“Rabab,” I said gloomily, “Don’t hide anything from me. Has your mother started harping on that old theme again?”
Her face clouded over and she made no reply.
“What would you know about it?” she retorted sharply.
“I want to know everything!”
So I told her what my mother had told me.
After listening to me attentively, she exploded, “Your mother! Your mother! Always your mother!”
Feeling the same sting that I always did whenever I was reminded of their mutual dislike, I said, “There’s no reason to get angry. She heard what she did by chance, and she passed it on to me with good intentions as far as I can see. I beg you, don’t get angry. Just tell me: Has your mother gone back to that old subject?”
Drawing her legs out from behind me and planting them on the floor, she looked down gloomily and angrily.
“The thing I hadn’t wanted to upset you with was that she suggested that I go to a doctor to see why I haven’t gotten pregnant. I rejected her suggestion, of course, and we got into an argument!”
We carried on with the odious conversation for quite some time until she asked me not to say anything more, and to lie down and get some rest after my day at work. Complying with her wishes, I went and lay down on the bed, grieved and melancholy. It took me quite some time to doze off, and I don’t know how long I slept. However, I woke to the sound of something that caused slumber to flee from my eyes. I opened my eyes feeling disturbed, and my ears were bombarded by a ruckus coming from the living room. As I listened attentively, it soon became apparent that Rabab and my mother were exchanging the harshest of words in a noisy shouting match. Alarmed, I jumped out of bed, then rushed into the living room.
I found Rabab with sparks flying from her eyes as she screamed, “This sort of spying doesn’t become a respectable lady!”
When my mother saw me, she lowered her eyes as she said, “This impertinence is more than I can take!”
“Rabab!” I cried.
However, she avoided me and stormed back into our room in a rage. As for my mother, she turned around and proceeded to her room with heavy steps. As I came toward her in a pained silence, I saw her take hold of the doorknob, then stand there without turning it as though she’d changed her mind about going in. Then she placed her hand on her forehead and seemed to gradually slump over. I rushed over to her, and no sooner had I touched her than she fell into my arms. Terrified, I called to her, but she didn’t respond, her head and arms drooping lifelessly. I summoned Sabah with a shout and she came running, then together we carried her to the bed and lay her down. I brought a bottle of cologne and sprinkled some of it on her face and neck, then used it to massage her limbs. Hysterical by now, I began calling to her over and over in a hoarse, trembling voice. She remained unconscious for several minutes that dragged by like hours. Then she opened her eyelids to reveal lusterless eyes.
“Mama!” I cried with a gulp.
She focused her gaze on me, then pointed to her heart without uttering a word. I left the flat and took off for the grocery on the first floor of our building, where I called her doctor and asked him to come. Then I went back up to the flat and sat beside her feeling terrified and grieved. I didn’t take my eyes off her for a moment, and eventually her lackluster gaze drew out the tears that had been trapped inside me. I felt like the most miserable person on earth, and my soul was filled with bitterness and despair.
Then the doctor came and examined her. He said she’d had a heart attack and would require extended bed rest and intensive care, and as he normally did, he prescribed some medicine.
I told him she’d fainted after an argument with the servant.
In reply he said, “The argument was a secondary cause, but the underlying condition has been there for a long time.”
That night was a dismal one. Rabab, feeling responsible for what had happened, disappeared into our room and cried her heart out. As for me, all I could do was try to console her.
Patting her on the shoulder, I said, “You’ve cried enough now. This was God’s will, and may He cause everything to work out for the best.”
58
It wasn’t long before the house was filled with visitors. Rabab’s family and a group of her relatives came to see us, as did my sister Radiya and her family. Rabab also came to see the patient, kissing her hand and tearfully asking her forgiveness. I even hoped that, through this incident, we could start a new life free of rancor and hearts in conflict.
Then, taking advantage of a few moments when no strangers were in the room, Radiya said to me, “I’d like to ask your permission to take Mama home with me until she gets her strength back.”
“That’s impossible!” I said, alarmed at the suggestion.
Smiling at me sympathetically, she went on, saying, “Don’t you see that she needs constant care? Who will care for her here? You’re busy with your work and so is your wife, and Sabah is responsible for taking care of the house. So who will you assign the job of taking care of our mother?”
However, her suggestion remained totally unacceptable to me, and I resisted all her compelling arguments.
With an insistence that came from the depths of my heart, I said, “She won’t have to stay in bed for long, God willing. According to the doctor, she’ll only need someone to be constantly at her side for the first week, and I’ll be sure to find a servant who can devote herself full-time to caring for her.”
Radiya tried valiantly to persuade me of her suggestion, but to no avail, and the discussion ended with her deciding to stay in our house until I was able to find a servant. On the third day after my mother’s heart attack, my brother Medhat — whom I’d informed of her illness by special delivery letter — arrived with his wife. During the first days after her attack, she was very ill indeed. She didn’t move a muscle and she would hardly utter a word. When she opened her weary eyes, they were languid and dull. She would look around at us in silent resignation, and I felt as though my heart was breaking. We didn’t leave her side, and if she revived slightly, she would look back and forth among us with a smile on her parched lips, or spread out her hands and look heavenward, murmuring a prayer of supplication in a low, feeble voice. However, she didn’t remain in this near-comatose state for long, and by the end of the first week she’d begun to improve slightly. She realized clearly that all her children were gathered around her, and it gladdened her as though she were seeing them all together for the first time in her life. One day when we’d congregated around her bed, she sat there happily and looked at us for a long time without saying a word. Then, her face glowing with joy, she said in a feeble whisper, “How happy I am with you all! Praise and thanks be to God!”
Her eyes glistening with tenderness and emotion, she continued, “If illness brings us together this way, then I hope it never ends.”
Despite her illness, then, she seemed happy, and her happiness found its way into our hearts as well. Our family, which God had caused to be scattered in its earlier years, had been united. We were all under one roof now, eating and drinking together, and our hearts beat as one. What wondrous days those were! Our very beings breathed out sympathy, tenderness, and joy. However, the togetherness was short-lived. It wasn’t long before my mother’s health improved and the danger passed, although the doctor insisted that she not get out of bed for a month at the very least. Medhat bade us farewell and took his family back to Fayoum, promising to visit from time to time. Radiya also went back to her own house once I’d succeeded in finding a servant for my mother, with the agreement that she would visit our mother every day. And thus it was that the gathering broke up, we went our separate ways, and everything went back to the way it had been before. Hardly two weeks had passed before my mother began recovering her vitality and alertness and was able to sit up in bed with a pillow folded behind her back. It thrilled me no end to see Rabab fulfill her obligations toward her mother-in-law, and never will I forget the bitter pain and distress she suffered during the first days of my mother’s crisis.