In the Spider's Room by Muhammad Abdelnabi

Author:Muhammad Abdelnabi
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: The American University in Cairo Press
Published: 2018-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

22

About ten days after i came out of prison, I told Prince I wanted to see my daughter, little Badriya. That was before I embarked on my program of therapy and writing, or dared to leave the hotel room in the evening on aimless rambles.

When Prince called Shireen and made an appointment, I was overcome with hesitation and fear. I was still hesitant when Prince’s car was taking us slowly through the downtown traffic. I didn’t know how I could face Shireen after everything that had happened. I had seen her only once during the trial, in the first session, a few weeks before the divorce took place.

We drove into Garden City from the corniche. Although I had been away no more than a few months, I was almost overcome by tears when I saw the familiar buildings of the elegant neighborhood and the trees in the streets. When we stopped in front of the building, I froze in my seat next to Prince.

“Would you like me to come up with you?” he asked.

I gave him a quick nod, grateful for his suggestion. While I was checking that my pen and notebook were in my jacket pocket, I heard the voice I loved to hear. “Papa, Papa!” it cried.

I turned and all my hesitation suddenly vanished. It was little Badriya, five years old, with frizzy hair framing her round head like a shiny black halo, waiting for me in front of the building and trying to break free from the hand of her nanny. Without a moment’s hesitation, I opened the car door and ran to her, picked her up, and kissed every part of her face and head that my lips could reach. Although I tried to control myself, I broke into tears when we were in the hallway. Badriya just lifted the sunglasses off my eyes and wiped my tears away. “Don’t cry, Papa,” she said. “You’ll get better and get to speak again. I pray to God for you every day. Not just me but Somaya too. Isn’t that right, Somaya?”

“That’s right, my dear,” said the nanny as she pressed the elevator button.

As I carried Badriya into the lift, she sneaked a peek at Prince. “Who’s that, Papa?” she whispered in my ear. “A friend of yours? Uncle Sallam is visiting too.”

It was true—I was no longer Shireen’s husband, so one of her relatives had to attend our meeting, or maybe Shireen’s kindly uncle had something he wanted to say to me, accounts of some kind to be settled or an indirect apology for the method they had adopted when they sought a divorce. The elevator moved and Badriya didn’t stop whispering in my ear about what had happened to her during my absence from the house, about the time she had spent with her mother in her grandfather’s house, and about playing in the street outside with the kids there. She said something about one of the friends she had met there and laughed, and in

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