Selected Detective
HAVE DINNER TOGETHER

Once at home that night Khalifa just remembered that they would be the arrival of guests for dinner.

“They'll be here in a few minutes!” his wife Zenab said as she walked in from the front door, delivering to him a tray filled with Torshi and Babaghanoush, then disappeared in the middle of their small, crowded apartment.

“Where have you been all this time?”

“From Karnak,” replied Khalifa, while lighting a cigarette.

“Job order.” There was the sound of clinking dishes and Zenab reappeared, plucking a cigarette from her mouth, kissing it softly on her lips and slipping the cigarette again on her lips. Zenab was wearing an embroidered cotton caftan, the top three buttons were deliberately opened to reveal the tip of her large chest. He had braided his charcoal-like black hair on his back almost to the waist.

“You look beautiful,” said.

“And you,” reply with a smile, tickle his ears,

“looks terrible. Why don't you shave while I finish this with Batah? And don't wake our baby. I just put him to bed.” He kissed her again, this time on the cheek, then returned to the kitchen.

“Where is Ali?” he asked his wife.

“Together with his friends. And wear clean clothes yes, all the collar is very dirty.” He walked into the bathroom, unbuttoned his shirt and stood in front of a mirror above the sink, staring at his own reflection. Zenab really looks terrible.His eyes are hazy and swollen, cheekbones protrude like the ribs of a donkey who is not eating enough and his skin is gray unhealthy, like the surface of a clogged canal.

He threw his cigarette out the window, turned the cold water faucet and bowed, washed his face with water, then stood back up and looked at his eyes.

“What will you do, eh?” he asked his shadow.

“What will you do?” He stared at the reflection in the mirror for a while longer, shaking his head as if he saw something there he did not like, then quickly shaved and headed for the bedroom. Then, he drips cologne on the face and changes his shirt. He had just buttoned the top button, bent over to kiss the sleeping baby Joseph in a swing, when the doorbell rang.

“We are here!” Husni's brother-in-law's voice sounded from outside the front door. Khalifa.

“Whatever you do in life,” he whispers to his baby, swiping his nose over a soft and smooth forehead, “promise me you won't be like your uncle!”

“Come, you two!” said that blaring voice. “What are you doing there? Or don't I ask?” There was a raucous grunt as his wife, Sama, Zenab's older brother, laughed at her husband's jokes, which the husband always told her whenever the doorbell was not answered in nanosecond time after he had pulled.

“God, please us,” said Khalifa, heading to the living room to welcome their guests. There were six of them: Khalifa, Zenab, Sama, Husni, and two friends of Zenab from Cairo; Nawal, a petite and passionate woman who taught classical Arabic at Cairo University; and Taufiq, Mashrabiya, the link is referred to by everyone as the Google eye because its large frying-shaped eyes are unusual. They surround a small table in the living room, and Batah, Khalifa's daughter, provides food, and, which he likes to do because it makes him look mature. Like his mother, he also wore a embroidered kaftan and let his long hair down his back.

“I have to say, Batah, you look more beautiful every time I see you,” said the same when the girl put the bowl of chicken cooking.

“I'm happy with the kaftan. I bought one like that for Ama. Three hundred pounds, believe it not?” Unlike Batah, Sama and Husni girls are short, plump and lazy. The difference her mother made to make her look better was to make sure that the girl always wore more expensive clothes than her cousin.

“He looks just like you at the same age,” said Nawal, smiling at Zenab. I guess the men are chasing you all the time huh, Batah?”

“If I was a little younger, I would also chase after you!” taufiq said, laughing.

She smiled shyly and left the room. “It's time you started thinking about the husband for her,” husni said as she sipped soup.

“For God!” Zenab. “He's only fourteen years.”

“It's never too early to think about this. The plan ahead is the key. Always looking to the future. Take edible oil.” husni works in the edible oil business, and never misses the opportunity to bring the conversation in that direction.

“When we relaunched our sunflower range last year, it was only with 18 months of careful and careful preparation. And results? Eight percent increase in sales and Best Domestic oil awards. You wouldn't be able to achieve that success without thinking ahead.”

He sipped his soup again. “We also get compliments for peanut oil. Sweet selling in stores like fried beans.”

Everyone was impressed, finished the soup and began to enjoy the main menu, the goat tarly served with peas, okra, rice and potatoes. The conversation turned to a mutually beneficial friendship, then recent Cairo football between Zamelak and al-Ahli, then politics.husni and Nawal hotly debated the American war on terrorism that continues.

“So what do you mean?” says Husni. “they did nothing after September 11th? just let them off just like that?”

“I said that before they start bombing other countries, they have to check their own homes.I mean, why when there are other countries in the world supporting terrorism they are attacked, but when America does, they justify it as ‘foreign policy?’” Khalifa silently heard all these conversations, enjoyed her food, sometimes interrupting with strange comments. But most of it was washed away in his own mind. the corpse in Malqata, Jansen's collection of antiquities, the meeting with hasani, the, the curious encounter at Karnak all crammed into his mind like a shadow in a room full of mirrors.

And behind everything, like the back of the stage, it's always the same even when the events before it changed, and the tattoos on the woman's arm, the triangle and the five figures. Like the markings you get on the meat to show its origin.

“Want mutton again?” Zenab's voice was ringing in his ears. He's holding Torly's bowl.

“What? oh no, thank you.”

“So, what do you think of him, Yusuf?” Taufiq was looking at him expectantly.

“maaf?” Khalifa.

“He's been miles from here,” said Nawal laughing.

“Perhaps thinking about tombs and hieroglyphs!”

“Or female?” husni teased, while receiving a hand pinch from the wife on her waist.

“Al-mulatham,” says Taufiq. “What do you think of suicide bombings?” Khalifa drank her Coca-Cola as a devout Muslim she did not drink alcohol and pushed her chair back and lit a cigarette.

“I guess anyone who kills innocent civilians with complete composure is disgusting.”

“Israelis also coldly kill Palestinians, but no one complains about that,” Nawal said. “See, what happened yesterday? Two children killed by Israeli helicopter.”

“It still can't justify it!” answer Khalifa.

“What does it mean to seek vengeance by killing more children?”

“But what other ways do they have to defend themselves?” taufiq.

“they face the most powerful army in the Middle East, the fourth strongest army in the world. What else do they have to do?” “I agree that this is terrible, but that is what people do when they have been systematically treated brutally for 50 years!”

“As the Palestinian Authority achieves in human rights record,” Zenab said. “Like us who got that big record.”

“That is not the essence,” said Taufiq. “esensi is people do not stick explosives on the waist and detonate it themselves just for the sake of the explosion alone.they do that out of desperation.”

“I am not defending Israel,” said Khalifa, holding a lighter to ignite Nawal's cigarette. “I just thought ... yahh, as Zenab said, it does not help the situation.”

“You're telling me that you don't feel a little happy when you hear a bomb go off?” ask Taufiq. “That's the part of you that doesn't feel it's appropriate’.” Khalifa stared at the table, her cigarette smoke rolling up.

“I'll tell you what I feel,” he said. “And there's pudding. Is that Umm ali that I smell, Zenab? I want to help Batah prepare food. It really was a fun dinner.” It was past midnight before they finally went to sleep. Zenab fell asleep shortly after. Khalifa turned left and right, then turned around, listening to baby Joseph's breath in a swing by her side, observing the rays of parallel lights sneaking up on the reflected ceiling of the car lights passing below, while feeling his own heartbeat.

After twenty minutes, he got up and walked into the front room and turned on the light contacts on the wall. The mini fountain in the middle of the floor rattled. He squeezed out another contact, illuminated a series of multicolored rays arranged around the plastic pool inside which was the fountain, and sat on the floor with his back against the wall, which was resting on it, rubbing eyes. He built the fountain himself, to add a little color to their crowded apartment. It is not the largest work of art in the world the water is not well pumped and the tiles around the pool are not arranged in parallel but he still feels comfort when he looks at it, hear the rhythmic fall of the water and see the light split on its surface.

For some time he sat in silence, then tilted his body to the right and pressed the “play” button on a recording device on a wooden table. The melodious voice of Umm Kulthum enveloped her, reciting a song about love and loss:

Your eyes brought me to the days that passed they taught me to regret the pain of the past Everything I saw before my eyes saw you

Is it just a wasted life. How not, When you are my life, your light is the dawn of my heart?

Before I met you my heart knew nothing of happiness but the pain and anguish Something moved behind Khalifa, it was Zenab who came closer to him. his eyes were still grim and his long, slender legs poked out from the lower folds of the Khalifa shirt he wore to sleep. Zenab bowed and kissed Khalifa. The blouse only reached his thigh so that Khalifa could see the shadow of his pubic hair. Zenab then sat on the floor beside Khalifa with her head resting on the man's shoulder, her black hair falling on his chest like a dark waterfall.

“You don't enjoy tonight, ‘kan?” zenab said while still sleepy.

“I enjoyed it,” protest. “night of the...”.

“boring,” said. “I can see that in your eyes. I know you, Yusuf.” He stroked her hair.

“forgive me,” he said. “Many things I'm thinking about.”

“Work?” He nodded, enjoying the friction of the woman's breasts on his arm. “You want to talk to me about it?” He lifted up, but said nothing. The silver band of Umm Kulthum's voice echoed between them. You are more precious than my days You are more precious to me than my dreams Bring me to your good Far from this world, far, far, only you and I Far, far, far, just the two of us “You know this reminds me of what?” zenab said, shaking his hand and rubbing his finger on the scar on Khalifa's wrist as a result of being bitten by a dog when he was a child.

“days when we go to Jabal Al-Silsilla. When you catch fish for our lunch, and we swim in the Nile. You remember?”

Khalifa smiled. “How could I have forgotten? Your feet are tangled with seaweed and you think it is being attacked by crocodiles, yes ’kan?”

“And you got mired in the mud and broke your new pants. I've never heard such an oath.” Khalifa laughed and kissed her cheek. Zenab drew closer to Khalifa, and wrapped his arms around her waist.

“What's the problem, Yusuf? You're so far away tonight. And also last night. What's bothering you?” He nodded and stroked her hair.

“Nothing.just an office problem.”

“Tell me,” said. “maybe I can help.” Khalifa remained silent for some time, gazing at the splash of the fountain, then leaning back her head against the wall, with her eyes moving increasingly to the ceiling.

“I have done something terrible, Zenab,” he said slowly. “And I don't know how to fix it. Or actually I know, but I'm scared.”

“Nothing you did badly, Yusuf,” whispered, releasing his arms and holding her husband's cheek.

“You're a good man. I know this, our children know this too, God knows this.”

“No, Zenab. I am weak and fearful, and have failed you. I have disappointed myself.” He raised his hand and rubbed his temple. Then it stays still for some time, being split apart by the sound of tape and soft bubbles of shower water. Then he began to speak again, at first slowly, then more quickly, telling the whole story, Piet Jansen, hannah Schlegel, muhammad Jamal, the meeting at Karnak, all of them. Zenab sat and listened, saying nothing, his hands caressing her husband's face and neck. Her soft breath touched her husband's shoulder.

“I was so afraid to say anything back then,” he said as soon as he finished storytelling. “I'm still young, new staff at that station. I don't want to shake the boat. I let them accuse innocent people because I don't have enough guts to talk.

And now .. I'm still scared. Afraid of what would happen if I started digging again, if I went back to that case. A lot of irregularities here, Zenab. I can feel it. And I don't know if that's a decent risk for my job to..” He stopped, shaking his head.

“For what? A man like muhammad Jamal?”

“That, yes, and .. yahh, as Chief hasani said, Jansen is dead. Won't make any practical difference to the results of the investigation.” Zenab looked into the man's eyes.

“There is something else,” he said. “I can see it in you. I can feel it. What are you thinking, Yusuf?”

“Nothing, Zenab. No. just...” He bent his legs to his chest and thrust his body forward, putting his forehead on his knees.

“Woman is Israeli,” whispered. “Jews. Look at what they're doing, Zenab. Is it worth it, I asked myself. Are all problems to be something worthy of being accepted by someone like that?” The words just glided, without him noticing and thinking right. However, when he had revealed it, he realized that deep inside it turned out to be what had really bothered him all this time; not only now, but also fifteen years ago, he said, as he sat watching Muhammad Jamal being examined by Hasani and Chief Mahfuz. That to speak would not only mean risking his career for the sake of a lower-class criminal, but also this was what made him stop long enough to think, until now for the sake of someone from a country with a faith that he had been educated to look down on him. this has made him ashamed, bigotry that is very embarrassing, he said, because he has tried to be a tolerant person, judging each person for his deeds and not his background, nationality or faith. But it's very difficult. From the early years of his life he had been taught that Israel was the devil, that the Jews were trying to take over the world, that they were rude, fighting, arrogant, greedy, greedy, who committed unspeakable atrocities against his Muslim brother.

“they are evil,” said his father when he was a child, “all of them. They drove people out of their land and stole the land from them. they want to destroy the people, beware of them, Joseph. Always beware of Jews.” As he grew up and his circle of experience expanded, he later saw that it was certainly not as black-and-white as was said. Not all Jews support the oppression of the Palestinians; being an Israelite does not necessarily make you a monster; the Jews themselves have suffered tremendously as a nation.

However, despite the softening of his gaze, he was unable to completely erase the ingrained thing within him from the very beginning of his life. In discussions with friends and colleagues, once the subject has turned to it he will try to take a moderate stance, as he did at dinner together. However, deep down, in a place that only he knew, the old bigotry still remained, a dark stain that however strong he tried, he said, it still can't completely eliminate it. This is not something he is proud of. He knew that this reduced him as a human being. But he could no longer dispose of it as he could against his own bone marrow, which dictated his actions fifteen years ago, and it seemed to be the same now.

“When Taufik asked me tonight if I was happy when a bomb went off in Israel,” he said slowly, “does part of me not think, ‘that's what you deserve’ Yahh, , the truth is that yes, I also think so, Zenab. I didn't say it, but I thought so. I can't hold myself back.” He shook his head, embarrassed to tell his wife such a thing, revealing many things about his secret.

“In this case, I feel as if I are two persons in one body. One knows that there is justice that falls horribly, that a woman is killed and the charges are dropped on the wrong person, and it is my duty to try to find the truth. But then, the other person had a stupid time towards him. Who cares that an old Jew died? why involve yourself in all problems? I hate myself for this, but this is how it is.” Zenab shifted her body back slowly, while looking at her, her eyes shrinking, her face wrapped in shadows as if covered in a thin scarf.

“We all have bad thoughts,” he said slowly. “Behavior is the most important.”

“But that's the essence, Zenab. I don't know if I can act. My mind was .. as if they were holding me back. This is easier for you. You come from a smart family and a good reader.Your parents have traveled everywhere, seen many other things in this world. You didn't grow up with all this prejudice. Meanwhile, when it is said to you that the Jews and the Israelites are evil demons, it is our duty as Muslims to hate them, that if we don't kill them then they're the ones who kill us it's hard to get away with it. Here he pointed at his forehead I knew that this was all wrong. And here too,” as he touches his chest. “But here” he moves his hand to the belly of “well inside here, I can't stop hating them. I can't seem to control my own emotions. Really scary to me.” Zenab grabbed her head and stroked her hair as well as the back of her neck. Khalifa felt the warmth of Zenab's thighs above her thighs.

“Did you tell my grandmother?” finally Zenab said, he massaged Khalifa's neck and shoulders.

“Grandpa Jamila.” Khalifa smiled. There is a fairly wide social gap between the Zenab family's successful business from the luxurious part of Cairo and his family, the farm laborers from the impoverished Giza street. Jamila's grandmother was the only one willing to take the risk by making her feel welcome, always put Khalifa next to her as they toured the family home and asked her all kinds of questions related to her interest in Egyptian history, a subject she was really very good at. When Jamila's grandmother passed away a few years ago, Khalifa felt sad, not upset, as she was at the loss of her own mother.

“Of course I still remember it.”

“There was something he told me, years ago when I was a kid. I don't even remember the context, but the words keep ringing in my mind, face always what you fear, Zenab. And always look for what you don't understand. Because that's how you grow up and become a better person.’ I never told you what you should do in your work, Yusuf, but that's what I think you should do in this.”

“But how?” his sigh. “I could not continue the investigation secretly without the knowledge of Chief Hasani.” Zenab took Khalifa by the hand and kissed her.

“I don't know how, Yusuf. All I know is that this case may have been sent to you to test you, and you cannot back out of it.”

“But this can cause a lot of problems.”

“We will handle it together. As we always do.” Khalifa looked at his wife. She's so beautiful, so strong.

“No other man has a better wife than this,” he said.

“And no woman has a better husband than you. I love you, Yusuf.” They look at each other affectionately and then, hug each other, kiss, gently at first and then passionately. His chest was pushed forward to Khalifa's chest and his legs were coiled at Khalifa's feet.

“Remember what we did that day in Jabal Al-Silsilla,” she whispered in her husband's ear, “After you fell into the mud and had to remove all your pants to wash?” Khalifa did not reply, immediately standing up, holding Zenab in her arms, taking her to the bedroom, leaving Umm Kulthum to sing on her own.

The pagutan lips increasingly tempestuous, and began to release their respective clothes.Slim body looks smooth. Khalifa began to move throughout the entire inch of Zenab's body, which seemed to close her eyes enjoying every touch from her husband.