The Jokers - Albert Cossery [35]
“Well, yes. I’m going to send a letter to all the papers asking them to set up a subscription to pay for a statue of the governor.”
Soad clapped her hands at the announcement of this plan; again she tried to stand up, wanting to demonstrate her enthusiasm, but Heykal held her down firmly and ordered her to remain calm.
“Listen,” he went on, “that’s not all. You’ve got a part to play in this. Do you know who’s going to sign this letter? Your father, the most eminent of the governor’s friends.”
“What a devil! How I love you!” She threw her arms around his neck and covered his face in tiny kisses.
“And I’ll need to see your father’s signature in order to imitate it. Can you get me one?”
“That’s easy. I’ll have him write me a check. It won’t be the first time—that’s how he gives me money.”
“Excellent!” exclaimed Heykal. “I’m so proud! Ask him for a check made out to cash so I can include it with one of the letters. I’ll send that one to the most influential paper—it’ll make the letter all the more believable. After that, the rest of the papers will publish the letter without question.”
Soad suddenly doubled over, screeching with vicious laughter—the laughter of a woman scorned, seeking revenge.
“Ah! what a fool! If he only knew!”
“Who?” said Heykal.
“My father. Do you think he’ll commit suicide? Oh, I hope he does, I hope he does!”
“Your personal problems don’t interest me,” Heykal said. “You must understand that.”
The fierce hatred in the girl’s laugh reminded Heykal once again of the abyss between them. Women loved deliriously, but they hated with the violence of an unchained beast. And hatred was an emotion that Heykal lacked completely. His profound distrust of humanity in general made him loathe to dignify with his hate the buffoons who strutted around on the world’s stage, proudly proclaiming their crimes. He looked at the girl’s disappointed face; she seemed to be waiting for a word or a caress from him to renew her spirits. But he was silent. He was thinking about another face, a face of extraordinary serenity in which hatred had been abolished forever. All the tenderness in him went out toward the face of the old madwoman, Urfy’s mother. Her insanity was what he admired more than anything; she existed on a plane free of corruption, an extraterrestrial universe of inviolable purity, immune to the usual abominations. Heykal, who cared about nothing, was jealous of Urfy’s crazy mother, this sublime being buried in a basement in an unsavory part of town; the schoolmaster possessed the one thing that could actually move Heykal. He had to hide it from Urfy, painfully aware as he was that his friend would never understand such a special veneration. He knew that Urfy secretly reproached him for his frequent visits to the old woman’s room, that he suspected him of a diabolical regard for his mother. How could he know that these were Heykal’s only moments of true feeling, when his devotion and kindness flowed freely and he was capable, at last, of boundless self-sacrifice? Faced with this old madwoman, a human reject, he was blinded by tears of tenderness and love. But he would rather endure Urfy’s terrible suspicions than confess to the infinite sweetness of those moments when he gave in to the force of that sad face. The situation was awkward, and it troubled him so much that he’d greatly reduced the frequency of his visits to the old lady. Now just the thought of her face—like a martyred child’s—could trigger the tremor in his soul that had become indispensable to his happiness.
There was a hint of unrest in Heykal’s silence, and Soad instinctively picked up on it. She fidgeted on the rope, sighing, anxious for him to come back to her. The music picked up again in the distance, bright and clear in the night.
“Why don’t we go dance,” she finally said. “My father is busy with the governor, he won’t notice a thing. It’s been so long since I’ve danced with you.”
“No, it’s impossible,” said Heykal. “Go back to your father. I’ve got to go to the casino.”
“Will I see you after?”
“I