After this, his relationship with Suwayr strengthened. He visited her a lot. They would talk a great deal, and often they would make love. He started to skip the occasional morning lecture, especially Shahtuti’s and al-Ghadban’s, so as to see her. Sometimes, when he reflected that he had betrayed his entire upbringing, he felt sick with self-loathing. But he was unable to stop himself spinning round and round in a wheel he’d set rolling himself – and, indeed, he didn’t really want to stop.
He stopped spying on her when one night, creeping up to the window, he saw her making love to her husband. The sight enraged him. But although he stopped spying on them, anger and lust still gripped him whenever he heard the dogs barking outside, because they conjured images of Suwayr moaning under her husband. He would feel a great loathing for her, and a fierce loathing for himself, before lust quickly took the place of anger.
He discovered she was foolhardy. One day, around noon, he was flicking through magazines in his room, leaning against the wall, and listening to Umm Kulthumm singing, Ask the golden cups, when he was suddenly aware of Suwayr, her voluptuous body and distinctive smell of lemon perfume, her broad smile and her provocative eyes, standing right in front of him. Her cloak had fallen from her head and lay on her shoulders; her thick hair fell to just below her bottom, and she had wrapped its ends around her waist. When he saw her he leapt up instinctively and locked his door shut. Then he retraced his steps while Suwayr watched him, laughing irrepressibly as she covered her mouth with her sleeve. Her eyes were fixed on him, radiating childish glee.
‘You’re mad,’ he said. ‘You’re completely mad.’ He stared at her, transfixed, every particle of his body on edge. His hands shook, and he spoke in a whisper, looking nervously at the door. Suwayr laughed, taking off her gown to reveal a flowing, gaily-patterned dress, the front open halfway down her rebellious breasts. She threw herself on him and dragged him towards the bed. Then she sat him on it and planted a deep kiss on his mouth. Her eyes melted and she said, ‘Yes, I’m mad for you. Ever since I saw you, I’ve been mad.’
She kissed him again, then glanced round the room. ‘This is lovely …’ She broke off, then said passionately, ‘It’s enough for you to be breathing in it for the room to be nice.’ At this Hisham felt a glorious burst of self-importance, despite his considerable fear that they would be discovered. He lit a cigarette and dragged greedily on it, blowing the smoke into Suwayr’s face, as if to challenge her, or exercise his inflated ego by humiliating her. He knew that she didn’t like smoking; she had told him so before. But she just closed her eyes and breathed in the smoke, saying, ‘Even the smoke you exhale is different from other smoke. It’s enough for it to be mixed with your breath for me to like it.’
She kissed him again. He felt a surge of pleasure; he was almost bursting from pride. She came closer to him and their bodies met. He felt the warmth of her body mingled with a feminine smell and the smell of lemon. They spoke in a whisper, which stopped when Suwayr closed his mouth with hers. He asked her how she had managed to come to his room. Laughing with happiness and pride, she hugged him and whispered in his ear:
‘My love, my love! Don’t you know that Moudhi is my friend? We are neighbours. I visit her when I’m in the mood. It seems that visiting her will cross my mind quite often from now on!’ She laughed tenderly. But Hisham was confused.
‘Aren’t you afraid that Moudhi will suspect something?’ Suwayr laughed again.
‘My love, Moudhi is always busy, I even leave without her saying goodbye to me at the door. If I wanted to burgle the whole house, there’d be no one to stop me.’ She was silent for a bit, smiling and gazing at Hisham. Then she said, ‘Moudhi is convinced you are the purest being on earth.’ He felt a sharp pain in his stomach as she said that, and flushed deep purple. Suwayr noticed and stopped laughing. She hugged him, whispering in an excited voice, ‘And you are the purest being on earth … but Moudhi doesn’t believe you are capable of anything except reading and studying. She doesn’t know about the tender heart inside you, or your pure spirit. You are my beloved, and will remain my beloved forever.’ She pulled away from him, her eyes bathed in tears that refused to fall. He felt pain in his stomach again, but it was a different kind of pain. Gently he pulled her head onto his shoulder. Suwayr began to cry, sobbing, ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I know them better than anyone, even though I have only got to know you recently. No. I have known you for a long time, and I knew that it was you I had been waiting for the first time we met.’
She continued to weep. Hisham waited for her to calm down, then raised her head from his shoulder. Her eyes and cheeks were completely soaked in tears. She took her veil and started to wipe them away, smiling and apologising, ‘I’m being so cruel.’ Hisham felt that he really loved her. His throat hurt, and tears filled his eyes. They stayed for a moment without speaking, looking at each other, then she suddenly stood up and took her cloak, saying, ‘It’s time to go. Alyan will arrive soon, and I haven’t got supper ready yet.’ She hurried to the door. Before she left, she blew him a kiss, and smiled. Then he sat alone, the scent of lemon filling the room.
After that, Suwayr came to him three times a week. Whenever she left, he felt loathsome and small. He was betraying the trust of the Prophet’s family and stabbing them in the back, just as long ago he had shattered the image his mother had of him. Had he turned into such a despicable creature so quickly and so utterly? He began to frequent the mosque, but he could not attain the same fervour that he had felt the time he went after his experience with Raqiyya. And he was winning the admiration and absolute trust of his uncle, which made him loathe himself even more. So the last time Suwayr visited him, he asked her not to come back. She protested at first, but he threatened to break off the relationship once and for all. Reluctantly, she accepted. In actual fact he was determined to break the relationship with her anyway, but he couldn’t. He carried on going to her in her house. Lust, love, fear, anxiety and loathing enveloped him every visit. Love for her, like the love he felt for Noura, began to grow within him. He desired her more than Raqiyya, and treasured her, but not like Moudhi. To him, she had almost come to represent all three of these women, but he kept hidden powerful feelings of hate and disgust for her. These feelings clung to him, and nothing he could do could rid him of them.