Two years went by. Paul returned to Cairo to enter his father‟s business.
Ismini married a Greek diplomat she met in her final year in London and left Egypt to live the nomadic life that her husband‟s profession required. Paul‟s correspondence with Sonia had ceased completely and a year after his return his mother, who kept a regular correspondence of a half dozen letters a year with Mrs. Khachadourian, announced that Sonia had recently married an Armenian friend of the family. Paul was stunned and a sense of loss suffused his being. He had expected to hear this 21
sooner or later but when it came it was like a punch in his stomach. He wrote to congratulate her in an emotional and generous letter and, surprisingly, a regular, friendly and intimate correspondence sprang up between them. They exchanged news, views and ideas. It was, he wrote to her, something like the early morning ten-minute street encounters before the school bus came, an eternity ago. She was amused. He wrote he was in his father‟s business. Originally, he did not wish to return to Cairo but his father insisted as he was getting old and had no one to help him. He was trying to make a life in Cairo. Life was easy but dull. Well, Sonia knew all about it. The only reasonable option to make life bearable was to get married and raise a family.
Sonia noted the contrast. She wrote to him that although she was already married she was not quite ready to raise one. She had graduated in her B.A. with honors and entered graduate school. She intended to pursue an academic career and at the moment was reluctant to have children. It was a point of friction with her husband.
He was about ten years older than she was and wealthy and her parents energetically promoted the marriage. She had not formed any romantic attachments until that time and let herself be persuaded to marry Haik. She was honest enough to admit that his wealth seduced her as much as his charm. Well, she was happy enough. No financial problems just some objectionable traits in his character. For one, he was extremely jealous. He wanted her to stop her studies because he did not like her mingling with all the young people at university. There was the subtle and furtive daily interrogation about the people she came across and worked with. Did he not understand, she asked Paul, that this constant picketing had an opposite effect? That even if she had no intention of being unfaithful, this attitude would push her to think about it? And in a letter she asked a question that sent his heart thumping. Aren‟t we lucky, she wrote, to have lived such a passionate love affair? To have loved so selflessly and intensely?
Inevitably Paul drew some tentative conclusions from these letters.
Haik Papazian was the largest importer and wholesaler of French perfumes in Canada. He was, however, facing strong competition and incursions by rival businessmen in the well-known brands he represented. He traveled often to Paris but at one point he considered transferring his headquarters to Paris to be in close and constant touch with the various manufacturers. Distribution was the easy part of the game; the important thing was to safeguard his sources of supply. Sonia objected to the move as it would perturb her university studies and future career and he suggested that she should go to Paris, to the Sorbonne, to see if she could transfer and continue her studies there. She would have to brush up her French but a few months of intensive study would suffice. Sonia wrote to Paul about her forthcoming trip and Paul asked if she would like him to join her there for a few days since she would be alone. Her answer was enthusiastic. She said it would be a lovely opportunity to see each other again.
He booked at the luxurious Paris hotel where she was staying though he could hardly afford it. He arrived from the airport at noon and felt feverish as he waited for her in his room. She called him up at three just as she came in and asked for his room number at the reception. Her voice was a time machine removing him from the present, transferring him five years in the past, taking his breath away. He took the elevator to the lobby and when he saw her he did not quite know how to behave. They smiled, shook hands and kissed on the cheeks and then, as if realizing how ridiculous that greeting was and how unrepresentative of their feelings, they embraced tightly for a long time. They drew apart and looked at each other. Five, six years had gone by since they parted. Five years in their early twenties do not make much difference except perhaps provide a degree of maturity both physical and intellectual. And yet 22
our lovers scrutinized one another and exchanged sincere compliments on each other‟s looks. Sonia was blooming, attractive and elegant and Paul neatly dressed, as good looking as ever and in trim shape thanks to regular sporting exertions at the club.
Neither had lunched and they decided to skip the hotel restaurant and go to a nearby bistro. Again Paul was unsure how to behave. He did not know how much familiarity a married Sonia would tolerate and he walked next to her on the street. His heart was overflowing with love. It was all coming back. Of course, it was always there, dormant, deep in his soul but now it was gushing out. She snuggled close to him and passed her arm around his.
“I won't eat you,” she said and smiled.
He smiled too.
“I wish you would,” he told her. “I am quite ripe for that.”
“Sweet and tasty?” she teased.
“I don‟t know. You‟ll have to try me out.”
They entered the bistro and ordered food and wine and while waiting they small-talked looking deeply and searchingly at each other‟s eyes. So many secret things left unsaid in their detailed and intimate correspondence.
“So wonderful to see you, Paulie. I write to Ismini now and then and she promptly replies. Do you miss her?”
“Of course I do. We had become very close during our two years in London. I almost felt betrayed when she got married. She seems to be happy. My God Sonia, I can hardly believe we are sitting again together at a restaurant having lunch.
Remember our ice cream sodas in Lappas and Groppi? One sip, talk, talk, talk, another sip, talk, talk, talk and so on for hours?”
“Yes. Oh yes. For me, Egypt is one big bundle of nostalgia. I think of Cairo and our school with vast tenderness and yet I would not want to return to live there again. It is the past. It is over. I just want its memories, not the real thing. How is Cairo these days?”
“Expanding unbelievably fast, modernizing in some aspects, regressing in others, getting more and more crowded, polluted and dirty.”
“Are you happy, there?”
“Not really. I try to make the best of it and to work out my frustrations at the club. Swimming, squash, tennis. I meet some school friends there and we have a drink at the bar now and then.”
“No girls?”
“Nothing serious. You are still my girl.”
She smiled wistfully.
“Yes I am. Your sweetheart living two continents away and married to someone else.”
“It does not matter. You are still my love. Always shall be.” She reached across the table and stroked his hand.
“This is life. I suppose it is only the very strong and ruthless that master it.
And not for trivial things like love. Power and money are the great aphrodisiacs. Us others are blown left and right by circumstance.”
“Are you happy, Sonia?”
“In some ways. If being very comfortable and without serious worries is happiness, then, I am happy. I have my studies which I love and keep me busy, a lovely house which I do not have to upkeep because we have a maid and I have my parents in close proximity. As I have written to you many times, I did not marry for love. I love Haik but I was never in love with him. He is very generous and loves me 23
but this extreme jealousy he exhibits has become something of a nightmare. What did you do, whom did you see, what did he say….on and on. It drives me mad. He wants to know everything about me, past, present and future.”
“I don‟t blame him. So do I,” said Paul.
She laughed and held his hand again.
“Morally he is decades behind the times. Never touched me before marriage.
Just before we got married he asked me if I was a virgin. I told him that that was an uncivilized question but so as not to get a shock later on, the answer is no. He asked me how I lost my virginity and I was so annoyed I was extremely vulgar. I said, „just like most women, when a male penis penetrated me.‟ I did not care if he turned round and left. He went all crimson but he pursued his questioning. „I mean when and where,‟ he said, „under what circumstances.‟ „Listen, Haik,‟ I answered, „I did not ask you under what circumstances you lost yours. So let‟s leave it at that.‟” She laughed and continued.
“Oh, he‟s not bad. He is very open handed with money and wants the best for me. It‟s just this harping around my person and my every move that gets on my nerves. You were never a jealous person.”
“I had no need to be. I saw the love in your eyes. You had eyes for no one else.”
“In our little European circle in Cairo who else would there be? You were the handsomest boy around.”
“While in Canada, am I to understand, the field is wide open?”
“Yes. As a matter of fact it is.”
“Then Haik is not unreasonable to fear for his young and very beautiful wife.”
“Would you be worried?”
“If I did not see love in your eyes, I would be.”
“Is that why you are staring at me so intently?”
“Yes, my dear. I am trying to find out where I stand.” He smiled and went on,
“I am also staring because I cannot yet grasp the full extent of reality, of my happiness. I have been somnambulating ever since I took the plane from Cairo. Is that you actually sitting opposite to me? My Khachadourian? Chatting with me, holding my hand? I am afraid it might be a dream again. I have had such dreams before and I do not want to wake up this time.”
She smiled and pinched his hand and then placed it on her face.
“Wake up, my starry-eyed Paul. Feel the flesh and blood. My God, you are not made for this world. If you do not change you shall be one of the losers of life.” Paul did not understand what she meant. His hand was on her face and he caressed it tenderly and gently stroked her ear. He was gaining confidence and it seemed to him a path was being traced in the mist of their emotions. He was sure Sonia was not happy in her marriage. They were flirting again like old times and they talked gaily throughout their meal. The fine red wine which they consumed with abandon was coursing in their bloodstream making Paul audacious and Sonia reckless. They were happy and flushed with wine when they left the bistro and on the street he held her arm in his. They walked towards the hotel slowly and a little unsteadily holding each other tightly. On the way he stopped.
“I have something for you,” he said.
She turned her face at him and smiled.
“You fibber,” she said, “you‟ve played that trick before.” 24
He kissed her on the mouth. He felt her melting and softening and her tongue was as wild as his.
They reached the hotel, retrieved their keys from the reception desk and walked slowly, holding hands, towards the elevators. They stopped and looked at each other and smiled, waiting for the elevator to arrive. Paul was trying to figure out the opening words to the final chapter. His wine-soaked, emotionally overloaded brain seemed jammed and Sonia with abrupt earthiness provided them.
“Your room or mine?” she asked.
“Whatever,” he said.
They chose her room and as soon as the door was shut they wrapped their bodies into an endless embrace and their love into an endless kiss. They started swaying, losing their balance. They were out of breath and dizzy and fell on the bed to continue their turbulent kissing in a delirium of love words. Then they stood and undressed throwing their clothes left and right. They laughed at their hurry and desperation. Naked, they lay on the bed again and enfolded their bodies with arms and legs. They kissed, struggled and moaned in the delicate and intense moments before penetration when passion is building up through the intimacy of nakedness, the need to touch and fondle, the warmth of the body, its color, its texture, the feel and odor of flesh.
Suddenly, Paul remembered.
“Oh God, I have no condoms.”
“It‟s all right,” said Sonia. “I‟m pregnant.”
Paul was shocked momentarily. A person in love is rarely generously disposed to outsiders. His malady makes him selfish. And yet, it flashed in his mind that he was the outsider, the trespasser. If Sonia was happy, so was he.
“How wonderful, Sonia,” he said. What else could he say?
“Not so wonderful, Paul. I did not want a baby right now.” It was hardly the moment for explanations and their love absorbed all their senses and intellect. A give and take, selfish and generous, giving and self-seeking, rhythmic and formless, prosaic and imaginative, structured and inventive, prehistoric and delightfully novel, in and out of agony, in and out of ecstasy, in and out, in and out. At twenty five, soppy with wine it can last for hours.
That was how it was with Sonia and Paul.
They lost the sense of time in a marathon of lovemaking where exertion and endurance were rewarded by voluptuousness and sensual pleasure. They reached orgasm and collapsed, disengaged and lay on their backs to regain their breath and cool their bodies. A faint smile of elation on their lips, the odor of lovemaking in the air. They were quiet for a while.
“I wonder if the baby is still alive,” said Sonia with black humour after the contortions and stabbings of love and her multitude of multiple orgasms.
“Five years of our privation packed in one session,” said Paul exaggerating but only slightly.
“My God, I have never experienced such orgasms before. They were almost worth the separation.”
Paul kissed her and pretended he was leaving.
“See you in five years,” he said.
They laughed. They could not open their eyes and cuddled up again, legs and arms entangled, breathing each other‟s breaths, and slept.
They woke up in darkness, kissed, caressed, made love again, dressed and ordered sandwiches and champagne. Their appetite was hearty, the wine exhilarating.
25
Almost an aphrodisiac. They talked, joked and kissed and were tender and funny digging up their common past, their love, their sexual awakening, their inexhaustible passion, the tricks and lies to their families to spend a few hours together. Everything that attached them five years ago. They ordered a second bottle and like a second sexual union, they consumed it less avidly, sip by sip, chatting about their lives and their concerns.
“What a wonderful light-hearted wine,” said Paul. “Just right for the occasion.
You know Sonia, somehow I feel sorry for your husband. I keep wondering why you are in my arms. Not that I would change anything. I am so utterly happy. The thought of parting drives me crazy. But I suppose these are essential ingredients in an illicit affair. Guilt, love and happiness, the excitement of the forbidden, the glorious feeling of sexual satiety and, finally, the sweet sorrow of parting. Except that my sorrow will be poisonous. In the last analysis I regret nothing even if I shall go into depression for months.”
“So will I, my darling. You were right, Paul. I am not happily married.”
“I never said a thing.”
“Oh, not explicitly but you would not have tried to make love to me if you thought I was happy. I know you well. You are the closest person to me. You love me and I trust you. Do you want the truth?”
“Of course.”
“I am unfaithful to my husband. Not often. On the right occasions. Discreetly and carefully. This is not the first time.”
Again, Paul was shocked. He stared at her silently. He did not know what to say. His love confused his morals. He would not accept that Sonia was depraved or doing something that was wrong. It is life that plays tricks on you. You just react to situations and try to survive.
“I love him because he is kind and generous to me and despite his enervating interrogations which after all are not misplaced. But sexually he leaves me cold. I feel like a prostitute who is there just for his money and the easy life he provides.
Especially so when we make love and I feel not a thing.”
“Oh Sonia, leave him. Come with me. Your baby shall be mine.” Sonia smiled.
“Wake up Paulie,” she said.
“Did I say something outrageous?”
“No, my love. You said something very dreamy and impractical. But I‟ll think about it.”
“It was obvious to Paul that she was humoring him.” They talked for hours. Sip by sip. Kiss by kiss. About his life. About hers. She could not envisage returning to Cairo. She had delineated the life she wanted. An academic career that fulfilled her and made her feel useful in teaching and spreading her love of literature to young minds. Haik fitted in perfectly by providing the means, his support and his love. The child that was coming was a complication to her plans but money solves problems. She would have a nurse take care of it. The projected move to France was another hurdle to overcome but she was examining the possibility of transferring to the Sorbonne. The initial feelers were encouraging. It might work out after all. Otherwise she would veto it and Haik would comply.
Paul listened silently to her plans. He had nothing much to say. His life was dull with no prospect of change. He knew, now, that Sonia was out of his reach. He tried to draw comfort from the conviction that, however things might turn out, it was better to have loved and lost than to have never loved. At least his loss was beyond his 26
control whereas Sonia‟s loss was of her own making for another objective, another ambition, for a life-style of wealth and security where love was peripheral. She would have transient love affairs and perhaps call on Paul for stronger emotions. She did love him. He had no doubt about it. Nevertheless, money and security were more seductive or, in any case, more practical. He began understanding that love to a woman is a more complicated proposition than it is to a man. He embraced her and kissed her in the middle of a sentence. She was surprised at his sudden outburst of passion. She kissed him back and he started undressing her. She smiled at his rush.
“What‟s wrong?” she asked.
“We haven‟t got much time.”
“We have three days.”
“Please don‟t remind me. I feel like crying.”
“Why my Paulie?”
“Because I love you, you silly girl.”
“I love you, too, my darling.”
They made love again and again and hardly slept that night.
Three days they spent together. In the mornings Sonia would go to the Sorbonne to meet the professors in charge of the Literature department and Paul would walk aimlessly around the city, enjoying the charm and liveliness of Paris, the well dressed, attractive young people busily going about their business, the beautiful old buildings and shops with their tasteful, luxurious merchandise, the Seine and its bridges, the Louvre and the Luxembourg art galleries and all the other tourist attractions. He would meet Sonia for lunch and they would return to the hotel for passionate lovemaking. In the evening it was long, meandering walks in the Quartier Latin, Montmartre, Place Pigalle and Place Clichy. It was a magic world of art and sensuality. It fitted their mood and the two lovers, walking hand in hand, talking gaily, laughing and kissing, were living an enchanted reverie. It lasted all of three days.
They parted on the fourth with aching hearts without the certainty of meeting again with just the consolation of their forthcoming correspondence.
Sonia and her husband did not move to Paris as soon as they expected. A baby girl was born called Amy and Sonia continued her studies for a PhD. A second baby girl was born two years later and Sonia was awarded her doctorate a few months after giving birth to Alice. She and Haik finally decided to move to Paris when she was offered a lectureship at the Sorbonne to teach a course called Advanced English and English Literature. It suited her perfectly as a good part of the teaching would be in English. In these last two years she attended courses in French and her proficiency in that language improved considerably.
Paul met Sonia again about a year after she and her family had settled in Paris.
He was on a short holiday in Greece and decided to fly for a few days to Paris to see her. He wanted to surprise her. He called her on the phone from a café close to her apartment.
“Paul!” she exclaimed when she heard his voice, “how nice of you to call.
How are you?”
“I‟m fine Sonia. I miss you and I wanted to hear your voice.”
“Oh, that‟s terribly sweet.”
“Can you come down at the l‟Oréal Café?”
“What for?”
“To join me for a coffee.”
“Good God!”
27
Five minutes later, they were in each other‟s arms embracing and kissing.
They sat down for coffee laughing at her shock and talking animatedly. She was nearing her thirties and had lost her girlishness. She was an attractive, elegant young woman with the maturity not necessarily of age but of the prime of life. A maturity and self-confidence that comes from higher education, culture and financial ease.
Perhaps also from parenthood. Paris had been kind to her. She was smartly dressed and displayed that special Parisian air of sophistication. It seemed to Paul as if she had ascended a level he could not attain. And yet their old intimacy remained intact for Sonia of the many men was essentially a one-man woman. Perhaps it is unethical to condone her numerous infidelities to her husband and admire her constancy to Paul but the fact remained that her love for Paul was deep-rooted and there was no reason for it to change.
Paul was as handsome as ever, as sweet as ever and as in love with her as ever.
His diffidence and decency touched her in the face of the general brashness and baseness of the world and his passion and sexual avidity for her excited her because unlike her other casual affairs this one was saturated with genuine feeling and love.
He was the only man that truly aroused and fulfilled her sexually. Life sometimes pushes one in paths that do not make for happiness, and adjustments, ethical or not, are made to compensate. Sonia was not resolute enough to resist her family‟s pressure to marry the well-heeled Haik and was not disposed to leave the luxury he provided when she found out she was not happy with him but was gutsy enough to seek sexual gratification in casual, short-lived affairs. There are no saints in this world. There never have been. Just hypocrites and moralizers.
They talked for a couple of hours and renamed l‟Oréal their Groppi in Paris.
Alas, it was their Groppi for just one afternoon. She invited him next day, which was a Saturday, for lunch to meet Haik and her children. He arrived punctually at two at the modern and luxurious building where she lived. When the door opened, three pair of eyes were upon him: Sonia‟s, Haik‟s and Amy‟s. Even the one-year-old baby was taking precarious steps towards him. He kissed Sonia and shook hands with Haik.
Haik was a big portly man with a round, chubby face and a bushy mustache.
The type of face one would find in Turkey and the Middle East in every coffee shop but without the swarthiness. His hair was thinning. A washed out blond color turning prematurely gray. He was not good-looking but undoubtedly conveyed the aura of wealth and power. His eyes blatantly disclosed the shrewdness of a businessman and together with an air of self-confidence would not let him pass unnoticed and might even be considered as charm in the right circles. He spoke English and French with the semi-American accent of Canadians. He was polite and hearty with Paul though Paul sensed he was concealing a wariness and suspicion towards him. Little Amy, now three, was not particularly pretty but had Sonia‟s eyes in a larger version and her father‟s blondish hair. Unlike Amy, Alice was a veritable little doll, sociable and friendly.
They sat at the salon for an aperitif and Haik‟s first question was,
“How do you find your girlfriend ten years later.”
“We were next door neighbors, Haik, never boyfriend and girlfriend,” said Sonia smiling at Paul.
“Quite another person,” said Paul. “A sophisticated Parisian, not the little girl that smacked me when I annoyed her.”
“She is teaching at the Sorbonne,” he said proudly. “Ah, but you must know that. There is a regular correspondence between you two. Can you imagine, she never lets me read your letters? She destroys them after reading them.” 28
“Letters are personal,” said Sonia. “Even the lord and master should not read them. One must have a modicum of privacy even if they are completely innocuous.”
“There she goes. Showing off again. Using words I hardly understand.”
“We just exchange news,” said Paul. “She is nostalgic of Cairo and I write to tell her so and so got married, so and so died.”
“I did tell you, Haik, that Paul reads a lot and we also discuss the books we read.”
“Yes, and Sonia being a PhD in literature, I ask her expert opinion on what I read and what to read next.”
They all smiled politely.
“And how is Cairo?” asked Haik.
“Well, ever since I returned from London about ten years ago, I keep expecting the country to collapse but it keeps limping along. Its problems are multiplying but it keeps surviving.”
They had lunch attended by a maid and Amy sat at table with her nurse. The baby had already eaten and was taken for a nap. Amy was a grouchy child, sniveling and protesting at every mouthful. She spit out her food, spilt her fruit juice and made a small mess on the starched tablecloth in front of her. Throughout lunch she monopolized the limelight with her antics interrupting and stultifying all nascent conversations. Sonia was cool and patient but Paul was glad when lunch was over and after a decent interval got up to leave. He thanked Haik and kissed Amy. Sonia accompanied him to the elevator.
“Tomorrow at eleven I shall come to the hotel,” she whispered to him.
He shook her hand, kissed her decorously thanking her in a loud voice and in another whisper, added,
“I shall be waiting.”
Haik was off to Canada for a few days of business and that Sunday morning, at eleven, they put the Do Not Disturb sign outside the door and made love on and off till late afternoon lunching on sandwiches and champagne. She returned home on time for the habitual telephone call from Haik. On the next few days she would meet him directly after her lectures and they would spend the afternoon in bed. Their time together was more confined and they preferred to use it quenching their passion and having their conversations naked in bed. They cuddled and kissed with the blinds open, with the gray, rainy skies providing the pale glow and snug atmosphere that made them reluctant to go out and the effort of parting so difficult.
“You rejuvenate me my Paul,” Sonia told him. “You are my psychiatrist restoring my frayed nerves, calming me down. You are as much my medicine as you are my pleasure.”
“Perhaps pleasure is your medicine,” Paul told her smiling. “Do you take it regularly?”
“I try. I am careful. I want neither emotional attachments nor the reputation of a slut. Frenchmen seem to take these things in their stride. They are much less complicated in sex than Canadians. Much more detached and casual and this suits me pretty well. Do I shock you?”
“I have come to accept your sexual independence. The only thing that would shock me and devastate me is if you told me you did not love me.”
“How can I not love you when every love session is a visit to paradise? You are truly the man that has marked my life.”
“And you the woman I cannot get over.”
29
“Perhaps this idealization persists because we are apart. Because we meet for three days every three years. And, of course, because we have a common past. We shared the most wonderful and idyllic growing up. As deep and passionate a love as any in the novels we read. Do you know I still have reveries about those days? I thought of writing a novel about our love but I decided against it. I was not sure I would be able to convey the wonder, the heady emotion of those two summers of lovemaking. I was afraid it woul