20. A GREAT, RARE BLESSING

During the next Kudjoocome, Grandma cornered Robby’s sister and demanded an explanation.

Robby’s father told her off, “No té mesklés, don’t intervene!”

“Ma porqué?” Grandma protested. “Why not? Aren’t we human beings? Don’t we deserve answers? Shouldn’t she explain herself to her mother?”

“She’s almost twenty years old. She knows what she’s doing.” Then he added, hiding a smile, “I hope.”

“What do you think, Papa? Should I marry David?”

This direct question upset him. She was asking for a clear answer, real advice. Robby’s father didn’t put much stake in advice. One never asks for someone else’s advice before having already made up his mind, wanting nothing more than support for his decision, a confirmation that contributes nothing. He sighed. What should he tell her? Did he even know David Hamdi-Ali? He’d barely spoken to him since his family moved in. Just a few nods. Nevertheless, Robby’s father knew for certain that Hamdi-Ali junior was a superficial boy, not too bright. Robby’s father never had much patience for fools. As it turned out, he did have an opinion in the matter. The girl acted wisely, turning David down. Still, he was comfortable not voicing his opinion, not having the matter discussed in a family forum. If this forum began discussing all the romantic involvements of his children, what would be the end of that?

Everyone waited for him to speak. No one dared urge him, not even Grandma.

Finally he sighed and said, “I wouldn’t marry David Hamdi-Ali.”

The oracle had spoken. The matter was settled. A short, clear-cut answer. Robby’s sister looked at her father gratefully. Their eyes met. A hint of a smile drained into the corners of his eyes, and she returned the favor with a wide smile of her own. They understood each other. How great the distance was between David’s loud arrogance and her father’s confident quiet, which contained endless fountains of wisdom. She adored him and vowed to only ever marry a man who would measure up to him. Her eyes wandered over to her mother’s good, slightly plump face. She was so attached to these people! They were both still in the prime of their lives, but she knew it wouldn’t be long before their hair turned silver. Wrinkles would appear on her mother’s smooth face, the skin of which was taut and rosy, especially after the siesta. The thought was too sad and she wanted to cry, but was afraid that her grandmother might interpret her tears as a lament for the end of her affair with David Hamdi-Ali. Grandma’s skin had already yellowed slightly, and age spots had spread over her concave forehead. Her green eyes, quick and stubborn, stuck out of deepening sockets. She loved Grandma. They’d always had a secret bond, in spite of their constant bickering. She must know that this wasn’t merely a whim. This was too serious a matter. Robby’s sister decided at once to break her vow of silence, and spoke.

Grandma was shocked. She was under the impression that her granddaughter had rejected David due to frivolity. Now this cocona was giving her a list of thought-out reasons she could barely stand to deny. This one most of all:

“The boys are in Israel. Papa said that sooner or later we’ll all join them. David would never go to Israel. There are no horse races there, and his father wouldn’t let him give up horse racing. David isn’t one to disobey his father, and even if he were, what would he do then? This way he has money, he has fame. Without horse racing, what would he be worth? There’s no chance he’ll ever leave Egypt. I don’t want to be away from you. You’re more important to me than all the Hamdi-Alis in the world. I also don’t want all of us to stay here because of me, far away from the boys …”

“As Jews, our only future is in Israel,” her father confirmed. His view on this matter was clear. He’d never been an active, militant Zionist, like his friend and neighbor Maurice Rosenberg, who’d already served several months in an Egyptian prison for underground Zionist activity. Robby’s father did not like politics. He preferred to read a novel, not a newspaper, and hardly listened to the news on the radio. A few months prior, his second son wrote him from his training in France, telling him he had received an offer to stay and become a French citizen, thanks to his excellence on the local basketball team. He asked for his father’s advice. His father did not hesitate and instructed him to turn down the offer and continue to Israel, and his son did, along with his older brother. In spite of their independence, or perhaps because of their independence, the children cherished their father’s opinion, never under-estimating it.

“I don’t want to be away from you,” Robby’s sister said and gave her father a long kiss. Robby jumped up and kissed her. A united family, what a great, rare blessing.