Albert Cossery - The Jokers

Taher was growing confused, even as the full horror of the man’s honeyed words dawned on him. That Heykal saw him as a frivolous man was the greatest conceivable insult to his fighter’s pride. He averted his face as if to escape this badge of shame, and at last to understand how useless it was to argue with a shadow. He couldn’t wait to get back to the world of iniquities that awaited him outside; there, at least, he might be defeated, but he was never unhappy.

Heykal lifted his glass of tepid rose water from the table and addressed his guest:

“To your health, Taher effendi!”

Taher appeared not to understand. Mechanically, he picked up his own glass, meaning to lift it to his lips, hesitated, then abruptly threw it on the floor. It smashed and he looked proud, almost arrogant — his dignity had been restored.

Karim was too stunned to react. He remained in his chair, waiting to see what Heykal would do. But Heykal was impassive, as if indifferent to his visitor’s scandalous provocation. His face bore a look of indulgence. He even seemed to regard Taher with a certain respect.

Having heard the noise, Siri entered the room and, without a word, began to pick up the broken glass. Nobody spoke; they seemed to be waiting for Siri to finish cleaning up. When he finally left, Taher rose. For a moment he looked at Heykal. He gave a slight nod and slowly made his way to the door.

Heykal rose from the sofa and followed. For a few seconds, they hesitated at the door. Heykal said:

“The rose water was not poisoned, Taher effendi! It was offered in friendship.”

Taher didn’t respond. Suddenly Heykal grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him close.

“Taher, my brother, you are brave, but you are lost. It’s too bad!”

“Lost to whom?” asked Taher in a voice like a stifled cry.

“Lost to me, to me alone,” said Heykal. “Now go. And may peace be with you.”

Then he turned to Karim, who looked on, speechless.

The little girl ate her ice cream while peering over it at Heykal; there was nothing coy about her look, which was somehow arch, timid, and discreet in a self-consciously feminine way. She sucked the spoon slowly — carefully attending to it with a kind of blissful gluttony. Heykal was pretending not to see; his love of seduction drove him to feign indifference even with a child. This one must be about eight years old; a big green ribbon was tied around the single braid that hung down her back. She was extremely beautiful, but not with the detestable beauty of the rich, well-fed children that Heykal loathed on first sight. Her features were refined and there was a profound sadness in her eyes; already the world had taken its toll. What had piqued Heykal’s interest had been her childish melancholy, verging on despair. She was accompanied by her mother, a nagging battle-ax with foolishness written on her face, steeped in social status and exhibiting heavy gold bracelets on her arms. When she addressed her daughter, Heykal thought he saw the girl shrink up, as if ashamed to be associated with the ignoble creature seated across from her. Apparently the mother suspected her antagonism; her voice bore traces of that special hatred parents feel for rebellious children. Unconsciously she resented the girl for belonging to a different breed. This mother — Heykal would have liked to kill her, to see her disappear through a trapdoor. Horrible person! He suffered for this little girl and, given her complicitous look, he began to love her.

Customers were few in the luxurious tearoom, located in an elegant neighborhood, where Soad had asked to meet. There was the little girl and her mother, and apart from that just two other tables occupied by ladies gorging themselves on cake and blabbing quietly to each other. Heykal was nauseated by the women’s voraciousness. He drank a mouthful of tea to keep from throwing up and resumed his silent dialogue with the young girl. He could tell that he intrigued her, that she felt a strange link uniting them. Inside he trembled to think that he had become the object of her childish imagination. What could she be thinking? Suddenly he’d had enough of feigned indifference; changing tactics, he stared straight at her. Quickly she lowered her eyes and a blush rose to her cheeks. Heykal relaxed. Then he had a crazy notion and felt a thrill of action: he’d take the girl by the hand and, right in front of her mother’s horrified eyes, they’d walk out. He was sure that she would do it.

The girl’s eyes grew even sadder; they looked misty with tears. Did she suspect that he wanted to save her, to tear her away from her monstrous mother? She seemed to be waiting for a sign from Heykal to get up and follow him. But he knew it was all a fantasy. He’d never give in to the wild desire that took hold of him whenever he saw a child of his own kind in the company of unworthy parents. He smiled regretfully at the little girl. And — extraordinary thing — she seemed to understand, for she bowed her head slightly, looking sweeter yet. Heykal’s heart fluttered, and he closed his eyes to savor her innocence and her divine understanding.

Suddenly Soad was standing in front of him. Heykal didn’t recognize her right away; she’d changed. She was wearing her hair in a high bun; her eyes were blackened with kohl and she’d put on lipstick. She carried herself like a lady, and there was an unexpected hardness about her features — quite a disguise. Heykal noticed something even more surprising: the girl was wearing expensive earrings with large precious stones. He didn’t comment, as she clearly expected him to do.

She sat across from him and, for a moment, she staged a grotesque scene, like someone in a silly mask making wild faces in order to be recognized. But Heykal maintained a detached, almost cold attitude; he seemed altogether unaware of her transformation. Vexed by this lack of curiosity, she glanced around in the hopes of exciting some public admiration, only to be disappointed by the lack of customers; she turned back to the young man. She could no longer resist asking:

“How do I look?”

“Superb!” Heykal responded. “You remind me of my grandmother!”

She pouted like a sulky little girl, a look that didn’t suit her new brand of beauty at all — she could tell right away from Heykal’s icy glance. She had just voluntarily crossed the border that separated her from childhood; from now on, she would no longer be able to move him. She was a woman now, and she knew how well he was defended against the ploys and the duplicity of her sex.

She stopped pouting and said in the tone of a poised and very confident young woman:

“Be nice to me. I have some fantastic news for you.”

“Tell me. I’m listening.”

“It happened today. The governor came to see my father, and they had a terrible fight. I heard everything. The governor still can’t believe that my father has nothing to do with that business about the statue; he blames him for the situation.”

“He has good reason to be furious,” said Heykal. “You can’t hold that against him.”

“He has an even better reason to be furious — though you don’t know it: the governor has at most a week left. The prime minister summoned him and demanded his resignation. Happy?”

Heykal pondered the news. He was surprised that he didn’t really feel any joy. It was more like a sense of emptiness now that the governor was gone — as if someone had taken away his toy, a special toy that only he knew how to play with and only he could really enjoy. For a while the governor had been the bottomless source of his every earthly delight. His salvation! He was the sap that made Heykal’s critical spirit grow and thrive. Heykal dreaded that he would be replaced by some mid-level bureaucrat, a petty tyrant without any aspirations, lacking even the absurd fantasies of his predecessor; the banality of tyrants was even more disheartening than their crimes. A period of mediocrity and boredom — that’s where things were headed — one lousy choice among the various candidates for governor and it would all be over. Heykal groaned inwardly to think that his future pastimes hung by a thread of chance. But there it was.