The Last Rectangle Read online

  The main street was quiet now. It was tired after such a long afternoon, like we were. We walked northward up the street and towards its end. The waitress took out a sketchbook and wrote down a few words. Beethoven walked straight and with determination. The Monkey carried my skateboard and tried to ride it. I washed the chalk off my face in a small cool fountain and watched the colors go down the drain. I put my arm around the waitress’s waist on my left and she put hers on my shoulder. I grabbed Beethoven’s arm on my right. We walked on with the Monkey circling around us.

  Had someone been looking from the south end of the street at us and had that someone been conscious of the lines of perspective, he must have seen us getting smaller and smaller and smaller.

  1009

  My hut lies around a morning’s walk from the beach. It is in the center of a wide plain surrounded by green fields with no trees around it, a bit exposed to the wind and hot spells. Between this plain and the sea, there is a hill that I have to climb each day to get to the seashore. Covering the hill, there is a thick jungle which has no passages or roads in it, just minor pathways under thickets of trees and shrubs. These pathways lead nowhere by design. I got to know my way around them the many times I walked through them to and from the seashore but still I would often get lost and spend more time than I wanted to inside the jungle. To get out of the jungle and to the seaside, I have to rely on chance and the smell of the sea breeze. Once out of the jungle, I would have an unending view of the sea. Between the jungle and the sea there is a long and wide stretch of sand dunes, not very high, just hilly enough to keep a direct view of the sea. While passing through the jungle on my way back to my hut, I have to rely on the smell of the soil in the fields to lead me out of the confusing pathways.

  I had grown the habit of starting from my hut early in the morning to avoid the heat. I would reach the beach by late morning. Later in the afternoon, when it starts getting dark, I would make my way back.

  It was on one of those early morning walks during the time I was weaving through the minor pathways in the jungle that I heard a moaning, more like a wheezing mixed with a strained low howl. As I looked around trying to locate the source, the sound also moved around, making it difficult to track. So, I walked on. On my way back that afternoon, I was very attentive and heard the moaning again. It had the same intensity as I had heard in the morning but it was colored by the darkness which made it sound more forlorn.

  A few days later, in the morning, I saw something move. It was an apelike animal that was climbing a tree. He moved up the tree uneasily, trying various postures and eventually settled in the middle of two branches which forked out from the large trunk. He crossed his arms in his lap and started crying, convulsing with the low howls I had heard earlier. At least I thought it was an ape but looking closer, I saw part of his face and it had the jaw of a tiger with the eyes of a rooster over which grew a red and brown crown. He had the little ears of a hyena. He did not see me. Peeking from behind a tree with a few other trees between us, I saw his resting arms. One had the hooves of a gazelle while the other was webbed. So I moved around him slowly. I say him where it could have been her, so I shall call him or her 1009. As I moved around to get a clearer view of 1009, I could sometimes see it while at others it would be obscured by thick branches. I saw the skin on the right side and it was that of a leopard but then the left side was that of a python. 1009 never noticed me. I had to get to the beach and but could not tear myself away. I was glued. I waited there, more listening to 1009 than watching it. I stayed there all day long and did not go to the beach. By late afternoon, it was getting dark and I could hear 1009 but not see it so I tore myself away and walked back to my hut.

  I could not sleep that night, the vision of the wailing 1009 was spread over my open eyes. The wind blew lightly, ruffling the tall grass outside, making the sounds I always heard but tonight, I was searching them for the howls of 1009. I did not hear anything.

  A few days passed without my hearing or seeing 1009 till one day, I was walking back from the beach, looking around for signs of 1009 when I heard a bustle of leaves being stepped on and the crackling of broken branches as something swept my path from left to right. It was 1009 and I froze. 1009 then looked back, with a look so distant and calm that I lost my fear. The lower part of 1009’s face was that of a cat. The upper part was that of a large salmon with two large ears of a fox. 1009 then looked ahead and walked on, on all fours, the front paws those of a tiger while the hind paws were those of a moose. From the paws ascended four sinewy legs of a zebra and held the moving body of a gorilla.

  I decided to follow 1009 and so for sometime we meandered through the minor pathways. Once or twice, 1009 would stop and lift its wolf snout upwards till its oryx antlers almost touched its back and let out a howl with a sadness that shook the feathers of its vulture wings.

  I took another decision and that was to come closer to 1009. I walked a bit faster and caught up with the lilting gait of uneven paws. 1009 slowed down and looked back at me, this time with a surprised look that made its fox ears quiver. I came closer without any reaction from 1009. I walked by its side and hugged its furry neck of a jaguar. 1009 stopped howling. I could feel its heartbeat and hear it purring. I stroked its crown, massaged its shoulders and simply lay there, resting on its body. We stayed close for a while and without motion. Suddenly, 1009 got up and hobbled away on four antelope legs moaning as before but with intense variation. 1009’s sudden leap threw me to the ground.

  Soon, 1009 disappeared from view. I could not hear its wailing anymore. I got up and walked on, without aim, going from one pathway to another under the low canopy of the forest. The sun broke into some gaps in the trees illuminating sudden spots with wavering brilliance. I sat down at the bottom of a large tree trunk and stared up at the sunbeams. I could see one cypress tree behind the beams with branches of a bougainvillea that had pine cones hanging from them. I felt a dark cold shiver so I hugged my own shoulders with my arms. I had barracuda scales on my left shoulder and rippled feathers on my right. I stretched my arms in front of me which were one large paw of a cheetah and the yellow claws of an ostrich. With one eye of a chameleon I could only see fluttering leaves against a grey background. With my other eye of a lynx I could see the trees through the darkness which had obscured them earlier. I wanted to get back to my hut but I could not. I smelt the salt water of the sea. I smelt the weeds and fish in it. I smelt the moving pine cones and the slithering lizards on the tree trunks. I also smelt earthworms in the soil in the fields next to my hut. I wanted to get back to my hut but I could not.

  Five Houses and Five Stories

  House 1 - Adele’s Door

  Adele hurried down the stairs, clutching the railing which was still wet. It was late October and this was a quick rain, the first this autumn. She knew she might slip down the thirty steps and end up flat on her stomach at the bottom of the garden. But then Adele was always excitable so why should she be any different today, especially since today was different? The door being so old, it had slammed behind her but did not lock shut. Over the years, the two wooden panes had warped independently of one another and moved out of alignment. She sprung around and dashed back up like a woman of twenty, slammed the door shut and then descended faster than the first time. While going down the second time, she managed to go through her purse, search for her money and still have enough time to shout out to the carriage driver that she was coming down. At the bottom of the stairs, she halted, took a deep breath and dashed into the carriage, again, slamming its door shut twice before it locked well.

  She told the driver where she wanted to go and settled into the seat, adjusting herself a few times before finding the most comfortable position. She took a look through the back window at the house and tried to imagine how Nabil would see it after so many years. The carriage trod along. The sound of the hooves of the horses on the cobblestone made a contradictory noise in her ears. It echoed
her annoyance at the noise level which stopped her from day dreaming about the coming encounter but it was a welcome indication that she was moving towards it. The streets of Beirut seemed crowded, more crowded than usual. It seemed to her that everyone was going where she was going and was in her way. The smell of the damp soil and dust from the recent rain was still in the air. The late afternoon breeze of Beirut had not wiped out the unique scent. The horse shook his head and snorted a few times, acknowledging the wafts coming to him in short bursts.

  Soon, she saw the port building. It seemed larger than normal. She had passed it many times before but had not paid any attention to it. The ochre color seemed so beautiful. The late 19th century architecture gained a magnificence which was probably more due to her excitement than to the actual design of the building. Soon, she would be going into the building, on her feet.

  The driver shouted out loud that this was the furthest he could drive the carriage. He stopped the horses. She asked him to wait a bit further down the street for an hour or so while she went inside. She stepped out clutching her purse and maneuvered her way amongst porters, officials and others like her, anxiously awaiting the arrival of the ship. Her timing was good or rather the timing of the ship was as the margin of error in the announced schedules was often in the order of a few hours. She saw the ship just outside the harbor. The late October sun was reddish in color which gave the ship an eerie color, light brick, similar to the color of the tiles in her bathroom.

  The ship veered into the large bay and aimed at the quay assigned to it. Her heart leaped with joy. Of all the people on the boat, only one made the ship important. She walked along the quay, up and down, for a period that seemed like forever, until the ship docked. Hundreds of people waved from the ship and she scanned their faces to identify Nabil. But then she had not seen him for 30 years and he had not sent any pictures. People were coming down the plank loaded with bags and suitcases. Soon she heard a voice that she would recognize anywhere. Nabil was behind her and was asking a silly question: are you Adele? Of course she was. She turned around and hugged him hard. It was one of those hugs that reach a limit stopping at a point that left two options: either he felt something for her and did not wish to express it so soon or he did not feel anything but was just pressing her close to him because of the 30 year gap. She felt confused and flustered and started babbling. They talked. She talked more. He was reticent and quiet. She could not remember his behavior. It had been 30 years since they last talked. He had left Beirut in a hurry and did not have time to speak to her. It became obvious to everyone that both were hurt by the separation but both were not to blame. Adele was 15 when she met Nabil and loved him dearly. At that age, he was everything that she could imagine in a man. He was 22 and reciprocated her love with intensity. They knew they would be married, were it left to them. Yet, both sides of the family had grievances. On Adele’s side, she was too young to get married, even to be promised to anyone. On Nabil’s side, he was 22 but still not settled and without a clear future. He was wild in his ways but Adele would have accepted that. Her father called him one day and said straight out: Nabil, you are not to marry my daughter until you show me that you can support her. Nabil thought, how long would that take? And how many other men would already fit her father’s requirements? It was a blow to him. His father, who was distantly related to hers, was embittered too and rather than fight back, he ducked. It was not a time of opportunity in Lebanon and so he made Nabil leave to Venezuela where he had family. They only met once before he left and it was on a walk with a friend of hers. He was quiet and did not know what to say. She cried all along. He left and wrote once or twice and then stopped when he knew from his parents that she was to marry someone else. She wrote without expecting an answer. And now he was by her side. She had not known much about his life during those 30 years and she only received a letter informing her of his wish to return to Beirut with a request to stay at her place as he did not wish to be involved with the family. He gave no reason for the trip, no length of stay and no plans beyond arrival. She presumed he knew that her husband had died a year or so ago but she did not want to start asking questions.

  She signaled the driver who rushed with his carriage as Nabil savored the street, the smells, the sounds, the late afternoon light. He was quiet. As they got into the carriage, he asked a few neutral questions. She introduced him to some of the changes in Beirut, pointing out the new architecture and laughingly referring to her old house as the Palace. They reached the house and both eyed the long stairs up. She scrambled quickly to the neighbors and two able young teenagers came and carried the large suitcases up the stairs. They opened the two panes of the door to let the suitcases in. She tried to close the door but the two panes would not align. Nabil helped her by holding one of them firmly while she fit the other pane to it.

  By now, it was around eight and already dark. Nabil seemed uneasy and unwilling to talk but not incommunicative. She felt he wanted time to settle down. She suggested dinner and he quickly agreed: “Arak and Zeytoon?” They left the suitcases on the floor of the large main room in the center of the house and walked to a nearby restaurant. Strangely, he did not order Arak but settled for a light meal. She could see he was eyeing everything around him, looking everywhere else but at her. She wanted to believe that he was anxious being with her but was anxious that he might not be. They walked back slowly. As they passed different balconies, the plants gave different smells but Jasmine was everywhere. They reached the house and he stopped below and observed it. His eyes skipped from the stairs to the wide balcony in front of the main room. She ran up the stairs and he followed calmly.

  Inside, in the guest room, he proceeded to unpack. She kept busy, excitably busy, coming in and out and suggesting things, showing him ways of dealing with doors, furniture, lights and windows. By the time he finished, it was time to go to bed, so she said “hamdullah ala salamtak” and walked away.

  At night in her bed, she stayed awake. She usually slept on her side tossing from one to the other. Tonight, she lay on her back, her arms straight by her side. She was intensely daydreaming at night and was scared to go to sleep. At the beginning, she ran through her early encounters with him. The more she dwelt on the matter, the more her heart pounded. She wanted him more than ever. At one point, without thinking, she got out of bed and went to the main room. She had no design. She did not feel herself taking action. She saw him on the balcony. He had taken a chair out and was smoking. His back was turned to her and he had his feet up on the railing. She knew that back so well. In her mind and since he left, she had practiced hugging him from the back. Often she would even hug her husband in the same way and think of Nabil. It reminded her of a trick she played when very young: you would smell a mandarin as you chewed an apple. The apple would taste like a mandarin. The October night breeze was fluttering her nightgown and it scraped on her nipples and hind legs waking up a sensitivity she could not control. She wanted to jump into his arms now, hug him till the Day of Judgment and never let him go. She was approaching without logic, following the old Beiruty saying: either kill or be killed. Then she saw that he had a packet of her letters in his lap and was reading them one by one. She ran back into her room like a scared cat, got in her bed and cried bitter tears. An hour or so later, she heard his footsteps, leaving the balcony, approaching her room, standing in front of her closed door for a few minutes... “Come in, please, come in”, she cried in her mind silently. He did not hear her. He retraced his footsteps and went back to his room.

  Next morning, no one admitted to anything that took place at night. He preferred to postpone meeting the family till later in the week and wanted to have a new ID issued. She ran around the various government offices with him, creating havoc by jumping queues and barging into the offices of directors. She now remembered his laugh. They had lunch in a seaside fish restaurant and went back home in the late afternoon. The Beirut 6 o’clock breeze was enough to make anyone fal
l in love. They walked up the stairs and opened the door. This time the two panes interlocked very well.

  House 2 - Malek’s Operation

  Malek walked quickly and skipped a step every now and then, to catch up with his father. His father had a determined walk which was part of his character and nothing to do with the occasion which was slowly becoming more important to him than to Malek. In the future, Malek would try hard to remember that day and would not be able to. They walked along a long street lined with Ficus trees. It was an early afternoon in April, one of those days where the dryness and temperature are so natural you could say there was no weather at all. Malek felt good being with his father. They walked silently up the street and at the end, turned right into a dead end alley. It was no more than 20 meters long but it was wide. Going into the alley, you had one or two houses on each side. Towards the end, there was a single house separated from the others by two small gardens planted with green vegetables, mostly carrots, lettuce and mint.

  At the front of the house were a few steps leading from the street level up to a small balcony. There were two doors on the balcony. One wide door opened onto the living room of the house. The other led directly to the kitchen. On the left of the balcony, there was a long uncovered staircase that led up to the red-top roof