One sad note of this period of our life was the death of Mohammed's youngest
daughter. After fathering a succession of children that died in infancy, four managed
to survive thanks to improved health facilities and health awareness. One boy, about
fifteen and three girls. The boy was tall, skinny, dark and unattractive. The two elder
girls were plump and plain. The little one, called Leila, was a gift from Heaven. She
was about ten, thin, of ordinary build and of slightly lighter skin color than the other
children. She was pretty, with sparkling eyes and a gay disposition. She was sociable,
always ready for a joke, a laugh and a clever reply. I never failed to tease her
whenever I saw her and she always greeted me with a smile and the expectation of a
good laugh. Anna simply adored her. The children had gone to the village for the
summer with their mother and word came to Mohammed that little Leila climbed a
tree and fell off, hit her head and died.
We were both of us heartbroken. Poor Mohammed left the house and went
upstairs to his terrace room to cry in peace. A few days later, at work, I learnt from
one of his relatives working at our machine shop that Bahita, the mother, took little
Leila to a local midwife to circumcise her and the child was infected and died of
septicemia. I was horrified, revolted and indignant but I was the only one. Not one of
the other relatives thought to blame Bahita or that cruel and barbarous custom. It was
written, it was the will of God. “Rabbena eftakarha.” God remembered her! It is so
sad to think that the life of this adorable child flitted away so needlessly and apart
from a momentary sadness and dismay caused barely a ripple in our lives and was
soon forgotten.
My father died a little less than two years after he left for Greece. Anna was
still living with me. Moni"s villa was finally delivered. A medium sized, elegant
building that offered the nouveau riche the aura of old money. It had been washed,
brushed, polished and stood like a sore thumb in the socialist decadence. I was sure
the bigwigs in the government did not like the show and had they known how to
nationalize brains and talent they would have nationalized Moni's. That was all the
capital he had and was fast acquiring an international renown. Moni moved in the
villa after buying some of the most essential furniture. He wanted to furnish it to his
taste and he figured living inside the house would help him plan his purchases better.
So a new series of delays began together with a new subject of conversation with
Anna. „The Furnishing of the House". Every few weeks I was invited to go and see its
progress and I must admit, Moni's taste coupled with his money made for an
outlandish elegance. Anna was ecstatic. I thought it was very original and smart but
preferred our homely flat.
Father supported his thrice weekly, four-hour sessions of renal dialysis
reasonably well for the first year or so but gradually his constitution began to weaken.
Especially in the last three months, he was constantly in one crisis and out the other.
Two or three times I left Cairo at a moment's notice because his condition was touch
and go but they turned out to be false alarms. Throughout this period in Greece, we
were very close. Closer than we had ever been in the past. After all, I was there for
him. I knew these were his last days and made it a point to spend most of my time
22
with him and mother. I even went to the hospital and chatted with him during the
filtering of his blood. He was always avid for news of the business and his employees.
The foundry's foreman, Saleh, had died recently of a heart attack and he mused
whether he would be next. Not in fear, just a query.
In the last days he started hemorrhaging somewhere inside of him. The doctors
gave him blood transfusions but it was an exercise in futility. They were pouring
blood into him and it was leaking out again. It could not continue. They did not know
the cause or the location of the hemorrhage and opened him up for exploratory
surgery. When he came to, he asked for a newspaper. He was that kind of a man. The
night before he died, mother called me on the telephone in Cairo and asked me to
come. I left early next morning and arrived at Athens airport at about eleven. I called
home and my mother told me father had left us. The ground started swaying and I
nearly fell. I took a cab straight home and just made it to the funeral.
There is a silly little French saying, which goes: Jamais deux sans trois. Alas,
once again it turned out to be true and unlike the deaths of little Leila and my father
this death not only caused ripples in our life but a veritable storm. A few weeks after I
returned from my father's funeral in Greece, I received a phone call at the office early
one Sunday morning, from Roger Saad. He was an acquaintance from school, a year
or so older than I was, and a friend and relative of Moni's. I used to meet him at the
club often and we always exchanged a few friendly words. But we moved in different
worlds. He was the scion of a rich, well-known family and a satellite of the moneyed
crowd in which Moni and Anna were the rising stars.
“Hello Roger, what a pleasant surprise to hear from you.”
“Not so pleasant, I'm afraid, Michael.”
“Why? What's wrong?”
“I have terrible news.”
“What, for Heaven's sake?”
“Moni has had a car accident. He died yesterday on the desert road to
Alexandria. Not far from Cairo.”
“Oh my God. Oh God.”
“Yes. His mother is shattered. She asked me to call you so that you may tell
Anna as gently as possible.”
“Gently or not I don't think it will make a difference. The shock will be
devastating. What happened? He was with Anna last night.”
“Nobody really knows. Before leaving he passed by his mother's house and
since his mother was asleep he left her a note saying he was going to Alexandria for
an appointment early today. There was another young man in his car, also killed. The
police assume that probably something happened to the car. A flat tire, a mechanical
failure, something. Moni got out of the car to have a look. It was a dark night and an
army truck running at a terrific speed just rolled over them. Moni was tossed about
twenty meters away and the other poor soul was crushed, literally crushed inside the
car. The lone army truck driver also died. What a tragedy. They could not get the
body of the passenger out of the car, which had folded up and enclosed him in. They
took the car to the Kasr El Aini hospital and brought a team of oxyacetylene welders
to cut the car up and get him out. He has still not been identified.”
“Oh God. What are we going to do?”
“What can you do, Michael? You just take care of Anna.”
“When is the funeral?”
“There will surely be an autopsy. Perhaps tomorrow. I'll let you know.”
“Call me at home.”
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“Sure. I am so sorry to have given you such awful news.”
“Thank you for calling, Roger. It was not a pleasant task.”
I left the office immediately and headed for home. Anna was still asleep. It
was only eleven o'clock. I did not wake her up. I started moving about the house not
finding peace anywhere. My heart was beating hard, my stomach churning. How
would I face Anna? I called Mohammed and told him the news because he would be
hearing screams very soon.
“It is the will of God,” he said. “May God have mercy on him.”
My feelings were in a state of confusion. They would need calm and the
absence of tensions to untangle. A sense of loss and sincere sadness coupled with
relief that this marriage was over. An overwhelming concern for Anna's well-being,
her state of mind and her future. A realization that the fairytale life we had been
leading ended so very abruptly. Another irony. Just as that peculiar marriage would
have depended on my sexual relations with Anna, I had the feeling that with Moni's
death, our relationship was over. Necessarily, the conditions would alter, separation
seemed inevitable. My God, how would I tell her?
Anna got up an hour later. She came out of my father's room in her pajamas.
Barefoot. She saw me and smiled with a surprised look on her face. She did not move
to kiss me. We avoided shows of tenderness in front of Mohammed.
“Mickey! Why are you not at work?”
“I wasn't feeling well.”
“What's wrong? Why the long face?”
“Here, drink your orange juice. Let us sit in the living room. Mohammed will
prepare your breakfast.”
“You're pale. What's wrong with you?”
I did not answer. I started to but I stuttered and stopped. I moved to the living
room and she followed mystified.
“Michael, what's wrong?”
“I have some bad news.”
“What for Heaven's sake?” Her voice getting louder. “Has something
happened to mother?”
“No. It's Moni. He's had an accident.”
“What happened? Where is he?” Her voice loud and hysterical. Nearly a
scream. “Talk to me, damn it.”
“A car accident on the desert road to Alex. Anna, my love, I am so sorry, he
was killed.”
“Noooooo.” A wail arose from the depths of her soul. She sat on an armchair.
Convulsions shook her and loud mournful sobs. I tried to hug her, to comfort her but
was pushed away. I just stood and looked at her agonized moaning and sobbing with
tears welling in my eyes. I felt utterly helpless. She wailed loudly for a time and then
subsided to a low moan mixed with sobs and loud gasps for air. She was muttering
something all the time and I eventually made out what she was saying. “I want to die,
I want to die, please God, I want to die.” Some time later, she stopped, got up, and
unsteadily, walked to her room. I followed at a discreet distance behind. She went in
and shut the door. I sent Mohammed to the pharmacy for sedatives. I started moving
again from chair to chair, from room to room. Waiting. Unable to do anything else.
Mohammed came back with the medicine. He started setting the table for lunch. At
two, he asked me whether he should serve lunch. I told him to wait a while. I went to
her room. She was lying on the bed. On her side, her eyes open.
“Would you like some lunch?”
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“No thank you.”
“Would you like anything else?”
“Yes. After you have lunch could we go and see him?”
“Oh Anna! I do not even know where he is. Probably at the morgue at Kasr El
Aini. There will be an autopsy.”
“Oh my God! They will cut him up.”
“I think it will probably be just a formality. A committee of forensic doctors
will simply have a look at him. There's no point in cutting him up.”
“Please Michael. I want to see him. I must see him.”
“Okay. But do me a favor. Come and have a bite with me.”
She got up, wearily, like an old woman and we sat at the dining room table. I
served her a little food and salad. I then served myself and we started eating
mechanically, without appetite in tiny mouthfuls. She asked me for the whole story. I
told her all I knew.
“Didn't he tell you he was going to Alex?” I asked Anna.
“He told me he would be leaving early this morning. That's why we did not
stay up too late last night.”
“And did he say he would be taking anyone else with him?”
“No.”
“Have you any idea who this person might be?”
“No idea.”
She dressed quickly after lunch and we went to the Kasr El Aini hospital
complex. For a while, we were bounced like a ping-pong ball from one office to the
next until I decided to proceed in the only way one gets quick results in Egypt. I asked
where the morgue was and we went directly there. I was planning to bribe my way
through but we found Roger there trying to speed up proceedings and to get hold of
Moni's corpse. He kissed Anna and offered his condolences and I told him Anna
wanted to see Moni. He tried to dissuade her telling her he was badly bruised and she
should remember him as she knew him in life, a beautiful, small-sized man. She was
adamant. So we went into the cavernous morgue.
It was an old building with large rooms and a smell of carbolic acid. There
were dozens of tanks of formaldehyde containing corpses for the university school of
medicine. Life was cheap in Egypt. Medical students had all the corpses they needed
to practice on. Two male orderlies agreed to bring us Moni from refrigeration,
contravening regulations. They would be getting the expected tip. He was rolled in on
a stretcher, covered with a dirty sheet. Anna was surprisingly calm. They uncovered
him. He was unclothed, obviously had been cursorily washed and his hair was slicked
back as if with brilliantine. His faultless hairstyle! One side of his face was smashed
up and his neck did not seem to be well positioned with the rest of his body. His arms
and legs gave the same impression. They seemed dislocated. Anna could not take her
eyes off him. She started crying softly in a hanky she had brought along.
“My beautiful Moni,” she said, “What have they done to you? Will human
carelessness and stupidity never cease?” The two orderlies stood staring at her. Roger
took me by the arm and we moved a little farther away.
“They identified the passenger,” he said in a low voice. “He had identification
on him but it was drenched in blood. He is Farid Fahmy, of Lebanese origin and a
wealthy family. Reputedly a homosexual. Please don't ask me any questions about
them. I haven't the faintest. No need to tell Anna.”
Anna came to us after a while in a slow but steady step. She smiled at me
slightly and said, “Thank you, Mickey. We can go.” We moved to the car and on our
25
way home, I asked her,
“Do you feel better now?”
“Yes. I had to see him. I had to be near him one last time. An act of loyalty.
Not for him. He is gone. I touched his face and the icy feel of it, suddenly, brought it
home, confirmed it, that he was gone forever. For myself. It was something my
conscience demanded.”
There was nothing more to say. We drove in silence and at home, she went
directly to her room. A little later, I went in with the sedative. She was awake, lying
on her bed again with eyes open.
“Anna,” I said, “swallow this pill. It will make you relax.”
“I don't need it, Mickey.”
“Please.”
She took the pill and when I opened the door half an hour later, she was
asleep. Roger called to confirm the funeral. He had recovered Moni's body and the
ceremony would take place in the Syrian Orthodox church at Daher at noon the next
day. Anna was still asleep and I had a shower and lay in bed. I did not want to sleep. I
wanted to be on the alert because Anna was an unpredictable person. She seemed to
have calmed down but one was never sure. Despite that, I slept and woke up at nine.
My eyelids had become unbearably heavy and no amount of worry or concern could
keep them apart. I got up and found Anna in the living room nursing a cup of coffee.
Mohammed had just come in. I asked him to prepare some tea and I sat next to Anna.
“How are you feeling, my dear?”
“A little groggy. It's probably the pill. My mind wanders. When I awoke, I
thought I had overslept and should hurry to prepare myself before Moni came. Then,
the terrible realization hit me.”
“They are strange and unpredictable, the little games of fate! One's life
changes from one moment to the next.”
“Mickey, I feel lost.”
“I can imagine, my dear.”
“Completely lost. My life has crumbled in a few seconds. I must have been
waltzing on a tightrope. No real solid basis to it.”
“Don't say that, Anna. It could happen to anybody. Sometimes things happen
that devastate your life. The familiar, happy routine, bang, it's gone.”
“You see, apart from the heartbreak and the loss I feel for Moni, I seem to
have lost my center of gravity. I have been cut loose from my mooring. Like a balloon
in a strong wind, I have no bearings, no coordinates. He was my employer, my friend,
my adviser, my companion in a magic world of glamour where he, that beautiful,
short little man was a luminous presence. People liked him and respected him.
Respected his culture, his intelligence and above all, his talent. I was nothing, he was
everything. I am facing an abyss.”
It was then, I realized what a small part of Anna's life I was. I was just a small
complement. Moni's phallus, so to speak. Once again, not any more his presence, but
his ghost overshadowed me. I just barely managed not to be annoyed with her. I loved
her and even in Moni's death, I found the boundaries of our relationship shifting to his
favor from where I had assumed they were located. In fact, there was hardly any
space left for me now that he was gone.
“Roger phoned me when you were asleep,” I told her. “The funeral is at
twelve, tomorrow. I presume we shall be attending.”
“Of course, Mickey.”
“Also, I don't suppose you shall be returning to work at his Atelier.”
26
“No. I could not possibly.”
“In any case, even if it doesn't close immediately, it will start disintegrating
soon enough. I took the liberty of booking two seats for Athens early after tomorrow.
We shall go there and you can rest for a while. It will be a change for you and you can
take your time deciding what you want to do next. If you want to return to Cairo, you
have your home here. If not, I shall bring you the rest of your belongings. Is that a
reasonable first step?”
She was silent for a while. Her eyes vacant, her mind in the past. Then
emerging from the daydream, she replied, “I suppose so. Thank you, Mickey. You
have been good to me.”
“You have been good to me too. We have been good for each other.”
“Yes, oh yes. All I know now is that it is the end of the fairy tale. Midnight
has struck. Cinderella is back in her rags and ashes and the Prince is dead.”
She started crying, I took her in my arms and we stayed this way for a long
while, until Mohammed brought me my cup of tea.
We left for Athens after the funeral. I returned to Cairo almost immediately to
escape Anna"s oppressive gloom and when I returned two months later, Anna had
recovered from the shock of Moni's death. Well, as much as was possible after such a
wrenching change in her lifestyle.
In Athens, she hardly went out of the house at the beginning. Later, after she
found a job in the public relations department of a five star hotel and started meeting
people and making friends, her social life improved but never got anywhere near
Cairo"s frenzy. She started leading a more normal life. Meeting men and, I suppose,
having affairs. It was strange how her relationship with me ended with Moni's death.
When I first took her to Athens, she was heartbroken. On my subsequent visits, we
reverted to the old camaraderie of the pre-Moni period. I was very discreet and never
made any sort of sexual advances or even insinuations. After all, we were in the same
house with my mother and grandmother. I said to myself, if there is to be a follow up
let it come through her initiative. It never materialized. We were friendly and
companionable but not a stolen kiss or an erotic touch troubled our friendship. The
taboo had been installed between us. The fever had been cured.
27 / 2 / 2008
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