and, presumably, to many others.
No matter what she thinks of it, Cambara again is sad that she is pinning all her hopes of success on Kiin, whom she hardly knows. What will she do, on whom will she depend, whose assistance will she seek if something terrible happens to the one basket into which she has put all her eggs? It is a pity, she thinks, that Zaak, on whom her mother had hoped she should rely, has proven to be slothful and unworthy of her respect. You can see the differences between Kiin’s and Zaak’s characters in the homes they have created and the lives they lead. Kiin’s life is orderly, an oasis with a spring of plenitude in which countless edibles, flowers, and shady trees flourish and blossom into a Shangri-La of incomparable potential.
At Cambara and Gacal’s approach, the girls fall silent, the younger one running away after a pause and the older one waiting bashfully and smiling. She has a fetching way of carrying herself, her entire spare frame, tall for her age, Cambara presumes, supporting itself on the tiptoe of her right foot in the style of a ballet dancer: kittenish, teasingly coquettish, eyes rolling, her messages mixed. Gacal raises his gaze at Cambara, as if seeking her counsel.
The girl, sounding tuckered out, says to Cambara, “My mum says that she will be late but that you and your guest are to go ahead and our housekeeper will serve you drinks until she joins you.”
Cambara introduces herself as her mother’s friend and then changes her mind just in time before presenting Gacal, not certain how this will play out. She goes closer to the girl, asking, “Tell me, sweet, what’s yours?”
“My name is Sumaya, my sister’s name is Nuura,” the girl replies, indicating to Cambara, from the way she carries herself, that she is older than her chronological age. Her eyes say, “I know a lot more than you think I do.”
Because of this “eye-speak,” Cambara locates Kiin’s worry, assuming that as a mother to a knockout girl brought up in such a protective environment, you will not want to bring along a Gacal who might take advantage of her. Since there is no going back, she decides to play it as safe as possible.
“Why don’t you show us the way?” Cambara suggests.
Sumaya leads them to the veranda, where she shows them to the seats facing the garden. Then, before vanishing into a wing of the house to Cambara’s back, she calls to the housekeeper to let her know that the guests have arrived.
Gacal says, “Nice.”
Cambara is not sure what Gacal intends to say, and hopes that he wants simply to point out that Sumaya is nice in the sense that she is pleasant on the eye and that the whole setup, of which she is a significant part, perhaps the center, is delightful. She prays he will leave it at that and not lust after her nor permit his sexual urges — not that there is any evidence of such so far — to exercise total control over his rapport with Sumaya or her younger sister, because that may upset the mother in Kiin and by extension will disturb the friend in her.
She wishes she had had enough time to get to know what Gacal is made of. What manner of boy is he in the presence of “nice” girls with “nice” little tits who grow up in “nice” homes, girls who come at him showily, as if courting someone who is different from them turns them on? She is aware that it is too late to undo what she has done or to wish that she had not rushed in her desire to spend several hours with him by inviting him to Kiin’s lunch for her. It is typical of her to complicate matters unnecessarily. Why must she always take a not-thought-through plunge, abandoning herself to the dictates of her emotions and committing herself in haste to positions or to persons when what she needs is to take stock of her alternatives, reflect on what is possible and wise and what is foolish and needing revision? Yet she hates to backtrack and is highly reluctant to admit a sense of remorse, insisting that the notion of regret is alien to her. It distresses her too that she has imposed on Kiin, forcing her to agree to Gacal’s presence when it has been obvious that she does not want Gacal to watch Pinocchio with the girls. Maybe Kiin prefers making other arrangements; alas, Kiin hasn’t had much of a chance to propose another option to Cambara’s suggestion.
“You will behave, won’t you?” she says to Gacal.
“I will,” he says, with a glint in his eye and grinning knowingly.
Cambara stops in her tracks, as if considering her course of action. Wising to what is happening, Gacal reaches for her hand, and he takes it in his. He says, “See you later.”
TWENTY
Cambara is deeply worried, searching for the right words, when Sumaya impatiently grabs at the videocassette, taking it from her, and then tells Nuura and Gacal to follow her to the video room. The two girls and Gacal dash off eagerly, with Sumaya promising Gacal that she will show him their rooms, the toys they have there, and the reception room where they will watch Pinocchio. Kiin’s older daughter says, “You can’t imagine how we’ve always wanted to see this film, Nuura and me.”
There is impishness lighting Gacal’s eyes. Full of mischief, he turns to Cambara and for effect elongates his vowels. “See you laaaater, Aligaaator,” he says.
She is about to tell him off, at least remind him to behave, when Nuura drags him away, pulling him by the hand. Just before they disappear around a wall and then into the corridor, she follows them for a bit, then watches them, in silence, unable to decide whether to go after them and call him back or to let him be and wait for another opportunity. She settles on pleading with them and says, “Wait, wait, let me tell you what I think,” but they slink off speedily, and one of the girls closes the door from inside.
Turning, alone in the corridor, the two girls gone with Gacal in tow, Cambara finds herself overwhelmed by a sense of desperation, whereon she replays her first and so far only potential contretemps with Kiin, who was hesitant to allow Gacal to join them for lunch at her house and then watch Pinocchio with her daughters. It was in connection with this that Cambara had a judicious rethink, almost calling off her original idea that Gacal come with her or that he watch the film with her daughters. Now she attributes her earlier disquiet to the fact that she didn’t follow through with the suggestion that she take him back to the hotel for his lunch, not necessarily at the restaurant but maybe at the kitchen, like the other employees. After all, Sumaya, too eager and too quick, made a grab for the videocassette, snatching it away from him, and ran off with it, the others pursuing her as excited children often do. Maybe she was too slow in finding the appropriate words in which to divulge her revised agenda, which apparently presented itself as a new trajectory, by far wiser and less harmful to all concerned. Meanwhile, Sumaya, fast moving in her eagerness to watch the film, is off, half running, the others chasing and paying no heed to Cambara’s repeated appeals to wait and listen, as her only chance to present her new plan slips away.