Chapter Twenty-Nine

With the English and French occupation of Port Said the resistance had become very active. Every day it broadened, as more and more women and men joined. Under organized leadership the units scattered, concealing themselves in homes and clinics, in shops, in every corner of Port Said. In an old house in Abbadi Street, inside the apartment of an Egyptian resident, stood five youths studying enemy concentrations and the roads leading to their deployments on an immense map of Port Said. They belonged to the engineers’ unit of the Fourth Squadron, the ground troops that had protected the withdrawal of the armed forces on the Abu Ugayla—Ismailiya Road, then had advanced to Port Said to reinforce the defense of the city. Among those five was Husayn Amir, who had lived through every stage of the struggle, from the first skirmishes in Sinai until the attempt to rout the enemy from Port Said.

A week after the resistance began, Husayn came upon Mahmud. Husayn was in charge of communicating instructions to one of the resistance units. When he entered the room where the members were congregated he discovered Mahmud among them. His hands shook as they embraced; with difficulty he regained control of himself, and the work he had come to do began. Mahmud briefed him on the unit’s activities, and Husayn began informing those present of how successful other units had been. Everyone felt a hard joy; the future was opening before their eyes. Husayn felt a pleading hope.

Finally able to take Mahmud aside, Husayn asked about Layla. When he learned of the role she had played in the fight, he asked if he could see her. Mahmud set an appointment with him, and just before, Sanaa left the apartment.

On the threshold of the open door Layla stood facing Husayn. She raised her head to meet his gaze and they stood for a moment without speaking. The affection she had buried for so long sailed from her eyes. She could show the proud delight she felt in those feelings now, and her joy burst from her eyes and showed on her lips, her cheeks, to the tips of her fingers, every atom of her body, as if those feelings composed a translucent light running with the blood in her veins. In Husayn’s eyes astonishment quickly gave way to unbelieving joy. He had come to see her, perhaps for the last time, and suddenly now he discovered that he would wake up every morning to see her face. He had come to visit assuming that she was bound to another man, was the beloved of another man, and now he discovered, standing on the threshold of the open door, that she was his beloved, his, all for him. From his eyes poured the tenderness of years, the longing of years, the deprivation of years, and a happiness so strong that it nearly caused him, sturdy as he was, to lose his balance. In a trembling voice he called her, with trembling hands he brought her closer. And on his broad chest she rested her head and wished time could stop and she could stay there, her head on his chest, her heart beating on his, with his. His hands brushed over her hair, went to her shoulders, feeling them, joy pressing on his heart. The dream was no longer a dream; the lovely mirage had become a real presence in his embrace. He felt an overwhelming desire to gaze at her face, and gently he pressed his fingers against her chin to raise her head. She said his name with a brightness that enveloped them both. He slowly brought his face to hers, slowly his lips searched out hers, as if he wanted to take the moment in completely, but withheld it, fearing that it might end. Their lips trembled, and a trancelike bliss enveloped them. Then they heard footsteps out in the street, a heavy, regular tramp. The trance vanished. Layla’s face stiffened, her eyes fierce with hatred. Husayn straightened, shook his head as if awakening from a dream to a dismal reality. Layla turned and went to the window, while Husayn shut the door to the apartment and followed her.

Carefully, Layla pushed aside a bit of curtain. She saw an English patrol in the empty street; she felt a void in her heart, a hole, as if a blade had suddenly pierced her. Her hand knocked against the window as she dropped the curtain into place. The glinting gold ring had struck the glass with a clink. Layla spread her fingers, staring astonished at her engagement ring, as if she had forgotten that it occupied her hand. She pulled the curtain back again, again the blade stabbed her heart, and she whispered, following the patrol with her eyes as it almost vanished, “This isn’t the end, Husayn, is it.”

His voice held a note of disbelief. “This isn’t the first time you’ve asked me that question, Layla.” She smiled lightly and turned to face him. “It isn’t a question, Husayn. I’m just confirming a fact.” Calmly she sat down. His gaze focused on her face, his attention drawn by something he had never seen in her eyes, even when she had been at her most fiery. He thought he saw an assured and peaceful confidence there, that rare and amazing blend reflected only in the eyes of a person who has found the way—a person who knows, through experience, that the way is only found in the strength that allows one to stand by what one believes is right.

He spoke gently, coming nearer. “You’ve changed, Layla.”

She shrugged lightly. “Who doesn’t change, Husayn?” Her gaze settled on him a moment and her voice shook slightly as she said, “Now what do we do?”

The words were about to rush from his mouth; he thought at first that she was referring to their future together, then the words stopped on his tongue as he realized with his wonderful capacity to understand her that she meant something else, something bigger. After a pause he said, “The leadership is taking everything into account, and the resistance has really begun its work.”

“What about you? Are you part of it?”

He nodded without speaking. She leaned her head forward and said, “And me? Can I help with anything?”

His gaze settled on the gold ring on her finger. And he said, provokingly, “Can you?”

“Do you have any doubts about it?”

His features relaxed into a smile, and he shook his head. In a whisper pulsing with feeling, he said, “All my life I have believed in you.”

Her eyes shone with tears. “Even when I didn’t believe in myself, Husayn?”

But something kept pulling Husayn’s gaze to the ring. He could not keep the displeasure from his voice. “And what will you do right now?”

She stood up. “I’m coming with you.” When she saw the astonishment in his face she smiled. “I want to join the resistance. Can’t you suggest my name?”

He smiled and shook his head in wonder. “Enough surprises today. My nerves can’t take any more.” She laughed, and said in childish stubbornness, “Are you going to put my name up for it or not?”

Husayn said, testing the extent of her mettle, “It isn’t that easy, Layla. It isn’t a question of a day or two. The resistance might go on for a long time. You might have to be in hiding for a few months.”

She turned. “I’ll get my coat.”

He put his hand on her shoulder to stop her, turned her gently to him, and said, focusing his gaze on hers, “And your family, Layla?”

“Mahmud can tell them I’m fine.”

Husayn sighed with relief. Layla turned again and went into her room. Gloom spread across his face, as if an obstacle lay in his path. She came out of her room, a white overcoat over her white wool dress. His face lit up when he saw her, as if his fears had vanished and his dreams were to be realized.

“C’mon, let’s go,” Layla said. She walked before him to the open door.