Naguib Mahfouz - The Mirage

My agony was made all the worse by the fact that I’d begun seeing her in the afternoons as well as in the mornings, since I’d leave home in the late afternoon the way many other employees liked to do without objection from my mother, who could no longer protest against my doing so. I would rush to my old tram stop across from her house, then stand there with longing in my eyes, waiting to see whether my “sunshine” would emerge over the horizon. Sometimes I’d see the mother, the father, the brother, or the sister, and other times I would see her in a simple but elegant house dress that would send tremors through me.

I could no longer see any hope for my life in anything but the prospect of an intimate companion. So I fell completely in love with her. I was possessed by a genuine, fervent desire for the happiness which, as far as I could see, would only be realized if I could lose myself in her, and she in me. Even so, I wasn’t unaware of the obstacles. (Indeed, had it ever been my wont to do anything but make too much of the obstacles in my path?) I hadn’t forgotten, for example, that I was still in the beginning of my career and that my salary was only seven and a half pounds a month. Then, to my dismay, I noticed that there were two other men who stood with us at the tram stop in the morning and who had a habit of regarding the girl’s face with marked attention. One of them, whom I would sometimes see coming out of the same building in which the girl lived, was around forty years old and had a dignified, serious look about him. He also had the air of a distinguished employee. As for the other, he was around thirty years old, rather obese, but well-dressed and prestigious looking, and his gestures and way of looking at others gave him an air of smugness and self-satisfaction. I was surprised to find them looking at her in this way. There was no reason for surprise, of course, but I had supposed — and what a laughable supposition it was! — that I was the first person ever to have discovered this treasure. Indignant and annoyed, I found the worm of jealousy writhing in the depths of my heart. She never looked to the right or to the left. Yet I wondered: Is she really as ignorant of them as she is of me? Especially of the neighbor who lived in her building? My heart shrank in alarm and despair, and I glared at her angrily as though she were responsible for people’s interest in her.

Meanwhile, my life followed its familiar rhythm, divided between a loathsome job and a peculiar, uncertain love.

At that time our household would have been considered a happy one, since the hearts of those who dwelled there had no reason to fear. After all, its aging patriarch had ceased his fretting, and my mother was content with the lot that had been apportioned to me and to her.

One day, though, my grandfather said to me derisively, “Have some shame, man, and buy yourself your own bed! Do you plan to go on sleeping in your mother’s arms forever?”

And in fact, I did buy myself a bed. However, I set it up in the same room — the room in which I’d come into the world — and which went on accommodating the two of us together.

It was a historic morning in my life when her glance fell upon me and our eyes met as she came toward the tram stop. My limbs trembled, and as I struggled with my shyness I wondered: Doesn’t she remember the young man she saw on the day when she answered my spirit’s invitation? I was intoxicated by an excitement that even the arrival of my two challengers couldn’t dampen. The tram carried us all as far as the ministry stop. I got off and rushed to the sidewalk, then glanced back at the ladies’ car. She was sitting in the last row and facing my direction, and our eyes met once again. I lowered my gaze shyly, but my heart was in bliss. As I walked briskly along, I mumbled to myself: I’ve been exposed!

That afternoon as I sat in my room not far from my mother, I recalled the happiness I’d known earlier in the day. Stealing a strange glance at her, I thought to myself: Ah, if she only knew my thoughts! Hadn’t past experience taught me that this sort of happiness on my part was among the things she viewed as unforgivable sin? This was a fact I’d never lost sight of. Even so, it seemed at that moment to be strange and unfamiliar, as though I were discovering it for the first time. I looked over at her regal, lovely face in protest and indignation, saying to myself furiously: It would probably be easier for her to hear that some harm had come to me than to discover that I’m in love! I may have been exaggerating, but her past comportment had robbed me of the ability to look at the bright, pleasant side of life without a heavy dose of fear and shame where she was concerned. So, weary of having to conceal my happiness in her presence, I left the house with a sigh of relief, then hurried as usual to the old tram stop. Looking ahead of me, I caught sight of the two sisters behind the windowpane, and I approached with a feeling of elation. With uncertain steps, I slipped into the crowd of people standing at the tram stop, wishing with all my heart that I didn’t have to leave until night had drawn its curtains. The weather was extremely cold, and it pleased me to be enduring the harshness of the elements in return for one glance from her eyes. I was certain that my height and my black coat would be sufficient to remind her who I was. Lifting my gaze fearfully, I saw her looking my way, although, given the distance that separated us, I wasn’t able to determine exactly what she was looking at. Nevertheless, a rush of delight flowed through my limbs. Although I wished it could be otherwise, the tram arrived, and bashfulness left me no choice but to get on.

My life no longer had any goal but the tram stop and the girl who lived next to it. All I could do was steal timid glances at her, then lower my gaze quickly if the eyes I’d come to love more than life itself happened to look back at me. My girl was no longer ignorant of me as she had been for the four months previous. On the contrary, she knew now that there was a young man who looked out for her wherever she went and that he did this deliberately and patiently, albeit without making a move. In fact, good fortune smiled on me so generously that I began winning a look from her nearly every day, though it seemed to be mere chance that brought it about. In other words, it would be a passing glance cast at the place as a whole and which happened to include me as part of the larger picture. Beyond this, she maintained her usual modesty and decorum. Indeed, she was no longer ignorant of me however much she happened to ignore me, and it was a glorious victory — considering my powerlessness — for her to be aware of my existence after that long, silent struggle. So I persisted in my unwearying surveillance as though I were waiting for the next step to come from her, or from the Lord of heaven and earth.

Those were sweet, happy days, even if they did happen to be devoid of hope. I lived them with a feeling of profound contentment and with dreams that couldn’t be contained by mere imagination. They wafted through my heart in purity and holiness, and I was careful to keep them locked securely out of my nightly retreat into seclusion and fiendish pleasure.

* * *

After some time it became apparent to me that, despite my caution and attempts at concealment, my well-kept secret was giving itself away. I don’t know how it happened. It may simply be that in moments of ardor I would forget myself, as a result of which my eye would fall on something I should have been careful not to look at. To my surprise, one day I found my two “rivals” looking at me suspiciously, as though they realized that a new competitor had appeared on the scene. On another day, as I stood in my usual place at the tram stop, the servant girl who worked in my beloved’s house passed by me and, as she did so, cast me a meaningful glance that made my heart melt on the spot. Joyfully and fearfully I wondered: Do you suppose my secret has reached the household itself? Then, feeling mortified, I muttered to myself, “Oh well, my secret’s out now, and there’s nothing I can do about it.” One time I saw the little sister at the window as I approached the tram stop in the afternoon. When she glimpsed me, she turned and looked behind her as though she were talking to someone I couldn’t see. Then the mother appeared behind the windowpane and cast me a scrutinizing glance. Lord! I felt like a criminal who’d been caught red-handed! In any case, there was no doubt that the household recognized me now, and in the days that followed this certainty was confirmed. Whenever any of them happened to look at me — with the exception of “my lady,” of course — they would scrutinize me with intense interest. As for me, I became more and more unsettled.