Respected Sir, Wedding Song, the Search by Naguib Mahfouz
The telephone rang. It wasn’t for him. But as he looked toward the phone booth, he saw her. His heart stopped beating and his breathing became heavy. So she’s back. That look again. A conspiracy of desire and mockery. Reheimy and Elham were soon forgotten. He left the lounge and went up to his room on the third floor. Footsteps were approaching. He opened the door. “Welcome back.”
She nodded, smiling.
“We really missed you.”
She laughed quietly and hurried up to the fourth floor. “Alexandria,” he said suddenly, summoning up his courage.
She stopped. “Alexandria?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t understand.”
“If you’ve forgotten, I can’t.”
“You’re mad.”
That sapped his newfound courage. “But aren’t…?”
“Don’t try these old tricks on me,” she interrupted and continued up the stairs.
“Well, anyway, please accept my unbounded admiration!”
She disappeared up the stairs. He leaned on the banister to get his breath and allow the fires of desire to die down. The night of the chase reappeared vividly in his imagination. Aly Seriakous, the porter, was coming down the stairs.
“I think I hear someone calling you,” Saber told him slyly. “Maybe it was Madame.”
“Madame?”
“Mr. Khalil’s wife.”
“No. I don’t think so. It might be the guest in room fifteen. I’ve just seen Madame enter her flat.”
“Ah. Maybe. Does Madame live in the flat?”
“Mr. Khalil’s flat. On the roof.”
“Where was she these past few days?”
“At her mother’s. She goes there every month.”
He saw Khalil coming down the stairs. Hatred and resentment suddenly filled him. Beauty and the beast! He couldn’t bear the idea of staying one minute longer in the hotel. The sun and fresh wind lifted his feelings of depression, anger, and envy. How he wished he had more time to go sightseeing. The advertisement would not be published after tomorrow.
“Anything new?” asked Elham as he walked into her office at the paper.
“Telephone calls and meetings, all to no avail.”
“Patience.”
He watched her fingers skip over the keys of the typewriter. A sudden feeling of sadness came over him in spite of the happiness at seeing her.
Ihsan Tantawi was busy writing an obituary. He remembered the last night in his mother’s life. All his happiness and future were now hanging on a fine thread lost in an enveloping fog. Tantawi finished writing and looked up. “A renewal?” he asked, smiling.
“I’ve seen many people, but not him,” said Saber with despair in his voice.
“Such an advertisement requires patience,” said Tantawi encouragingly.
“But he is supposed to be very well-known.”
“You only know his name. All the rest is hearsay. I’ve lived in many districts over the past thirty years, and I’ve never heard of him.”
“But I trust the person who sent me to look for him.”
“Then there must be a secret which only time will reveal.”
“I’ve got a photograph of him. It was taken thirty years ago.”
“We can put it in the advertisement; it will help.”
He showed him the photograph.
“He certainly looks impressive,” murmured Tantawi.
Saber waited for Tantawi to comment on the resemblance. He didn’t, and proceeded to discuss the costs of the new advertisement, to which Saber reluctantly agreed. His money was dwindling, and dwindling fast. He walked into the cafeteria and sat at Elham’s table, waiting for her. She walked in, saw him, hesitated for a moment, then sat at his table. He ordered lunch for two.
“I’ve seen the photograph,” she said.
“Really?”
“The resemblance is striking.”
“You mean the man?”
She nodded, looking at him searchingly.
“He’s my brother,” he lied.
“Your brother! Why didn’t you say so before?”
He smiled, but did not answer.
“Who is the beautiful woman in the photograph?”
“His late wife.”
“Oh. And, your brother…I mean how…?”
“He disappeared before I was born. It was the usual chain of events. A quarrel, then disappearance. And now thirty years later, my father sent me to look for him.”
“What a strange story. But what makes you think he is a well-known personality?”
“My father told me. Maybe it’s mere supposition. But what strikes me as strange is that Mr. Tantawi didn’t notice the resemblance. Did he mention anything after I left?”
“No. But Tantawi’s head is full of figures and statistics.”
The waiter brought their lunch. They started eating. He stopped and said apologetically, “I’m sorry to be intruding on you like this, but I’m a lonely stranger in a big city.”
She smiled at him. “How do you spend your spare time?”
“Waiting.”
“How boring. But searching doesn’t entail waiting.”
“Waiting is unavoidable.”
“What do you do while waiting?”
“Nothing.”
“Impossible!”
“Now you realize how badly I need a friend,” he said with a pleading look in his eyes. The sympathetic look on her face encouraged him. “You are the friend I need.” She took a sip of her orange juice. “Well, what do you say?” he asked.
“You might be disappointed.”
“Don’t worry about that. In these matters, only the heart can tell.”
“We might meet when you come in to renew the advertisement.”
Laughing, he said, “In that case, you want me to keep renewing the advertisement indefinitely.”
“If you are so keen on finding him.”
“I am. But if the advertisement doesn’t find him, I must.”
She raised her glass; he raised his. “Cheers.”
“I think I’d better tread carefully with you,” she said with a smile.
They drank, exchanging glances and smiles. He wouldn’t have chased her that night long ago had she been the other girl, the seaside girl with the salty taste and carnations in her hair. She was very dear to him. He was in love with her.
You ask who the beautiful girl is in the photograph. You didn’t see her on her last night on earth. Her body wrapped in the white shroud, wasted and worn out. Suddenly he looked up and said, “I’m truly grateful!”
She recognized the trap but did not object. A happy silence reigned. The seeds were sown. The search is long and arduous and requires an occasional rest in the shade.
Five
Sore eyes from looking, searching, scrutinizing the teeming Cairo streets. The autumn clouds sailing from Alexandria are dispersed long before arriving in Cairo. But the memories of his hometown linger on. The hotel lounge has now become a torture chamber since her return. How often you’ve watched her sitting next to the old man, her husband. Her eyes sparkling with promise and desire. How many times did you attempt, but in vain.
Elham was lost in a dark corner of his mind, enveloped in his all-consuming fire of desire for this woman. The lounge atmosphere, cigarettes, coffee, small talk, would occasionally draw him away from his madly passionate thoughts. Maybe these people are also searching for a hope. Lost in thought, he was abruptly aroused by the doorman, Mohamed el-Sawi. “Mr. Saber…telephone.”
At last! Was it?
“Hello?”
“Are you the person mentioned in the advertisement?”
Breathlessly, he answered, “Yes, who’s calling? Sayed Sayed el-Reheimy?”
“Yes.”
“Is it your photograph?”
“Yes.”
He was finding it increasingly difficult to breathe. “Where can I meet you?” he almost whispered.
“Why are you looking for me?”
“Let’s wait until we meet.”
“Just give me an idea.”
“I can’t over the telephone. There’s no harm in waiting till we meet.”
“Can you at least tell me who you are?”
“My name is in the advertisement.”
“What do you do?”
“Nothing; I’ve got private means.”
“Why do you want me?”
“I’ll tell you when we meet, anytime, at your convenience.”
A brief silence at the other end. “Come now. Villa fourteen, Telbana Street in Shubra.”
No one in the hotel had heard of the street. “Go to Shubra and inquire,” suggested Mohamed el-Sawi.
He went to Shubra. No Telbana Street. It didn’t exist. It never had. Perhaps he had heard wrong. Perhaps he was being fooled. The woman, sitting next to her husband, added to his dark mood, driving him almost to a bloodthirsty passion.
Someone had rung several times in his absence. Hope surged again.
“Were you successful?” asked Mr. Khalil.
“Almost,” he replied, trying to sound cheerful. He walked to the lounge, glancing quickly at the woman. The lights had just been switched on, adding a gloomy touch to the atmosphere, which lent itself to his mood. The telephone rang.
“Hello?”
“Saber? I waited all day,” the voice said accusingly.
“I didn’t find the street!”
“Did you really look for it?”
“All day! Telbana, number fourteen.”
“What an ass you are.” A wicked laugh, then the line went dead. The bastard! Back where I started, without hope.
He left the hotel and walked into a nearby restaurant, ordered a brandy and a fish dinner. A useless day. Might as well end it on a full stomach. He had several drinks, ignoring the cost. Just like the old days. Days of wine and roses, literally, you might say. But this city has nothing but heartache and despair to offer. Every passing hour brings nearer a frightening end. What comes after waiting and searching in the dark?
He would be the laughingstock of Alexandria. His fists, the only language he used, would now be turned against him. What did he have to look forward to? A life of crime, and not hope, and inevitably punishment. The woman crept back into his thoughts; the raging fire, and Elham, the gentle breeze. But of what use was all this, before he found his father? He left the restaurant and walked through the arcaded street. Passion was the only emotion driving him after his day’s failure. A mad passion, just like the night of the chase. He remembered his mother. Smoking her narghile and ruling the desires of men. Beware how you spend, my son. Poverty is the real enemy. Love many, but never be dominated by one. Love, money, nightclubs, pleasure, women. But where is Sayed Sayed el-Reheimy?
Reheimy!…A cry in the wilderness. The brandy stimulated his imagination. That woman dominated his thoughts momentarily. He conjured up images of wild seduction. He returned to the hotel. It was past midnight, and everyone had retired. He lit a cigarette in his ancient room. More thoughts of the woman. Then sleep. He was awakened by a sound. Opening his eyes in the dark, he heard a gentle tapping on his door. He sat up unbelievingly. Could it be! The tapping again. He got out of bed and slowly opened the door. It was barely open when a figure rushed in, closing it again quickly.
“You.”
She looked around her as though trying to recognize the surroundings. “Where am I…? I’m sorry, I seem…” She gathered her dressing gown around her, covering her almost visible breasts. She was smiling. He pulled her toward him savagely, with all the fury and frustration that had been building up in him. I have been waiting a hundred years…
He pulled her toward the bed and turned the lights off. “I don’t even know your name.”
“Karima.”*
“Very…” he murmured.
The only sounds were those of two creatures locked in passion, longing, and lust. Love in the dark, as he’d always known it. The dream was being realized in a whirlpool of passion, occasionally, but only imperceptibly, cooled by disbelief. The smell of the sea breeze once again. Memories rushing in, but being pushed into the background by passion and lust. The roar of the sea accompanying their violent lovemaking. Deep breathing, sighs, then calm reigns.
“Light me a cigarette, please.”
“I didn’t think you smoked.”
“Only occasionally.”
The match lit up her naked body, but she quickly blew it out. The smell of phosphorus blended with that of love.
“Why have you fought me all these days?”
“I never fight. I do nothing.”
“I expressed my feelings about you from the very first.”
She laughed softly and said, “When I saw you ten days ago I said to myself, this is it.”
Triumphantly he cried out, “Alexandria?”
“No, no. I don’t mean that. I said, this is the man I’ve been waiting for.”
“What about Alexandria?”
“What about it?”
“Really? Come off it!”
“Why should I lie to you?”
“Strange that there could be two of you. Identical.”
“Let’s not waste time.”
“How did you manage to come to my room?”
“He took his sleeping pills. All his troubles and worries converge on him in the evening.”
“You have disappointed me. I told myself if you were the girl from Alexandria, then it was a good omen for my search.”
“You mean your father?”
“Yes.”
“What’s your real story?”
“I always thought he was dead. Then I was told otherwise. That’s all there is to my story.”
“Maybe you’re looking for money?”
“That doesn’t matter now. Promise me you’ll come here every night.”
“Whenever I can.”
He kissed her in a passionate embrace, which inevitably led to more lovemaking.
“Whenever I feel like it,” she said breathlessly when they had spent themselves.
He lay on her breast, pleasantly exhausted. “Don’t deny Alexandria.”
“You are obsessed by an image. Take care that your search is not just a mere fantasy.”
“I wish it were. Then I could rest,” he said sadly.
“You really do have worries. More than I thought.”
“Yes. But now my main concern is to stay here as long as possible.”
“What’s to stop you?”
He thought for a while, then said, “If my money runs out before I find my father, I’ll have to go back to Alexandria.”
“And when would you return?”
“I must look for a job.”
She caressed his hand. “No,” she said gently but firmly. He suddenly become aware of the trend the conversation was taking. She asked, “Why don’t you look for a job here?”
“Impossible!”
“You’re very mysterious. But let me tell you that money is not a problem!”
His heart missed a beat. “You must be a millionairess.”
“The hotel, the money, they’re all in my name.”
“And your husband? Is he merely an employee?”
“No. As long as he’s alive, he runs the show.”
“But that doesn’t concern me!” He felt himself blushing at the sly innuendo.
“Well, let’s hope you find your father. That is a much better solution.”
“Yes, that’s very important. But from now on my main concern will be to wait for you.” He tried to embrace her, but she slipped out of bed.
“Dawn is breaking. I’ve got to go.”
He returned to his bed. The rumpled sheets and the memory of her embrace were evidence that it had all happened.
He felt that now he could do without his father. The telephone rang.
“Hello?”
A serious voice said, “Is this Saber Sayed of the advertisement?”
“Yes, yes.”
<
“I must meet you.”
“I am waiting for you at the Votre Coin café near the newspaper.”
“I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
Looking around the café, he saw a man sitting at the table usually occupied by Elham. Without a doubt, it was he. He hadn’t changed in thirty years. Some white hairs and a few lines on his face. Nothing more. He moved toward him, and a new fear gripped him.
The man felt him approach and stood up. “Mr. Saber?”
“Yes. And you are the man in the photograph!”
The man sat down. “You are a very young man; I have a feeling that I’ve seen you somewhere before. Where? I wonder.”
“I’m from Alexandria and am staying at the Cairo Hotel. All day I walk the streets. I’ve come here several times, at this very table.”
“Maybe I saw you on one of the streets. I, too, go to Alexandria occasionally. I also come here from time to time.”
“When did you see the advertisement?”
“The very first day.”
“Really! Well, why didn’t you contact me?”
“Your advertisement indicated that you had failed to find me by other means. But I’m well-known, and it’s not difficult to find me. I decided to contact you when I noticed your persistent advertising.”
“But that’s very strange. No one I met had ever heard of you.”
“Never mind about that now. Tell me what it is you want.”
“I want you! But don’t you notice anything?” Saber looked intently into the man’s face, hoping to find a glimmer of recognition.
There was no sign of it on the man’s face. “Look at my face,” he said, almost shouting.
“What’s wrong with it?” asked the man.
Suddenly a soft voice called out, “Saber!”
He turned to find Elham. He got up to introduce her to his father, when suddenly, to his surprise, the man rose and said, “Elham. How are you?”
To his utter amazement the girl kissed the man’s forehead. “You know him!”
The man looked astonished. “When did you meet my daughter?”