按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
no need for me。”
“Agreed； but he’s giving in to me because of you。 If they kill me； he might
be afraid to continue on。”
“In that case； he won’t be able to marry me；” said my clever daughter；
smiling。
126
Where did I e up with the detail about her smiling？ During the entire
conversation； I noticed nothing except an occasional glimmer in her eyes。 We
were standing tensely facing one another in the middle of the room。
“Do you municate with each other； exchange signals？” I asked； unable
to contain myself。
“How could you even think such a thing？”
A long agonizing silence passed。 A dog barked in the distance。 I was slightly
cold and shuddered。 The room was so black now that we could no longer see
each other； we could each only sense the other’s presence。 We abruptly
embraced with all our might。 She began to cry； and said that she missed her
mother。 I kissed and stroked her head； which indeed smelled like her mother’s
hair。 I walked her to her bedchamber and put her to bed next to the children
who were sleeping side by side。 And as I reflected back over the last two days； I
was certain that Shekure had corresponded with Black。
127
I AM CALLED BLACK
When I returned home that night； ably evading my landlady—who was
beginning to act like my mother—I sequestered myself in my room and lay on
my mattress； giving myself over to visions of Shekure。
Allow me the amusement of describing the sounds I’d heard in Enishte’s
house。 On my second visit after twelve years； she didn’t show herself。 She did
succeed； however； in so magically endowing me with her presence that I was
certain of being； somehow； continually under her watch； while she sized me
up as a future husband； amusing herself all the while as if playing a game of
logic。 Knowing this； I also imagined I was continually able to see her。 Thus was
I better able to understand Ibn Arabi’s notion that love is the ability to make
the invisible visible and the desire always to feel the invisible in one’s midst。
I could infer that Shekure was continually watching me because I’d been
listening to the sounds ing from within the house and to the creaking of
its wood boards。 At one point； I was absolutely certain she was with her
children in the next room； which opened onto the wide hallway…cum…
anteroom； I could hear the children pushing； shoving and sparring with each
other while their mother； perhaps； tried to quiet them with gestures；
threatening glances and knit brows。 Once in a while I heard them whispering
quite unnaturally； not as one would whisper to avoid disturbing someone’s
ritual prayers； but affectedly； as one would before erupting in a fit of laughter。
Another time； as their grandfather was explaining to me the wonders of
light and shadow； Shevket and Orhan entered the room； and with careful
gestures obviously rehearsed beforehand； proffered a tray and served us coffee。
This ceremony； which should’ve been Hayriye’s concern； was arranged by
Shekure so they could observe the man who might soon bee their father。
And so； I paid a pliment to Shevket： “What nice eyes you have。” Then； I
immediately turned to his younger brother； Orhan—sensing that he might
grow jealous—and added； “Yours are as well。” Next； I placed a faded red
carnation petal； which I’d fast produced from the folds of my robe； onto the
tray and kissed each boy on the cheeks。 Later still； I heard laughter and giggling
from within。
Frequently； I grew curious to know from which hole in the walls； the closed
doors； or perhaps； the ceiling； and from which angle； her eye was peering at
me。 Staring at a crack； knot or what I took to be a hole； I’d imagine Shekure
situated just behind it。 Suddenly； suspecting another black spot； and to
128
determine whether I was justified in my suspicion—even at the risk of being
insolent toward my Enishte as he continued his endless recital—I’d stand up。
Affecting all the while the demeanor of an attentive disciple； quite enthralled
and quite lost in thought； in order to demonstrate how intent I was upon my
Enishte’s story； I’d begin pacing in the room with a preoccupied air； before
approaching that suspicious black spot on the wall。
When I failed to find Shekure’s eye nesting in what I had taken to be a
peephole； I’d be overe by disappointment； and then by a strange feeling of
loneliness； by the impatience of a man uncertain where to turn next。
Now and then； I’d experience such an abrupt and intense feeling that
Shekure was watching me； I’d be so absolutely convinced I was within her
gaze； that I’d start posing like a man trying to show he was wiser； stronger and
more capable than he really was so as to impress the woman he loved。 Later；
I’d fantasize that Shekure and her boys were paring me with her
husband—the boys’ missing father—before my mind would focus again upon
whichever variety of famous Veian illustrator about whose painting
techniques my Enishte was waxing philosophic at the moment。 I longed to be
like these newly famed painters solely because Shekure had heard so much
about them from her father； illustrators who had earned their renown—not
through suffering martyrdom in cells like saints； or through severing the heads
of enemy soldiers with a mighty arm and a sharp scimitar； as that absent
husband had done—but on account of a manuscript they’d transcribed or a
page they’d illuminated。 I tried very hard to imagine the magnificent pictures
created by these celebrated illustrators； who were； as my Enishte explained；
inspired by the power of the world’s mystery and its visible blackness。 I tried
so hard to visualize them—those masterpieces my Enishte had seen and was
now attempting to describe to one who had never laid eyes on them—that；
finally； when my imagination failed me； I felt only more dejected and
demeaned。
I looked up to discover that Shevket was before me again。 He approached
me decisively； and I assumed—as was customary for the oldest male child
among certain Arab tribes in Transoxiana and among Circassian tribes in the
Caucasus mountains—that he would not only kiss a guest’s hand at the
beginning of a visit； but also when that guest left。 Caught off guard； I
presented my hand for him to kiss。 At that moment； from somewhere not too
far away； I heard her laughter。 Was she laughing at me？ I became flustered and
to remedy the situation； I grabbed Shevket and kissed him on both cheeks as
though this were what was really expected of me。 Then I smiled at my Enishte
129
as though to apologize for interrupting him and to assure him that I meant no
disrespect； while carefully drawing the child near to check whether he bore his
mother’s scent。 By the time I understood that the boy had placed a crumpled
scrap of paper into my hand； he’d long since turned his back and walked some
distance toward the door。
I clutched the scrap of paper in my fist like a jewel。 And when I understood
that this was a note from Shekure； out of elation I could scarcely keep from
grinning stupidly at my Enishte。 Wasn’t this proof enough that Shekure
passionately desired me？ Suddenly； I imagined us engaged in a mad frenzy of
lovemaking。 So profoundly convinced was I that this incredible event I’d
conjured was imminent that my manhood inappropriately began to rise—
there in the presence of my Enishte。 Had Shekure witnessed this？ I focused
intently on what my Enishte was explaining in order to redirect my
concentration。
Much later； while my Enishte came near to show me another illustrated
plate from his book； I discreetly unfolded the note； which smelled of
honeysuckle； only to discover