Watch Us Dance by Leila Slimani

Author:Leila Slimani [Slimani, Leila]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2023-06-20T00:00:00+00:00

Selim has disappeared.” On the other end of the line Mathilde was crying and Aïcha could not understand what her mother was saying. She had gone to the post office in Rabat to call her parents and let them know that she was planning to stay with Monette for a while longer. But as soon as she answered the phone Mathilde said: “Selim has disappeared” and Aïcha didn’t dare talk about herself. She asked questions. When had her brother last been home? Had they contacted his friends? Did they have any idea where he might have gone? Mathilde could answer her daughter with only sobs and sniffles. “He stole money from me. Can you believe it? He stole my money.” Aïcha said: “Have you called the police?” And Mathilde, her voice suddenly cold, replied: “The police? Of course not. We don’t wash our dirty laundry in public. Whatever you do, don’t mention this to anyone. If someone asks you, Selim is in Alsace and he’s fine.”

Mehdi was waiting for her outside, on a café terrace, under the arches on Avenue Allal Ben Abdellah. When she got back from the post office he suggested they go to his apartment on Rue de Baghdad, a few yards from the Bab er-Rouah. He had been thinking about this for days, imagining Aïcha sitting on his living room sofa, legs crossed, her long hands resting demurely on her knees. Or perhaps she would stand to take a closer look at the books in the bookcase he had built himself out of bricks and wooden planks. He would put on some music, a record by Sarah Vaughan or Billie Holiday. He would make her some tea and they would stay there, sitting side by side, in the white-hot sun-soaked living room. He would open the window that overlooked an old palace and he would hold her close to him, hugging her so tight that her ribs would crack like a walnut shell. He would try to find the words but would not say them. But no matter what he did, he felt sure she would understand. They had spent every day together for the past three weeks. They had kissed, hidden in the car, awaiting nightfall so that they could find some remote place, a beach or a corner of Henri’s garden. Not once had they had a living room to themselves, and of course Mehdi thought about it. About Aïcha’s naked skin. About the desire she aroused in him, about what it would be like. He didn’t want her to feel trapped or frightened. But the truth was he had no idea what she thought of sex. They had never talked about it and neither of them had ever dared ask the other about their past experiences. He drank his coffee, closing his eyes at each sip. He was taking so much pleasure from this anticipation that he hoped her telephone call would last forever. She had told him that her mother’s name was Mathilde and he didn’t know why but he had been impressed by that.

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