In the waiting room, Omar raised his eyes once again to the picture. The child was still riding his wooden horse, gazing at the horizon. Was it this which prompted his mysterious smile? The horizon still closed in upon the earth. What did the beams of starlight traveling millions of light-years perceive? There are questions which no doctor can answer.

Outside the building he climbed into his black Cadillac, which floated away from the square like a bark on the Nile.

TWO

The faces peered at him expectantly even before they’d exchanged greetings. Their concern was sincere, and he was troubled by his dissatisfaction, the bitterness which spoiled the remaining affection. Behind them the balcony overlooked the Nile. He focused on his wife’s thick neck above her white collar and on her fleshy cheeks. She stood as the pillar of faith and virtue. Her green eyes were pouched in fat, but her smile was innocent and affectionate as she said, “My heart tells me all is well.”

Mustapha al-Minyawi stood beside her in his sharkskin suit, his slender build overshadowed by her sturdiness. His pale oval face, lackluster eyes, and bald head were turned toward Omar.

“Tell us about our old school friend. What did he say? Did he recognize you?”

Buthayna stood with her elbow leaning on the shoulder of a bronze statue, the statue of a woman stretching out her arms in welcome. Her green eyes looked at her father expectantly. She had the fine figure of her mother when she was fourteen, but it seemed unlikely that she would grow obese with the years, that she would allow fat to mar her beauty. As was often the case, the glance in her eyes expressed an unspoken communication. Jamila, her younger sister, played with her teddy bear between two armchairs, oblivious of his arrival.

They all sat down and he said calmly, “Nothing.”

Zeinab exclaimed gratefully, “Thank God. How many times did I say that you only needed rest?”

Her complacency exasperated him. Pointing to his wife, he said to Mustapha, “The responsibility is hers.” And he repeated the charge after summarizing the doctor’s remarks.

Mustapha said gleefully, “This is no more than play therapy!” But then he added ruefully, “Except for food and drinking. Curse them.”

Why should he curse them? He’s not the one affected. The one who sets out on the mysterious voyage, perplexed by love and dissatisfaction, unable to speak to himself in a suitable language, what is he to do? Omar said to Mustapha, “Dr. Hamid asked about Baldy.” After the burst of laughter had subsided, he added, “And congratulations on winning his wife’s admiration.”

Mustapha grinned boyishly, displaying his white teeth. “Thanks to the radio and TV, I’ve developed into a plague, striking those with weak resistance.”