One afternoon, bored with reading and with Abd al-Rahman’s never-ending complaints, Hisham went to his friends’ house. He knocked on the door several times, but no one answered. It seemed his friends were out. He turned away, intending reluctantly to go back the way he had come, and happened to turn towards Muhaysin’s closed window. Through the blind, he spotted a fan turning. He was surprised that Muhaysin should be so extravagant as to leave the fan turning when he was out. As he stepped from the threshold, he thought he heard a whisper. He listened more carefully, but heard nothing. Again he was about to leave, when this time he heard the sound of a stifled laugh. He was sure he wasn’t just imagining it. With nothing else to do, and overcome by a burning curiosity to know what was happening in Muhaysin’s room, he retraced his steps to the top of the alley and waited at the first corner, watching the house with great anticipation. Then the call to evening prayers sang out. A few minutes later the door opened and Muhaysin’s head popped out and looked anxiously left and right. As soon as he was certain there was no one walking down the street, he disappeared. A girl wrapped in black slipped from the house and headed quickly for one of the houses opposite. She ducked inside and shut the door quietly behind her. Hisham smiled and sensed the ghost of Raqiyya teasing him again. Tension and lust consumed him. He waited for ages, he didn’t know how long, until he saw the window open and Muhaysin’s head emerge briefly. Then he walked back to the house and casually knocked on the door. Muhaysin’s head soon emerged again, this time smiling to greet him. He opened the door wearing a white vest and a pair of white trousers that reached just short of his knees. Droplets of sweat had gathered on his brow.
The two of them went into the room that to Hisham’s mind still bore all the hallmarks of a female guest. Muhaysin donned a white tob that was hanging from a wall-hook. There was little out of the ordinary about his room, just a tea tray with two glasses and a small silver teapot on the desk, and a small towel lying on the floor. Hisham looked at the towel, then up at his friend, with a knowing smile. Muhaysin flushed. He snatched up the towel and chucked it into the bathroom, then came back, saying in a sheepish voice, ‘Forgive me. A bachelor’s mess, as you can see.’ Hisham said nothing but smiled – an inscrutable smile that seemed to Muhaysin to conceal a multitude of meanings.
The two sat on the floor, Hisham still smiling, while Muhaysin continued to look very embarrassed. He soon got up, saying quickly, ‘I’ll make some tea … excuse me.’ He shot off to the kitchen with the tea tray. Hisham followed him with his eyes. A few minutes later his friend returned carrying two glasses and the small silver teapot.
‘I saw her,’ said Hisham, after his first sip of tea, staring hard at Muhaysin and smiling. Muhaysin squirmed uncomfortably, in the process spilling tea on his clothes. ‘I saw her slipping out of the house like a snake.’ Hisham gave a short laugh, while Muhaysin smiled faintly, looking from Hisham to the floor and back. ‘It was the first time, wasn’t it?’ he continued coolly. Muhaysin did not reply, but concentrated on pouring more tea. ‘The first time is always hard,’ added Hisham. ‘What’s the story? Tell me how it happened?’ Hisham remembered what Abd al-Rahman had told him about his first time on the Kharis Road. He was eager to hear what had happened between Muhaysin and the girl, and whether his feelings about her were like his own feelings about Raqiyya.
Muhaysin was reluctant to talk but Hisham insisted, and in the end his friend said falteringly, ‘The fact is … the fact is … this wasn’t the first time. The first time hasn’t happened yet …’
‘I don’t understand. You are talking in riddles,’ said Hisham, turning to face Muhaysin, whose brow dripped with sweat which he wiped away from time to time with his hand. ‘I’ve had several relationships in the past,’ said Muhaysin. ‘And this was a relationship of the same sort. Nothing more …’
‘You mean you didn’t go the whole way?’
‘Yes. We do everything except … you know. There have been other girls, and the one you saw was the same …’
‘Yes, yes,’ said Hisham, again thinking of Raqiyya and the Kharis Road and his conflicting feelings and emotions at the time. He wanted to say something, but Muhaysin spoke first: ‘And you?’
‘And you?’ he said again, swallowing half a glass of tea in a single gulp. ‘Haven’t you tried it? I mean … Well, you know what I mean.’ Hisham remembered Raqiyya, then thought of Noura in Dammam. But he immediately thrust Noura from his mind, ashamed of himself for comparing her with Raqiyya. It was Raqiyya he had in mind when he said, ‘There have been some opportunities, but nothing happened. Even what you have been doing yourself, hasn’t happened. The fact is, I haven’t dared …’
‘It will happen, it will happen,’ said Muhaysin, giggling. All traces of embarrassment and confusion had vanished from his face. Hisham laughed with him and they sipped their tea, each sunk in his own reverie.