The woman looked at him in surprise. The doorman started to point out the directions. He pretended to listen, frequently stealing glances. The promising, provocative look was in her eyes. He was about to ask her about the carnations in her hair, the salty sea breeze, and the naked darkness. The doorman had stopped talking. He thanked him and left them. Where was she going with her watchdog? Was he perhaps overly presumptuous? He had always been forward. But perhaps this time it might ruin everything.

Arriving at the address, he found the doctor’s assistant, who told him that the doctor usually came around noontime. He sat down and waited. Was this the place where his father worked? Fear, despair, hope, anxiety all came crowding in. What would he do if his father denied him? He would fight for his rights to the bitter end! In his excitement he suddenly realized that he didn’t know what the doctor specialized in. He walked out of the waiting room and approached the assistant.

“Please, what branch of medicine does the doctor specialize in?”

“He is a cardiologist.”

“I just wanted to make sure. You see, I’m from Alexandria.” He realized how foolish he must have sounded, but he didn’t care. “Do you have any idea as to the doctor’s age?” he asked.

“I have no idea,” replied the assistant with surprise.

“But you can guess, roughly?”

“He is a professor at the Faculty of Medicine.”

“Is he married?”

“Yes, and he has a son, who is a medical student.”

Now, that is an obstacle! The family will certainly have something to say about the new member coming from the brothels. Nevertheless, he was determined.

The patients started arriving and the waiting room filled up. His turn came. Anxious and full of doubt, he walked into the consulting room. The face bore no resemblance to the photograph. He sat opposite the doctor and started answering his questions.

“My name is Saber Sayed Sayed el-Reheimy.”

“Then you must be my son,” said the doctor with a loud laugh.

“Actually, I’m not here for your professional advice.”

The doctor looked at him questioningly.

“I am looking for Sayed Sayed el-Reheimy.”

“You are looking for me?”

“I don’t know. But please take a look at this photograph.”

The doctor looked at it carefully and shook his head.

“This is not your photograph?”

“Definitely not,” he answered with a laugh. “Who is that beautiful woman?”

“Perhaps one of your relatives? It was taken thirty years ago.”

“No, no.”

“You are from the Reheimy family?”

“My father is Sayed el-Reheimy. He worked at the post office.”

“Are there any other branches of your family?”

“No. My family is a very small one.”

He stood up, despair lining his face. “I am sorry to have troubled you. But maybe you’ve heard of someone with that name?”

“I don’t know anyone of that name. What exactly are you looking for?”