With the blood rising to my face, I said in a whisper, “Liquor!”
Not appearing to have understood, he asked in a brassy-sounding voice, “Whiskey? Cognac? Beer? Wine?”
Afflicted with the perplexity of the ignorant, I said disconcertedly, “I want liquor.”
The man smiled in a way that pained me and asked, “What kind of liquor do you want? Whiskey? Cognac? Beer? Wine?”
More disconcerted than ever, I asked him, “Which kind is best?”
“That depends on what you’re looking for. But the weather is hot, so beer is preferable.”
Released at last from my indecision, I ordered beer. The waiter disappeared for a few minutes, then brought me a glass of something frothy and set it down in front of me.
Before he’d gone, I asked him, “How many of these does it take to make you drunk?”
After giving me the same sort of look I’d gotten earlier from the carriage driver, he said, “It differs from one person to the next. However, if you’re a beginner, it’s best that you not go over three.”
I took hold of the glass, which was pleasingly cool. I put my nose up to it and sniffed it, and found that it had a pungent smell I didn’t like. However, it was too late to hesitate now. I drew my face near, dipped my tongue into it, then took a wary lick of the foam. My nerves tenser than ever by now, I lifted the glass to my lips, then downed its contents in a single gulp, contorting my face in disgust as though I were taking a dose of castor oil. Its coldness refreshed me, and I could feel it churning in my gut and giving forth a strange sort of warmth. As I sat waiting for the magical effect I’d heard so much about, a group of foreigners walked in, laughing and prattling away in some unintelligible language, and sat around a large table. I was distressed, but they didn’t look my way at all, so I calmed down and went back to feeling the pleasant warmth that was spreading through my insides. The blood that was rising to my head brought a burst of this warmth to my brain, which stretched like someone receiving the sun’s first morning rays as it shook off its anxiety and caution. A delicious sense of relief came over me and my features relaxed. Before long I ordered another glass with a boldness I’d never seen in myself before, and no sooner had the Nubian placed it in front of me than I lifted it to my mouth and gulped it down in two swigs. I waited again, now in a state of perfect repose and with my attention focused inside me, and a wondrous thrill surged through my body and caused me to close my eyes in surrender. It was a thrill that circulated with my blood and danced in my brain, triggering a happiness that was madness itself, and I imagined myself an ethereal creature freed from the trials of its mind, its heart, and its life. With a sense of confidence and importance I’d never experienced before, I lifted my head high in a regal gesture, astounded at this magical bliss that I’d never imagined even to exist. I raised my hand merrily and sprawled out my legs, indifferent to where they happened to land. Then all of a sudden, the image of my beloved materialized before my eyes with her willowy frame and her unswerving, demure gaze, and my heart was flooded with tender affection and longing.
Now I was shaken by an intoxication that went beyond that produced by the alcohol. How enchanting you are, darling! Now I know the secret of wine’s intoxication: it’s love! Love and wine’s intoxication are from a single nectar that flows from deep within the spirit. After all, is a love that flourishes anything more than a prolonged intoxication? So even if I miss out on being loved by you, I won’t miss out on the love that wine has to give. Why am I always afraid? Fears are nothing but illusions. If they weren’t, how could they have disappeared from my horizon in the twinkling of an eye? Wisdom has been revealed to me, and never will I hesitate again. When I see my beloved I’ll gesture or wave to her. She’ll blush and be speechless with surprise. Then it will be her turn to be shy: a heartbeat for a heartbeat, “and whoever starts is most to blame.” She’ll wonder in amazement: Has he finally made a move? Indeed, my love, he has, and nothing can stop him now!
I noticed the waiter hovering around me, so I ordered a third glass and sent it down to join the first and the second. Then I went back to the image of my beloved, my body nothing but hearts and no brain.
As though I were preaching to an unseen companion, I whispered, “If you love someone, declare your affection to her, then let the chips fall where they may!” I remembered my mother, but without fear this time. I was certain that she’d love my sweetheart if she saw her, and that my old fears would be gone forever. As for my grandfather, he was sure to laugh out loud for joy when he heard the happy news. At this point I laughed out loud myself, which caused people to look my way. I cast a glance around me and noticed that the garden was packed with newcomers. Those near me laughed, but I didn’t get flustered. On the contrary, I smiled at them and said with a strange sort of audacity, “Laugh!”
So they laughed, and one of them asked with a smile, “Anything else?”
Thoroughly inebriated by this time, I replied with a slur, “Bring me my sweetheart!”
“Where is she?” the young man asked. “Tell me, and I’ll bring her!”
“In the house in front of the tram stop,” I replied.
“Which tram stop?” he asked with a grin.
I pondered the matter for a little while until I’d thought of a landmark, then said, “The tram stop in front of the public lavatory!”
They all hooted again, then barraged me with jokes and wisecracks, and I laughed with them nonchalantly. Then I thought it best to take my leave, so I called the waiter, paid him, and bade farewell to my drinking companions. As I left, they were still teasing me mercilessly. Staggering, I headed for a carriage in the parking lot. Then, sitting down self-importantly in the middle of the seat, I said to the driver in a loud slur, “To the seat of corruption!”
The carriage took off, and before long I was enjoying its sluggish movement. I began looking at the street in such merriment and delight, I wished the ride would never end. I realized I was embarking on a new experience that was no less dangerous than the one before it, and I was beset by anxiety. However, enthusiasm got the better of me again. The carriage stopped on a noisy street and the driver gestured with his whip, saying with a laugh, “Here’s the original seat of corruption!”
After some hesitation I asked him, “Do you have any idea about the prices?”
“The most expensive time would be a riyal!” he said with a chuckle.
Pained by the expression despite my drunkenness, I got out of the carriage and found myself in a world ablaze with bright lights and swarming with drunks and revelers. The sounds of laughter mingled with curses and shouts, and I could hear the beating of tambourines and stale tunes coming from a worn-out fiddle or a tinny-sounding piano. Meanwhile, my nose was bombarded by the aroma of sweet-smelling incense. I couldn’t bring myself to mix with the crowds of merrymakers, so I made my way to the nearest door and went in. Once inside, I found myself at the entrance to a spacious, circular courtyard onto which numerous doors opened. Around its periphery were couches and chairs occupied by men and women, and its floor was carpeted with bright yellow sand on which a half-naked woman was dancing. My liquor-induced daring seemed to have dissipated by this time, however, and I froze in place, not knowing what to do. I was mesmerized by the dancer, since I was seeing dancing for the first time, and I gaped with revulsion and fear at the writhing, semi-naked body. I was equally disturbed by the state of her face, which was coated with a heavy layer of garish paint. Her lips parted to reveal gold teeth that looked like holiday candies wrapped in shiny paper.