Omar reflected about his other friend in jail. Ennui dulls even the sensitive conscience. Omar had been in the heat of danger, but his friend had not confessed. In spite of torture, he had not confessed. Now he’d melted into the darkness as though he’d never existed, while Omar grew sick with luxury, and his wife had become the exemplary symbol of the kitchen and the bank. Ask yourself whether the Nile beneath us doesn’t despair.

“Papa, should we get ready to travel?”

“We’ll have a great time. I’m going to teach your sister to swim as I once taught you.”

“Away to the life buoys.”

Here is your mother resembling a giant life buoy. How oppressive the horizon is. Freedom is hidden somewhere beyond it and no hope remains except a troubled conscience.

“Unfortunately my wife prefers the beach at Ras el Bar, and someone like me never gets a vacation unless he’s stricken with cancer.”

Jamila raised her head from her teddy bear, asking, “When will we leave, Papa?”

Mustapha was a monument to his love and marriage; counselor, helper, and witness. Every day he proved anew his friendship to Omar and the family. As yet he knew nothing of the waters which drifted in the river’s depths.

“The doctor reminded me of my poetical youth!”

Mustapha laughed. “It seems he hasn’t heard of my recent dramatic masterpieces.”

“I wish I’d told him of your experiences with art.”

“I wonder if the great physician believes in art.”

“His wife is fond of you. Isn’t that enough?”

“Then she’s fond of watermelon seeds and popcorn.”

Zeinab, who’d been watching the servant through the arched doorway, then said, “Let’s go in to dinner.”

Omar announced that he would restrict himself to a chicken breast, fruit, and one glass of whiskey, to which Mustapha replied, “How about the caviar? Do I consume it alone?” Then he proceeded to give the description of Churchill’s breakfast which appeared in one of the newspapers during his visit to Cyprus. Although Omar hesitated a bit at the beginning of the meal, he soon ate and drank without restraint. Zeinab likewise couldn’t resist temptation and drank a whole bottle of beer. Buthayna ate with moderation, a perversity in the eyes of her mother.

Mustapha remarked, “Food offers a better explanation of human behavior than sex does.”

Omar forgot himself for the first time, exclaiming merrily, “It seems you’ve got chickenitis!”