The Parisian - Isabella Hammad Page 0,18

and his dark brow and eyes—these were the only signs that he was what her father would call “Semitic.” If she hadn’t known she might have guessed he was Italian.

“How are you?” she called.

“Quite tired, but I am well. I have walked from the Faculty, it was beautiful. I am afraid I have interrupted you bathing.”

“Not at all, I was going to come in. It is getting cold.”

She stood, and as the chill air whipped her wet legs and flapped the bathing suit on her stomach she saw the whites of Midhat’s eyes.

“Let me get my towel, I am sorry. One moment. Perhaps then, would you like to take a coffee? One moment, Monsieur Midhat.”

She tried not to run. She crossed the lawn, lowering her eyes as she wrapped the top edge of the towel over the fabric on her breasts; wet feet on stone, on floorboard, on carpeted stair. In her bedroom she peeled out of the swimming costume, rubbed the damp off her body, and dressed quickly in a cotton house gown. At a dignified pace, she descended the stairs. Georgine was already bringing in the coffee, and curtsied as Jeannette passed.

“Alors,” Jeannette exhaled, meeting Midhat’s sidelong glance. He was sitting very upright on the sofa. She chose a wicker chair and drew her sleeve out of the way to pour the coffee into two cups. “Tell me, Monsieur Midhat. I haven’t asked about your family at all. Your parents, are they … do you have siblings?”

“My father is a merchant. From Nablus. A merchant of textiles and clothing. He is quite successful.”

“How lovely. And your mother?”

“My mother was from near Nablus, a town called Jenin, but she died, Allah yirhamha, when I was very small.”

“Oh dear, I’m so sorry. But you are like me then, Monsieur Midhat. We are both without our mothers.”

“My mother died from sill, in Arabic, la tuberculose, in French.”

“That’s very sad, I am extremely sorry.”

“How did your mother die?”

“I was also young.” She looked through the doors at the terrace, where her wet footprints slashed the paving stones. “She was ill, also. A problem with her heart, I don’t know precisely. Perhaps when you are a great doctor you will be able to explain it to me!” Her mouth smiled, her eyes were closed.

“Yes I do hope I will be a doctor,” said Midhat. “Sometimes, in Nablus, men do not always profess as they studied.”

“Profess?”

“Profess … comme une profession.”

She faced the garden again. The silence lengthened.

“What is Nablus like?”

“Nablus is a little village. It’s a town, I mean a city. It’s not large but we call it a city. What I mean is, even when you leave Nablus, you take it with you. Do you know what I mean?”

“I think so.”

“I don’t mean I don’t love Nablus. I do. Only, everyone knows about everyone else’s life. It can be a little …” He made a clawing gesture at his throat until she smiled, albeit weakly. “I’m sure that is why my father likes it in Cairo.”

“Egypt?”

He nodded.

“And for you, you chose medicine …”

“That was his choice, my father’s. He founded, I mean he is one of the founders of, a new hospital in Nablus. He considers it very respectable, you know. But I am also very content from it. I love science, I always loved science. So it is my choice too. I am excited by …” He looked down, thinking of the words. “The work is so exact, so particular. But,” he sighed, “one has to be too detached, you know.”

To his surprise, Jeannette erupted with laughter. He looked up to see her face glowing, her whole body rippling with amusement. When after several moments she was still laughing, he tentatively joined in, watching her carefully to know when to stop. An abrupt little cough was the signal, and as she sighed back into silence and he dropped his smile, it occurred to him that she could not possibly have known he was thinking of the dissection, or of the legless man he saw that morning in the clinic, neither of which seemed to him very funny. He looked at her still-smiling eyes and tried to imagine what she thought about him.

“I have been walking with Laurent regularly,” he said.

She squinted and drew her cup to her lips.

“We walk to the botanical gardens, sometimes we walk into town. He shows me the city. I enjoy him.”

Jeannette chuckled again but without sound, pinching her lips together, examining her fingers as they turned the