“Yes,” she stammered quickly. “I told her there wasn’t anything new!”
And with that, I heaved a sigh of relief! She’d been referring to a “truth” other than the one I’d had in mind. Yet I was still bothered.
“Rabab,” I said fervently, “is that all she said? Please don’t hide anything from me. You know how much you mean to me!”
I could see the innocence in her eyes as she said uneasily, “What are you wondering about, Kamil? I didn’t tell her a thing more than what I’ve told you. She asked me about the matter, and I had no choice but to answer her honestly. As you know, it’s something it wouldn’t do any good to lie about. Do you think I was wrong? Or did you want me to pretend to be pregnant?”
Somewhat relieved, I said, “Of course not, sweetheart. You did the right thing by being honest.”
To myself, though, I was thinking: I’ll never know a moment’s rest as long as that woman is near me. O Lord! I’m keeping my worries all to myself, without a single friend or advisor to my name. I’ve had it with her mother, my mother, and myself! Then the old question came back to me: Is the thing we lack really necessary for married life? Does my beloved experience the same sorts of animal desires that drove me to take up my iniquitous habit? Is it conceivable that my pristine, chaste beloved would feel that same sort of untamed lust? The possibility was too abhorrent to imagine!
* * *
At last my vacation came to an end and I went back to the warehousing section at the ministry, where the employees gave me a warm welcome back. I didn’t have a single friend among them, but the nature of the occasion — namely, a newlywed husband’s return from his honeymoon — caused them to forget their usual reserve, and they approached me, some of them with congratulations and others with jokes, all of which I received with discomfort and embarrassment. They talked a lot, and one of them warned me against overdoing it. They got so involved in their conversation, in fact, that they forgot all about me. They got on the subject of the nature of man and nature of the woman and started citing examples, incidents, and anecdotes. My heart burdened and my soul in agony, I listened to them covertly while pretending to examine the typewriter. How I wished one of them would cite a case like mine! However, “a case like mine” hadn’t even occurred to any of them. I listened till I thought my head would burst. Rabab was a woman. So, was what was true of other women — if the things I’d heard from the other employees were accurate — true of her also? Might she be getting bored with me? On the other hand, she seemed content. Never once had I seen her face but that it was aglow with happiness. Never once had she looked at me with anything but love and devotion, and surely her face wouldn’t lie. On the contrary, it was like an open book that couldn’t possibly conceal deceit or wrongdoing. They were lying! They were animals, and they saw other people as animals like themselves. However, I wasn’t fully reassured, and I wasn’t going to be reassured no matter how I tried to convince myself that things were all right. After all, the seed of doubt had been planted now.
When I was alone with my beloved that day, I looked pensively at her for a long time without saying a word.
Laughing, she said, “Do you miss your old habit of looking at me without talking?”
A pleasant gentle breeze wafted over my heart as I thought back to the old days when my heart was aflame, hope was alive, and the possibility of an ordeal like the one I was going through hadn’t so much as occurred to me. I drank in the memory with relish.
“Rabab,” I said apprehensively, “are you happy?”
She looked at me in surprise and said earnestly, “Very happy.”
Then, looking down diffidently I asked, “Do you love me?”
She’d been sitting a handspan away from me, and when she heard my question, she moved over toward me till we were touching, looked up at me with a blush and murmured, “Yes, I do!”
I put my arm around her waist and kissed her lips and her cheeks. Then I took her lovely, petite hand in mine and began kissing her fingertips one at a time with tenderness and ardor. By what I had said, I’d actually been trying to prepare the way to talk about what I’d been keeping to myself with such grievous consequences. But when I was about to speak, I lost my nerve, and my tongue too. I wanted to tell her what was bothering me and confess to her that the problem I was facing in relation to her was a strange, passing thing that I didn’t understand. I wanted to tell her that I hadn’t been this way, and in fact, still wasn’t this way when I found myself alone, and I wanted to ask her for counsel and help. These were the kinds of things I’d wanted to say. However, my determination gave out on me and I retreated in helplessness, conceding defeat as usual. Then I started justifying my retreat to myself, saying: It might offend her or make her angry for me to reveal such secrets. In fact, it might ruin her happiness forever!
When we went to bed that night, I was tempted to try again, but I hesitated. In fact, I hesitated for so long that fear got the better of me and I gave up on the idea. As much as I loved her, I’d begun to fear her body. As I pondered my life in the silence and darkness of the night, it seemed strange and disjointed, and the thought left me in such anguish that the only outlet I could find was tears. So I had a long cry.
44
Then it occurred to me to consult a doctor. The thought came unexpectedly. In fact, it may have been mere coincidence. I hadn’t considered consulting a doctor before due to my exceeding shyness on one hand, and on the other, my belief that a doctor wouldn’t be able to treat a condition like mine. However, one day as I was on my way to the ministry, my eye fell upon a large sign fixed to a balcony on Qasr al-Aini Street. The words “Dr. Amin Rida, Specialist in Reproductive Disorders, University of Dublin” were written on it in large script. I hadn’t seen the sign before, and suddenly I had the urge to consult a physician. Even so, I didn’t succumb to the idea without hesitation. The thought aroused my shame and fear, which nearly convinced me to change my mind. But this time, my longing for deliverance was more powerful than my shame, and I made up my mind to go that evening.
When I arrived at the clinic, the doctor was busy examining a patient, so I sat down to wait. The waiting room was empty, which was a tremendous relief to me, though it caused me to think less highly of the doctor. I wasn’t kept waiting long, and a few minutes later I was invited into the examination room, which was impressive and pleasing to the eye: fully equipped, and fitted out with instruments so awesome that my confidence in the doctor was restored. He was sitting directly to the right of the entrance at a large desk covered with books and notebooks. A young man who couldn’t have been more than thirty years old, he was tall and slender with kinky hair, a dark complexion, delicate but distinct features, and intense eyes that gleamed from behind an elegant pair of spectacles. One noticeable thing about him was a bushy, coal-black mustache that covered his mouth and lent him a dignified appearance that caused him to look more mature than his years. I greeted him, and he returned my greeting rather tersely. As he did so, he shot me a questioning glance that struck me as condescending and arrogant. He seemed to possess a self-confidence that bordered on conceit, and I didn’t like him. Overall, his appearance was a disappointment to me, since I’d expected to find a distinguished-looking elderly man with a friendly smile on his face, like a certain doctor my mother had once taken me to many years earlier. Consequently, I felt offended, and wished I hadn’t led myself into this trap.
“Have a seat,” he said calmly.
I complied with his request, eyeing him apprehensively. He began looking at me as though he were waiting for me to speak first. However, my thoughts were scattered and my throat was dry, so I sat there without saying a word.