Chicago by Alaa Aswany (story books to read .TXT) 📕

That night a new phase started between them. She started to yield her body to him with the utmost coldness; she would close her eyes and patiently suffer his heavy breaths and the disgusting stickiness of his body. The moments passed, heavy and painful, during which she fought off nausea until he was done and lay down on his back, panting and proud, as if he had won a military battle. She would then rush to the bathroom to throw up and cry from defeat, impotence, and pain. Afterward she felt aches all over her body, as if she had been given a sound beating. Her face changed after every such encounter, turning gloomy, flushed, and swollen.

Despite Marwa’s defeat in the sex battle, she persisted in rejecting the idea of having children. He kept after her insistently to have a child in America. He tried to convince her by every means he could muster; he would say to her, “You silly girl.”

“Please don’t speak to me like that.”

She would turn her face and he would get close to her, feigning affection, whispering in a hissing voice, “Listen to me, my love. If we have a child now, he would be a citizen and we will automatically get citizenship later on. People pay tens of thousands of dollars for an American passport and you are turning your back on this bounty?”

“Don’t you get tired of saying that? I don’t want to have a baby now and I cannot have one just to obtain an American passport.”

THAT NIGHT MARWA WAS RELAXING on the sofa in the living room, watching a soap opera on the Egyptian satellite channel, when she heard the doorbell ringing. Because she was not expecting anyone, she got up reluctantly, somewhat worried, remembering all the warnings she had often heard about opening the door to strangers in Chicago. She looked through the peephole and saw Safwat Shakir standing there, smiling. It didn’t take him long to say loudly, “Is Dr. Danana home?”

“No, he is not.”

“Sorry, madam. I came from Washington especially to meet him. My telephone, unfortunately, is not working. Can I come in and wait for him?”

She didn’t answer, so he went on persistently, “I want him for an important matter that cannot wait.”

She knew Safwat Shakir; she had seen him more than once at consulate receptions and had never trusted him. He always seemed to her to be arrogant and suspicious. But she knew that her husband respected him. She had no choice, so she opened the door and let him in. He was well dressed as usual and wore an expensive cologne. He shook her hand and sat in the nearest chair in the entryway. She sat in front of him, leaving the apartment door open. She telephoned Danana and told him and he assured her he would come right away. She had to show her guest some hospitality, so she made him a cup of tea and diplomatically but firmly stopped his repeated attempts to start a conversation with her. As soon as Danana arrived, she withdrew to her room. Danana did not pay any mind to her but gave his distinguished guest his undivided attention. He rushed to welcome him, panting (perhaps exaggerating to some extent to prove that he had run all the way there). He said with a flattering smile, “Welcome, sir. You’ve lit up Chicago.”

“I’m sorry I came without an appointment.”

“Your Excellency, please, you honor us any time you please.”

“Please apologize to the lady for the inconvenience.”

“On the contrary, sir. Marwa is happy you are here because she knows how much respect I have for you.”

Safwat sat back in his chair and said, “What I came here for is extremely important.”

“May it all be to the good, God willing.”

“First I have some questions.”

“At your service, sir.”

“Do you have any Egyptian Copts in the department?”

“There are no Copts in the histology department. They are in internal medicine, surgery, and physiology. The Medical Center at the University of Illinois in Chicago has only seven Copts, all of whom I know.”

Safwat took out of his jacket pocket a folded piece of paper that he slowly opened and handed over to Danana, who took it, read it with interest, then looked angry and said, “Obscene lies!”

“This is one of numerous broadsides that have been distributed last week. Keep it and read it when you have the time. The Copts in Exile are getting more and more active to a worrying degree. They attack Egypt and our revered president with insolence. Unfortunately the American administration listens to them.”

“They’re all traitors, agents on Israel’s payroll.”

Safwat Shakir bowed his head for a moment then spoke in a serious tone. “Israel has ties with only one organization. The rest of the Coptic organizations work on their own and raise their own money. They attack the regime to win gains for the Copts in Egypt.”

“That’s impossible, sir. Egypt does not give in to blackmail. Besides, seeking support from abroad is treason.”

Danana recited this quickly, as if it were a lesson he had memorized. Safwat nodded then asked in a serious tone of voice, “What do you know about Karam Doss?”

“He is a heart surgeon, a millionaire who lives in a posh mansion in Oak Park and is one of the leaders of Copts in Exile.”

“Write me a detailed report about him.”

“At your service.”

“I want comprehensive data and a situation assessment.”

“By all means.”

“As for that boy, Nagi Abd al-Samad, State Security has sent me a complete copy of his dossier. Watch out, he’s a troublemaker.”

Danana laughed loudly in a derisive tone and said, “That Nagi boy is up to no good. I know him from Egypt and I have prepared for him a program that you’d like, sir.”

Silence fell for a few moments, then Safwat sighed and said, “Now to the more important subject.”

Danana lit a cigarette and looked through his glasses in utmost attention to Safwat, who continued in