As Though She Were Sleeping Read Online Free Page B

bridegroom, said the first Wadiia, while the eyes of the second Wadiia looked them over, her eyebrows knitted in puzzlement. Which one is the groom? she asked.
    It’s this one, this one, said Wadiia I, pointing at the driver slumped into the sofa who was half asleep by this time.
    Me – I’m the groom, said Mansour.
    Pardon me, sir, I thought he was the groom because that’s what grooms are always like – ugly and old and bald. And they take the prettiest girls up to the rooms, ya husrati , we poor women! said Wadiia I.
    Wadiia, shut up! said the hotel owner, yawning.
    That’s the groom, I knew him right away, said Wadiia II, the darker one, and she grabbed Mansour by the arm to lead him to the room.
    And me? asked the driver.
    Just who are you? asked Wadiia I.
    I’m Hanna Araman, he said.
    Pleased to meet you – but still, who are you?
    He’s the chauffeur who drove us here and he needs to be taken care of, said Mansour.
    Wadiia I looked at Wadiia II and then at Khawaja George Massabki, who muttered, Room Six. Light the stove in Room Six. He turned to the married couple and wished them a good night.
    Khawaja George bent over the stove, put out the flame, and disappeared through a door at the far end of the reception hall. The three guests followed the two women up a long staircase and were delivered to facing rooms.
    Wadiia II opened the door to the first room and beckoned to the newlyweds while Wadiia I stood chatting in a low voice to the driver at the door to Room Six.
    Milia entered the spacious room and the first thing she saw was a very large bed. A mirror took up almost the whole of the facing wall. A square table sat in the middle of the room, draped in an orange tablecloth on which sat a bottle of champagne, two large rounds of thin flaky bread, and a plate holding little squares of white cheese. The bathroom was to the left of the bed; the stove close to the table was lit. Mansour locked the door. Milia could still hear the murmurs of the driver and the elder Wadiia, and she could hear their loud cackling as well.
    Milia would not retain a clear memory of what happened in that room. She saw Mansour taking off his coat and hanging it behind the door. She saw him walk over to the table, saw him work the cork in the bottle of champagne until it popped and the white foam spilled over into the two glasses he poured. He gave his bride a glass and raised his own.
    To you, my bride!
    Milia took a sip. She swallowed the white beads floating on the surface of her glass and felt a light dizziness swell up suddenly from her belly. She put the glass down on the table and said she wanted hot tea. But Mansour appeared not to have heard her. He took a bite of cheese on bread and prepared a morsel for his bride. She pushed his hand away and said she was not hungry, so he swallowed it whole. He drank the glass he had poured for himself in one gulp and poured another, and strange phantomlike shapes began to form in his eyes. Milia smiled, remembering her mother’s words about the foolishness that afflicts a man on his wedding night.
    The man took her by the hand and led her to the bed. She felt her throat dry up. This was the moment one knew was coming, and she must be brave.
    They sat on the edge of the bed. Mansour rested his head against her neck and then kissed it. A light shiver went through the body of the young newly married woman and she wanted to lie down. She leaned back a little and saw herself flying, engulfed in Mansour’s arms. Now he would pick her up in his arms and fly with her, before setting her down on the bed again and taking her.
    Milia leaned back on the bed and waited. The kisses moved away from her neck. The man seemed to be trembling hard. She wanted to hug him close to make this moment easier for him. But he jumped up and began to take off his clothes. That was the last thing Milia had expected. A groom standing in the center of the room taking off his clothes and tossing them onto the floor? His