Now that our peace of mind had been restored and all my mother needed was rest, albeit of an extended nature, we resumed our usual ways of life. Rabab went back to entertaining herself with evening visits to her relatives, and I took off again to my old haunt. I had asked my mother for permission to go out several hours a day for rest and recreation, and she’d given her enthusiastic consent, telling me how it pained her to see me having to stay by her side like a prisoner. And I left the house thinking: If I were the sick one, would she ask my permission to leave the room for rest and recreation? Life’s logic seemed harsh to me. But what was to be done about it?
I went flying back to Inayat. She would telephone me at the ministry every morning, so she knew why I hadn’t been able to see her. We went back to meeting the way we had before in our lovers’ nest, where we would get drunk and make love. It was a strange life. However, what I fear the most is that my memory may have failed me, if even in relation to a few of the details. Was I really happy? My heart was divided between my mother, my wife, and Inayat, between memories of the past, a sublime, ethereal love, and another love that was torrid and down-to-earth. I felt that I’d found refuge from life’s storms in a tranquil harbor. Even so, the old anxiety began knocking cautiously and hesitantly at my door again, as if shyness prevented it from storming in for no apparent reason. It’s true, of course, that I was proceeding on my way, but I would pause and hesitate every now and then as though I were wondering if there was something I’d forgotten. I’d think to myself: Should I keep on going full steam ahead, or would it be better for me to stop and take a look at what’s around me? However, I would conclude that there was no reason for hesitation and continue merrily on my way.
Then one day I noticed that Rabab wasn’t her usual cheery, energetic self. When I asked her what was wrong, she told me she’d had a tiring day at work and that she thought she might be coming down with the flu. I stayed home that evening, and the following morning, not long after she woke up, she vomited unexpectedly, then lay down exhausted. I suggested that I call her a doctor, but she rejected the idea, saying it was just a minor cold and that she could treat it without a doctor’s help. Her mother came to visit her and stayed the entire day in her room. However, on the third day Rabab insisted on going back to work, telling me she felt well again. And in fact, she went to the kindergarten despite my having advised her to stay home for a day or two longer. When she came home from work that afternoon, she was worse than she had been in the morning. Even so, she insisted that she was perfectly healthy. In fact, she got dressed and left the house the following two days as well. When she came home from the kindergarten on the second day at her regularly scheduled time, I was at the seamstress’s house. But when I got home at half past eleven, I didn’t find her in our room. Sabah, who appeared to have been awaiting my arrival, came rushing up to me and said, “Miss Rabab will be spending the night at her mother’s house, and they sent the servant to inform us of it.”
Bewildered and upset by the news, I asked Sabah, “Why is she going to do that?”
In a fearful tone of voice, the servant replied, “She’s fine, sir. I visited her and saw her myself. But she has a bit of a fever, and the Madame wasn’t willing to expose her to the night air, so she thought it best for her to spend the night at her house until the fever goes down.”
I left the room straightaway in exasperation, saying, “I warned her that this might happen, and I told her again and again not to leave the house!”
I was met in the living room by my mother’s servant, Nafisa, who told me that my mother wanted me to come see her. When I went to her room, she expressed her regret over Rabab’s illness and instructed me to tell Rabab that she was praying for her. I thanked her and left the house, furious and worried.
59
Everyone was asleep and the house was completely dark except for a light that emanated from the mother’s room. I went directly there and found Rabab lying in bed and her mother sitting in a bed opposite hers on the other side of the room. Rabab greeted me with a smile, while the mother slipped out of the bed she’d been sitting in and came toward me, saying, “That’s what we figured! We said, ‘He’ll be upset and come the minute he finds out.’ However, it’s just a touch of the flu.”
I went over to Rabab’s bed and took her hand.
“Didn’t I advise you not to go out?” I asked reproachfully. “What’s wrong? Why didn’t you come home?”
In reply, she pointed to her mother with a smile and said, “I wanted to, but Mama wouldn’t let me.”
“Her condition isn’t anything to worry about,” affirmed Madame Nazli hastily. “However, it could be very dangerous to be exposed to the outside air.”
“I’ll call the doctor right away,” I said decisively.
“We already did that,” said the mother. “In fact, it was the doctor himself who advised her not to go out. It’s nothing serious at all, though, and she’ll be back home within a week or ten days at the most.”
Feeling at a loss, I sat down on a plush sofa between the two beds. However, the mother’s seeming composure gradually made me feel calmer myself.
The mother then went on, saying, “Influenza is nothing serious in and of itself. However, we have to be careful that she doesn’t have a relapse.”
As I listened absently to the mother, I looked over at my beloved with both my eyes and my spirit. Rabab looked over at me with a wan smile. There was a look of exhaustion in her eyes, and a veil had descended over her usual sweet, sunny look. Silence reigned for some time. Then suddenly I remembered Gabr Bey and asked about him. The mother replied that he was on an inspection tour and would be back at the end of the week. When the clock struck eleven-thirty, I excused myself, kissed my wife on the forehead, and left the house.
* * *
The next morning, I left the house twenty minutes earlier than the usual time. Sabah had requested my permission to visit Rabab, so we turned household affairs over to Nafisa and I went right away to Gabr Bey’s house. When I met Muhammad and Rouhiya on the stairs, I greeted them and asked them about Rabab, and the little sister replied that she was fine. Once inside the flat, I went to the room, where I found Rabab in bed and her mother sitting on the couch. She returned my greeting with a gentle smile, but her eyes were so dull, she seemed not to have slept a wink the night before. Seeing her this way, I felt fretful and dejected. However, rather than letting on how I was feeling, I lied, saying, “I see that you’re better!”
With a resignation that made my heart ache, she replied, “Thanks be to God.”
I sat near her on the edge of the sofa and gazed steadily into her face. She’d wrapped her head in a brown handkerchief that framed her face, which looked gaunt and pale, and her eyes were solemn and lackluster. A pall of gloom descended over my spirit, the world looked dismal to me, and her face looked ashen and unattractive.
Noticing my dejection, Madame Nazli said in astonishment, “Is this the first time you’ve seen somebody with a cold? You pamper her too much, Kamil!”
It consoled me somewhat to see that the person who was making light of her condition was her mother herself, since if my wife had been suffering from something truly worrisome, her mother would have been beside herself. I leaned slightly toward the bed and placed my hand on her cheek, which was hot.