The Mirage by Naguib Mahfouz Page B

the carriage and went up to the second floor as my mother said in a near-whisper, “My heart is pounding so hard!” My grandfather rang the bell and opened the door. As we entered, I saw a girl and two young men, but before I’d had a chance to get a good look at them, two of the three came running up to my mother. Then all I could see was heartfelt embraces, and all I could hear were tearful sighs. I gaped at the three of them in perplexed, timid silence. The hugging went on for a long time, as did the crying.
    At last my grandfather intervened with a laugh, saying to my mother, “Meet your daughter’s husband, Sabir Effendi Amin!”
    The young man approached my mother and kissed her hand, and she kissed his forehead.
    Before long, however, I found everyone looking at me.
    Smiling through her tears, my mother said, “Your brother, Kamil.”
    My sister rushed over to me and pressed me to her bosom. Then she proceeded to kiss me warmly while I stood there in resignation, not moving a muscle and not uttering a word.
    “My Lord!” she cried joyfully. “You’re a young man! He looks just like you, Mama!”
    Then my brother gave me a squeeze and a kiss, saying happily, “What a shy young man he is!”
    Up till that moment I hadn’t taken a good look at any of their faces. Instead, I’d kept my head bowed, my forehead and my cheeks burning with self-consciousness. Then theytook us to the sitting room. My mother sat between Radiya and Medhat, my grandfather sat next to my brother-in-law, and my sister had me sit beside her.
    Drying her tears, my mother said, “Mercy! You were children when you were taken away from me, and here you are, all grown up! Praise and thanks be to God!”
    Moved by the occasion, my brother-in-law said, “What a tragic life it’s been for you! I thank God for letting me be the occasion for this reunion!”
    Long-felt yearnings came pouring out in animated conversation that seemed to know no end as memories and thoughts came over them in waves. Every one of them spoke of his worries and heartfelt concerns, and tears mingled with smiles. Every now and then there would be a glimmer of amazement in my mother’s eyes, as though she couldn’t believe that God had brought the family back together again after it had been scattered for so long. When they got so busy with each other that they forgot about me, I began to get over my shyness and regain my composure. Feeling myself now to be more or less alone, I breathed a sigh of relief. However, it wasn’t long before a sense of anxiety and distress came over me, and I began stealing glances at Radiya and Medhat. I was dazzled by my sister’s beauty. She was slightly shorter than my mother, with a whitish complexion and a figure that was full and voluptuous. Her face was an exact replica of my mother’s, and of my own as well, with her limpid green eyes and her delicate, straight nose. As for Medhat, he represented another type: stocky but not obese, with a round face and head, a fair but rosy complexion, and black eyes. Even though he was just eighteen, he exuded an air of masculinity and strength. He would break into loud laughter for the slightest reason, and he seemed happy and in robust health.
    After stealing a number of curious, interested glances in their direction, I felt drawn to them by a feeling of love and affection, and I was reassured by their buoyant spirit and conviviality. My sense of aloneness didn’t last long, as glances began coming my direction and efforts were made to draw me into the conversation and encourage me to share with them in their happiness. However, I went on not saying a word, content to do nothing but smile back at them. Everything around me was a cause for delight. Even so, I couldn’t seem to rid myself of a vague apprehension that more than once gave me the urge to leave.
    Radiya said to me warmly, “Yours was a difficult delivery. God knows how Mama suffered having you. Medhat and I were in the other