Yalo by Elias Khoury

not comprehend. The misfortune was yearning, and God yearned for his servants through misfortunes, and perhaps this misfortune was a yearning of a special kind, as if God wanted something we knew nothing about.
    Of course, no one took what he said seriously, for Almighty God had not been diminished to the point of naming the old prelate the shepherdof his humble flock. But in spite of the scornful looks, Cohno Ephraim still dreamed of being head of the priesthood. White hair overtook him and old age preyed upon him, but he performed his prayers as usual, awaiting the moment of glory.
    The tailor arrived, thinking that he would joke with the cohno about becoming an archbishop, when he found himself facing the most difficult test of his life. The tailor Elias al-Shami was sixty years old and seemed eternally youthful; he sucked in his stomach to appear slender, and smiled broadly so that people could see his clean white teeth. The tailor was one of the first residents of Mseitbeh in Beirut to discover an Armenian dentist, Nobar Bakhshigian, and exchanged putting in a plate of false teeth for a set of permanent bridgework, which looked like real teeth.
    The tailor sat across from the cohno as he had been asked to do – “Come, my son, and sit before me.” He bowed his head, which he dyed with henna, producing a reddish result, and kissed the hand that resembled the branch of a dead tree, then heard a strange request and gave a strange reply.
    â€œYou love the girl, right?”
    The tailor did not understand the question, or claimed not to understand. “What girl, Abuna?” he asked.
    â€œYou love Gabrielle, my daughter Gaby. I know everything.”
    The tailor did not know what to say, because if he denied it he would seem vile to this elderly cohno , who was watching his only remaining daughter drifting into nothingness in her relationship with this man. But if he said yes, he had no way of guessing what the cohno would ask of him. So he just nodded his head downward in order to let the cohno understand whatever he wanted.
    â€œSo take her.”
    â€œ. . .”
    â€œI am telling you take her, what are you waiting for?”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œTake her, my son, I will take care of the legal aspect. I will divorce her from her husband, because he has been gone ten years now, and that way you can marry her.”
    â€œBut I am married.”
    â€œI’ll divorce you too.”
    â€œMe?”
    â€œYes, you.”
    â€œBut that is hard, Abuna, you know these things take time with Greek Orthodox.”
    â€œWe’ll make you Syriac, and that way I can divorce you in twenty-four hours.”
    â€œMe, Syriac?”
    â€œWhy, is there something wrong with the Syriac?”
    â€œI love the Syriac, Abuna, only . . .”
    â€œOnly what?”
    The cohno had told him to take her. The tailor kept his head bowed for a long time before answering.
    â€œWhere should I take her, Abuna?”
    â€œTake her home with you and live with her lawfully. You have to find a way to take her. What’s going on now is shameful, and a sin.”
    The two men did not speak for a long while, and sat immersed in a silence broken by Gabrielle when she came into the living room with a coffee tray.
    â€œSit down, my girl,” said the cohno .
    Gabrielle sat down, all her limbs trembling.
    â€œI told him to take you. I told him: If you love her, take her.” He gazed at Elias and asked him, “What do you say, my son?”
    â€œI don’t know,” answered Elias, after taking a sip of his rosewater-scented Turkish coffee.
    â€œWhat don’t you know?” asked the cohno .
    â€œI don’t know, Abuna, why don’t you take her yourself.” Elias’s reply came like a rattle from deep inside him.
    â€œWhat did you say?” asked the cohno .
    â€œI swear, I don’t know what I want to say.”
    â€œNo, please repeat what you said. I did not hear