He sat there, feeling awkward, until rescued by the arrival of Aliyyat and Buthayna. Aliyyat helped relieve the tension with her jokes and anecdotes, and after a while the baby was wheeled in on his cot. They uncovered his face, a red ball of flesh with rubbery features. It was hard to believe it would ever fall into shape, let alone an acceptable one. But he was reassured by his previous experiences of fatherhood—indeed, the subject of one of them was leaning over the cot right now, her green eyes peering at the baby with amazement and tenderness. He felt nothing in particular toward the baby but knew that he would grow to love him as he should. The child’s neutral, rather startled look was enough for the moment. If you’d been able to express yourself, I would have asked you about your feelings, and your memories of the world from which you’ve just come.

“Have you chosen a name for him?” asked Aliyyat.

“Samir,” Buthayna answered.

Samir, the companion and entertainer. May his name protect him from grief.

Aliyyat said pointedly, “Let’s hope his upbringing will be in the hands of both parents.”

He’d glided along the brink of creation, yet there was no intimation of change. He felt as alienated as ever. The newborn child had not bridged the gap between Zeinab and himself. He began wondering how long he’d have to sit there, the object of their glances and curiosity.

As lunchtime approached, he took his leave. Buthayna followed him outside, and her usual openness with him was apparent as she said, “Papa, you won’t remain alone…”

He really didn’t need the empty flat anymore now that he was dreaming of a new kind of solitude. “What do you want?” he asked submissively.

“I want you to come back.”

Kissing her cheek, he said, “On condition that you won’t get fed up with me.”

Her face beaming, she took his arm and walked with him to the outer door.

FIFTEEN

He returned home, unchanged, feeling neither love nor hatred for Zeinab. But the disappearance of hatred signified the disappearance of Zeinab herself, the victory of his advancing exile over her world.

“We must accept this ordeal courageously,” he told her.

And indeed she appeared brave, even deserting his bed. Touched by her attitude, he commended her. “You’re a model of patience.”