He returned to the car and drove off. Looking at the road dispiritedly, he said, as if addressing someone else, “This is ecstasy.” He paused before continuing. “Certainly, without argumentation or logic.” Then in a more forceful voice: “Breaths of the unknown, whispers of the secret.” Accelerating the car, he asked, “Isn’t it worth giving up everything for its sake?”

FOURTEEN

The ringing of the telephone in the empty nest awakened him. He picked up the receiver and heard Mustapha’s voice. “Where were you all night?” When he didn’t answer, the voice went on. “Zeinab has gone to the hospital.”

There was a moment of incomprehension before he recalled that he was a husband, and a father with more of fatherhood in store. In the waiting room he found Buthayna, Mustapha, and Aliyyat, his wife, a staid, strong-willed matron in her forties, on the short side, plump, and with a round face and features. When it was Buthayna’s turn to greet him, she held out her hand with lowered eyes, to hide her agitation.

“She’s in the delivery room,” Mustapha said, “and everything is going normally.”

As he was about to enter, Aliyyat detained him. “I was just with her, and I’m going in again right now.”

“Shouldn’t I go in too?”

Mustapha said, “It’s better to avoid any sudden excitement.”

It was only a short while before Aliyyat returned and with a beaming face announced to Omar, “Congratulations. You’ve got your crown prince and Zeinab is being taken to her room.”

He sat down beside Buthayna, looking at her tenderly, and placed his hand on hers without a word. In her shyness she let it rest there for a while, then gently withdrew it.

Mustapha followed these motions, and said, “Fortunately hospitals are places where feuds are buried.”

Hiding his disappointment at the withdrawal of her hand, he asked, “When did she get here?”

“Around midnight.”

While he and Warda, animated by champagne, were having their discussion.

“And you didn’t go to school?”

“Of course not, she came with her mother.”

“Thank you, Aliyyat, thank you very much.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, leaving for Zeinab’s room.

“By dawn, she was very tired,” Mustapha remarked.

Ah, dawn in the desert and the glimpse of a perfect, eternal ecstasy. But where is it? Mustapha excused himself to go catch some sleep. The two of them, he and Buthayna, remained waiting. Sensitive to the awkwardness of the situation, he said in a conciliatory tone, “You haven’t slept, Buthayna?”

She shook her head, looking at the beige carpet in the hall.

“Don’t you want to talk to me?”

Fearful of a showdown, she asked, “What can I say?”

“Anything. Whatever is on your mind. I’m your father and your friend. Our relationship cannot be severed.”

She remained silent, obviously touched.

“Don’t we agree about that?”

She nodded, and her lips moved in assent.