Marwan al-Qasir was a bank employee who greatly admired Wafiqa, his colleague at work, but remained content to look at her silently and sadly. He always made sure his eyes did not show any hunger when he looked at her, for Wafiqa was not an easy woman. She was beautiful and magnetic, a serious woman, religious and resolute. She drew strict boundaries, allowing no one who spoke to her to pass beyond them. But one day Marwan mustered his courage and slipped into her hand a folded piece of paper with details of his address and an appeal to come see him any time on their day off to discuss a very urgent matter.
The moment he came home and thought about it he regretted what he had done. He accused himself of being superficial, naïve, stupid, rude, and impertinent. He was pleased the following day when Wafiqa behaved naturally, as though she had lost his letter without having read it. Yet for no particular reason he stayed home on their day off, and was surprised to see her come. He tried to speak words of welcome, but his happiness overcame all speech. He muttered something vague, which made him realize that if Wafiqa had been in a hurry to ask about the urgent matter he would have stammered and stuttered, giving the impression of being stupid and laughable.
But she did not ask any questions and followed him into a room in which there was only a sofa, a television set, and a small, low table. She sat on the sofa and said she wasn’t going to stay more than a few minutes. She threw a probing look around her and said it was stifling in there as she took off her headscarf. Marwan saw what he had not seen before – long black hair and an elegant neck. These were always hidden under a secure cover that revealed only her face. His hand crept near hers and held it. Wafiqa said with pride that regardless of how hot it was her hands didn’t sweat. The hand holding hers then realized there were other treasures to be had, more precious and appealing. It froze for a hesitant moment, then moved to her knee, behaving as if the knee were the head of a small child who wanted to go to sleep. Wafiqa then said she came only because she wanted to test him, to see if he really respected his colleagues and understood the nature of an innocent relationship between a man and a woman. He nodded, confident he would pass the test. He set his mouth on her fleshy lower lip, devouring it. Wafiqa said she was a decent, married woman who would rather die than cheat on her husband. She lay back on the sofa, but a cracking made it clear something had broken inside it. Laughing, Wafiqa said that whoever sold him the sofa had cheated him because it couldn’t take the weight of two people. Maybe it was designed for one person only. Marwan then led her into his bedroom, where there was a bed with strong legs. He tried to remove her clothes, but she evaded his hands, her face turning red as if she had been insulted. She started to take off her clothes without any help, and threw each piece to the floor as she removed it with the gesture of someone who was never going to put it on again. Then she stood there naked, solemn, serious-looking, and self-confident, and stretched her limbs like someone ready for a long run. Marwan felt confused, but he covered her flesh with his own rather than with the quilt. She begged him not to soil the purity of her ablutions. After a few silent moments, she said in a low, panting voice: “Your name is all cheating and lying. Change it from Marwan al-Qasir (the short) to Marwan al-Tawil (the long).”
When it was dark, Wafiqa stood in front of the mirror, making sure her scarf revealed nothing other than her face. She left the house with Marwan, who stumbled along beside her, exhausted. As they walked together, heading for a bus stop nearby, Wafiqa stared in dismay at a young woman without a headscarf and said in a voice full of sadness that immoral behavior had become widespread. Marwan nodded in agreement.