Naguib Mahfouz: The day the leader was killed

There were a great many rumors going around in Randa’s absence. I heard all sorts of amazing things. It was obvious that he had failed, as often happens with men who get married late in life. No, no, he’s queer. Look at the way he gesticulates with his hands. No, but the problem is her frigidity: apparent beauty is not everything. There are also rumors that he’s having an affair with his sister. I listened and was hurt. I love you, Randa, as much as I used to, if not more. It hurts me to see you defeated so. My heart goes out to you in your wounded pride.

I thought I might get closer to the truth by resorting to Anwar Allam.

“Thanks!” he muttered sarcastically when I expressed my regret.

“I’m sorry for both of you,” I said as soon as I felt that he was doubtingmy sincerity.

“There’s nothing that warrants regret,” he said coldly. With not a word more, he returned to the paperwork on his desk.

Gulstan Hanem invited me over. I accepted without hesitation, almost sure that she would tell me the truth. She was all bedecked like a bride.

“You only visit me when I invite you?” she said reprimandingly.

“I don’t want to cause you any embarrassment.”

“A nonsensical excuse,and you’re the first to know that.”

She offered me ice cream filled with nuts.

“It just occurred to me,” she then said.

I looked at her with interest, and she continued:

“My brother now seems far too busy for me, so how about yourhandling my affairs?”

The suggestion seemed like a bottomless pit opening up beneath me.

“This may upset him,” I said.

“It’s his idea!”

“Give me time to think about it, for I have been toying with the idea of enrolling for a master’s degree,” I said, embarrassed.

“The work is simple but requires someone honest.”

“Just give me a little while to think about it.”

She suddenly offered to reveal an important aspect of her past.

“My marriage has always made me the object of greed. Actually, it was my father who married me off to a man who was thirty years my senior. In spite of that, I continued to lead an impeccably honest and respectable life. My reputation has remained as good as gold.”

“You are the epitome of respect,” I said in a tone of despair which passed her unawares. “Anwar Bey is also respectable, yet see how unlucky he is,” I added cunningly.

“Are you feeling sorry for him or for his wife?” she asked, looking at me suspiciously.

“What’s done cannot be undone!” I said defiantly.

“Really?!”

“That’s the truth, plain and simple.”

“Then forget about other people’s problems and let’s concentrate on ours!”

I crouched in a corner, not knowing what to say. Then, with a bluntness that reminded me of her brother, she added:

“You understand and so do I. I’ve a right to seek my own happiness as tong as my dignity remains untouched,” she added somewhat excitedly.

Then, in order to break that unbearable silence, I said, “I respect so sound a logic.”

“You won’t have any regrets. And I’ll be waiting,” she said sweetly.

Six pairs of eyes whirling in a cesspool of confusion: my eyes in my mother’s eyes, my eyes in my father’s, and my mother’s in my father’s — all drawing away from each other furtively. My mother was shocked to see me walk in at that time of night. Her face grew pale, reflecting the color of my own face. My father was asleep, covered with a sheet.

“Randa, what happened?” she whispered.

We stood in the center of the hall ,and all my pent-up emotions suddenly gushed out at one go:

“I’m getting a divorce!”

I told her the whole story in detail. My father was told about it in bits and pieces after breakfast.

“We can’t possibly see things eye to eye,” I told him.

My mother then started telling him about the guests and the drinking. His face was flushed with anger.

“Take it easy on your health,” I said.

“I now understand everything. If only I had the strength, I would’ve shown him.”

“How come you didn’t see through him?”

“Everyone has secrets which he conceals. I shan’t deny that I was fooled.”

“We’d better consult a lawyer.”

“That’s the best way to spread the scandal. Actually, he’s conceded to all my rights without the least objection,” I said.

“This quick divorce may tempt evil tongues to gossip about you.”

“I can take that, and pretty soon it will all be forgotten.”

Although none of my colleagues said anything, I could sense that the place was fraught with questions, particularly on Elwan’s part. I was exceedingly angry with him.

“I’m very unhappy,” he whispered one day when we were alone.

“Why?” I inquired coldly.

“Maybe it’s a feeling of guilt.”

“You’ve nothing to do with what happened.”

“I still love you,” he said, averting his eyes from me.

“I don’t want to hear this word, please!” I said sharply.

As time went by, everything seemed to aggravate me, even my own anger. I began to feel as sorry for him as I was for myself. I even began to wonder how things were going between him and Gulstan. Would he marry her one day? What’s wrong with that? The woman may be better than her brother. There didn’t seem to be anything wrong with her. And she obviously wants him. Damn it, she loves him! Who would’ve thought that one day we would have parted? Who would’ve thought that our big hopes would have frittered away like a handful of dust? One day, as we were getting ready to leave, he whispered:

“I’m dying to have a few words with you.”

My immense desire to talk to him made me as silent as the grave. So we went to the Pyramids Resthouse, where we had some sandwiches with our tea, and kept staring at each other foolishly.

“What are your plans?” he asked.

“I’m living without plans or dreams, which gives me peace of mind,” I said quite simply.

“Me too, but Grandpa says that suddenly — ”

I interrupted him. “Forget about your grandfather and his quotable quotes. They’re of no use to us. When will you marry Gulstan?”

“Who said that?” he inquired, glowering.

“Just a question.”

“I don’t sell myself.”

“You therefore think I sold myself?”

“No, it’s a different matter. It’s not unusual for a girl to marry a man older than herself, hut the opposite…“ he replied hurriedly.

He scrutinized me carefully.

“Why did your marriage break up?” he then asked. I had a genuine desire to confess the truth to him, to

himin particular, rather than to anyone else.

“Promise not to whisper a word to a single soul?” On my word of honor.”

So I let out all the feelings bottled up within me. “The bastard!” he suddenly cried out. “The time for anger is over. But please don’t forget

yourpromise.”

“It’s beyond one’s wildest imagination.” “More amazing things have been heard though.”

I dream of my father, my mother, and my sister Mahasin. I even once beheld them in a parachute floating above my head. Has perchance the time to depart drawn close? Is it time that the old man spared the country the cost of his pension? I’m in good health in spite of Sulayman Mubarak’s evil eye! Health is ailment enough. So said the Messenger of God. O Lord! Thy worshipper is waiting. At any moment he expects to hear the knell of parting day, and he shall welcome the caller with all due respect. O Lord, may everything end well! Protect me from pain and infirmity. I thank Thee for a long and happy life. Suffice it that I have not harmed a single soul in the world of ours replete with harm. I have spent my old days strolling amid Thy words, Thy prophets, and Thy saints. Earlier I braved the vicissitudes of Thy world. Worship is now my form of exercise, songs my entertainment, and lawful food my enjoyment. The feast comes along adorned with autumnal dewdrops. White clouds gather over the somber River Nile and the towering evergreen trees. These kinds of days are few and far between in the life of this shattered family. Fawwaz relaxes in his gallabiya,Hanaa combs her white hair whilst Elwan is busy shaving, getting ready to go out.