Short Story Nawal.. [Archives:2006/948/Culture]
By: Hamdan Dammaj
She felt the freezing cold from the hall's air conditioners relentlessly penetrate her bones. She leant her head against his broad shoulder and followed the film's events, unperturbed by his savage hand sneaking through her summer coat to play systematically with her sensitive parts.
“This Negro is nice,” she thought. She had known him only for a short time, but he quickly managed to find her a job. He was infatuated with her. She was thinking of the good pay she would earn from the job, smiled and readjusted herself in the seat, letting him caress whatever he wanted.
***
She removed her veil and sharshaf (black robe) with her friends in the room next door. Her laughter was distinctive. She entered the room with her face slightly disturbed. She greeted them kindly and coyly.
He looked at her bare legs and her prominent bosom and was struck in admiration. How beautiful she is! She resembles commercial ad models to a great extent. He gaped for a long while. His eyes kept scrutinizing her tender body, graceful construct, white arms, bare shoulders and mild soft chest. He hardly believed the veil could obscure such a beauty.
A hidden shiver ran through his body and shook him entirely. Perceiving this, his friends left her to him and busied themselves with the rest. He was infatuated with her thoroughly. She was bashful. Unlike her more professional and experienced companions, she seemed unaccustomed to secret love affairs. She must be a novice.
He dated her many times and eventually fell under her mad love. He knew her real name but continued to call her by the name he learned at their first meeting. Even when Scotland Yard interrogated him several years later, he referred to her by the same name – Nawal.
***
He waved to the farewell bidders and rushed into the departure hall as he saw her having her passport checked. The plan was going right. As soon as the plane took off, they joined hands passionately. With the help of a close friend in the airline office, he booked side-by-side seats. She told him she'd like to see the world through the window, which she did.
***
Overwhelming him with kisses, she told him she wanted a job like her colleagues at the language institute. The job would help them acquire the language. She continued persuading him for a long time. Eventually, he reluctantly gave in despite his terrible anxiety. He knew she no longer was his and his opportunity to possess her was diminishing gradually since the moment he saw her, one week ago, playfully caress her Italian colleague who was maneuvering for a kiss.
Stricken by blind jealousy, he appeared silly. He slapped her fiercely one day. She threatened to call the police, as his petty threats no longer frightened her. Nay, no one could curb her mind's wild imagination. She felt a sense of tremendous triumph, realizing she could do whatever she liked. She came to have many boyfriends.
Whatever remained of him in her heart was not enough to deter her from deserting him for good. He felt he was a tiny insect trying to climb a slippery wall. Her rebellion was inevitable ut too painful for him. Since that day, he understood that their relationship was over.
***
She had not contacted him in a considerable period of time. He used to hear about her from mutual friends who later dispersed. He withstood the feeling of defeat for a long time. Afterward, Nawal occupied his memory as the most influential event in his life which, as a human being, he could not have predicted its expiration a few minutes later.
“Why the hell did I remember her now?” he asked himself. “Why does the Peugeot driver insist on buying qat at this very point?” The journey was still at the beginning and they would pass several qat markets on their long way up to the capital city. The car had pulled off haphazardly on one side of the highway. Despite his passengers' protests, the petulant driver got out and went over to a nearby iron qat stand. Shortly thereafter, other passengers followed him to buy qat.
Jammed in the back seat, he moved his body with difficulty. He was fatigued by travel, congestion and the sun scorching his wet sweaty back. In the same random manner, a luxurious car stopped on the other side of the road. Despite the sunrays' blinding reflection on the car's elegant body, he could discern the features of a beautiful woman inside.
He lit his last cigarette, its smoke mixing with that of the cigarettes of front seat passengers impatiently waiting for the driver. They began sounding the horn restlessly to make him hurry up. His eyes still were observing the beauty inside the car whose number plate showed it was state-owned.
Sellers and busybodies infesting Al-Najd Al-Ahmar market at such a time of day kept peeping at her. That made the lady uneasy. She drew her arm inward, which had been set in a relaxed position on the window edge, and partly raised the glass.
***
The passengers' bodies once again were packed and the car began to move. He still was observing her. Suddenly, his sleepy senses awakened and a notion quickly jumped to his mind and he took it for granted. He tried to turn around to see the woman one more time but he couldn't easily free his jammed body.
When he had the chance to look backward, he was appalled by the scene of “huge wheels from a gas tanker, in a horrible accident, running over the rear of a Peugeot, killing five passengers,” as the news story would appear in small font on the back page of the next morning's newspaper.
Translated by: Shaker Al-Molsi
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[archive-e:948-v:14-y:2006-d:2006-05-22-p:culture]
