Alaa al-Aswany - The Automobile Club of Egypt

I looked at her and said nothing.

“Abd el-Barr,” she repeated, “is in the sitting room and wants to see you.”

“I don’t want to see his face.”

“Saleha, the man has come all the way over here.”

“Have you changed your mind, Mother?”

“Oh, Saleha, I haven’t changed anything, but the man is in our home. Courtesy dictates that you see him. You will have to deal with him before it’s all over. If you refuse to see him, he could start making things difficult.”

I realized that by law I was still the wife of Abd el-Barr. It was in my best interests not to upset him further until he had agreed to a divorce. I asked my mother to make some tea and wait with him until I got dressed. I put on the white dress and combed my hair, leaving two locks dangling over my forehead. I put on some red lipstick and a bit of powder. I was astonished at what I was doing. If I could not stand Abd el-Barr, why was I making myself look nice for him? Maybe it was to let him understand what he was losing or perhaps to let him see that his absence was having no effect on me.

When I went into the sitting room, I found my mother sitting across from Abd el-Barr, who was wearing a gray suit and a white open-necked shirt. He jumped up and smiled as he greeted me. “How nice to see you, Saleha.”

I mumbled a few words under my breath and looked away. My mother stood up.

“Excuse me. I’ve got things to do in the kitchen.”

I sat in the chair near the door, as if to show that I could leave at any moment. Abd el-Barr cleared his throat.

“Saleha, I want to tell you that I’m not a drug addict.”

“Whatever you say.”

“The first time in my life was the day you saw me doing it. A friend of mine gave me the powder and told me that if I was down in the dumps or stressed, I should take it. It was the first and last time.”

He continued talking quickly, as if delivering a prepared speech.

“Please forgive me for getting upset with you, Saleha.”

“Upset” seemed an understatement given his punches. I said nothing. I could hardly contain my fury.

Abd el-Barr continued in a subdued voice, “Kamel came to my office to throw accusations at me, and I let him for your sake.”

“It’s only natural that Kamel should be angry.”

“I’ve come all the way to your home,” Abd el-Barr said with a smile, “and I have apologized.”

“Even if I were to accept your apology,” I shouted, “we cannot live together!”

“But things like this happen all the time in marriages!”

“Our life together is finished.”

Abd el-Barr suddenly got up and came over to me. I stood up and took a few steps away from him.

“Saleha,” he said, “let’s not destroy our marriage.”

“It’s fate.”

“All right. Take a little time to think things over,” he said hoarsely.

I almost felt sorry for him, but I answered him quickly in order to put an end to the matter, “I have decided that I want a divorce.”

His expression changed suddenly, and he started shouting, “Who do you think you are?”

“Please don’t be rude,” I shouted back.

“My mistake,” he shouted even louder, “was in coming to see you. You don’t deserve to be treated with respect.”

“Watch your words!”

The last sentence was spoken by my mother. She had been listening to the conversation through the door and was now standing between us with a look of anger on her face.

“As long as your daughter behaves like that,” he snapped, “there will be no divorce.”

“You’ll divorce her whether you want to or not.”

“I’ll go to court and get a ruling that she has to return to her husband.”

My mother indicated the door and said, “I will not respond to you since you are in my home. Please be so kind as to leave.”

My mother’s tone was so resolute that he got up and left, muttering angrily. I heard his footsteps recede into the distance, then the front door opening and closing. By the time my mother came back, I was beside myself.

“Abd el-Barr just wants to demean me,” I shouted like someone crying for help.

“There is not a man alive who can demean you,” she said as she put her arms around me. “God is great, and he will help you through this.”

When I was called in for questioning, my mind kept running over scenes from movies. Scenes in which investigators could catch an inconsistency in your story, by your nervous look, by a slip of paper you dropped or by a thread on your clothing from the crime scene. I was terrified because I was not a good liar. I went into the room trying to quash my terror. The investigating officer was in his forties and wearing a smart white suit. There was something false and cloying about the way he moved. He treated me condescendingly as he sat slumped in the armchair looking me over.

“Name and position at the Automobile Club?” he asked.

“My name is Kamel Gaafar,” I answered quickly. “I am a law student at the Fuad I University, and I work as a storeroom assistant under Monsieur George Comanus.”

I wanted to make it clear to him that I was not one of the serving staff but had clerical duties and was a university student. I think that the message hit home because he sat up a little and smiled.

“So sorry to disturb you over this, Kamel. But as a law student, you will understand. My instructions are to investigate all those who work in the Club. I will even be questioning Monsieur Comanus.”

He asked me about the hours and nature of my work. He asked whether I had seen anything unusual recently. In spite of his formal smile and the superficial politeness, he fixed me with a searching and suspicious eye as I answered all his questions. I attempted to appear calm and natural.

He lit a cigarette and gave me a friendly smile, saying, “You know, I did the same syllabus at the police academy as you’re doing at the College of Law. What year are you in?”

“Second year.”

“What subjects are you studying?”

I reeled them off.

He listened and then suddenly asked, “How do you suppose someone could take a photograph of His Majesty without anyone noticing?”

“I have no idea.”

“Perhaps you can help with the power of your imagination. We have already found the camera, but the question remains who brought it into the Club and how.”

“I have no idea.”

“Come on, try to come up with a scenario for how someone might have brought the camera in.”

“Neither the staff nor the Club members are subjected to any form of search when they enter the Club. Anyone could bring in a camera.”

“Correct. But how was it set up in the casino?”

“Perhaps he waited until all the staff had gone home and then fixed it to the chandelier.”

“How do you know that it was fixed to the chandelier?” he retorted while looking at me with an almost hostile stare.

I was taken aback but managed to control myself as I answered him, “All the staff know that the camera was discovered fixed to the chandelier.”

He smiled and nodded. I looked at him defiantly. Did he think that he could incriminate me with games like this?

“Once more,” he said in a friendly manner, “please forgive me, but I am just carrying out my orders. Can I ask you to do something for me?”

“Of course.”

He wrote something on a small piece of paper, and as he handed it to me, he said, “Here’s my telephone number. If you come across any information that might help our investigation, would you call me immediately?”

I took the piece of paper and said, “I spend the whole day in the storeroom and don’t really know what happens in the Club. But if I learn anything useful, I will let you know straightaway.”