«Don’t say that again when I’m around, you hear?»
She looked innocent and crestfallen. «What’s the matter you?»
He tossed his cigarette away and got up. «Skip it. Come on, or we’ll never get there». He picked up the basket. Conversation was by no means easy with Hadija. There were many things he would have liked to tell her: that a group of American boys would never have behaved like the young Arabs they had passed a while ago. (But would she have believed him, her experience with Americans having been limited to the sailors who occasionally staggered into the Bar Lucifer, their faces smeared with lipstick and their hastily donned trousers held up by one button? He wondered.) He would have liked to tell her in his own way how lovely he thought she was, and why he thought so, and to make her understand how much more he wanted from her than she was used to having men want.
They came out onto a broad, flat shelf of land where on the side toward the cliffs there had at one time been a quarry. The surface was covered with dried thistle plants and a narrow path led straight across it. He still walked ahead of her, into the wind, feeling it push against him all the way from his face to his feet, like a great invisible, amorous body. The path, after it had traversed the field of thistles, rose and wound among the rocks. Suddenly they rounded a corner and looked out on the mountainous coastline to the west. Below them great blocks of stone rose sheer from the water.
«Be careful,» said Dyar. «You go ahead here so I can keep an eye on you».
Ahead to the left he could see the cave, high in the vertical wall of rock. Birds flew in and out of smaller crevices above it; the roar of the waves covered all sound.
He was surprised to see that the cave was not dirty. Someone had made a fire in the center, and an empty tin can lay nearby. Toward the back of the cave in a corner there was a pallet of eucalyptus branches, probably arranged by some Berber fisherman months ago. Near the entrance there was one crumpled sheet of an old French newspaper. That was all. He set the basket down. Now, after all this, he felt shy.
«Well, here we are,» he said with false heartiness, turning to Hadija.
She smiled as usual and carefully walked to the corner where the leaves covered the stone floor.
«Good here,» she said, motioning to Dyar. She sat down, her legs akimbo, leaning against the wall of the cave. He had been about to light a cigarette to hide his confusion. Instead, he reached her in three strides, threw himself full length on the crackling leaves and twigs, and reached up to pull her face down to his. She cried out in surprise, lost her balance. Shrieking with laughter, she fell across him heavily. Even as she was still laughing she was deftly unbuttoning his shirt, unfastening the buckle of his belt. He rolled over and held her in a long embrace, expecting to feel her body hold itself rigid for a moment, and then slowly soften in the pleasure of surrender. But things did not happen like that. There was no surrender because there was no resistance. She accepted his embrace, returning his pressure with one arm while the other went on loosening his garments, attempting to slip them off. He pulled away, sat up.
«I’ll fix that,» he said, a little grimly, and straightway pulled off the remainder of his clothing.
«There. How’s that?» His voice sounded unnatural; he was thinking: if she’s going to act like a whore I’ll damned well treat her like one.
«Now, you too,» he said. And using both hands he began to pull her dress off over her head. She uttered a cry and struggled to a sitting position.
«No! No!»
He looked at her. It was disconcerting to be sitting there naked in front of this wild-eyed Arab girl pretending to defend her honor.
«What’s the matter?» he demanded.
Her face softened; she leaned forward and kissed him on the lips.
«You lie down,» she said smiling. «Leave dress alone».
As he obeyed, perplexed, she added: «You one bad boy, but I fix you up good». And indeed, in another minute she made it clear that she was by no means attempting to protect her virtue; she merely had no intention of removing her dress. At the same time she appeared to find it perfectly natural that Dyar should be unclothed; furthermore she took obvious pleasure in running her hands over his body, patting and pinching his flesh. Yet he had the conviction that notwithstanding her occasional murmurs of endearment, for her it was all a game. She was unattainable even in the profoundest intimacy. «Still, here it is. I’ve got her,» he thought. «What more did I expect?» Outside the cave beneath the cliffs, the sea pounded against the rocks; the air, even up here, was full of fine salt mist.
«The Garden of Hesperides. The golden apple,» he thought, running his tongue over her smooth, fine teeth. Soon it was as if he were floating slightly above the water, out there in the strait, the wind caressing his face. The sound of the waves receded further and further. They slept.
Dyar’s first thought on waking was that twilight had come. He raised himself a bit and surveyed Hadija: she was sleeping quietly, one hand under her cheek and the other resting on his arm. Like this she looked incredibly young — not more than twelve. Overcome with a great tenderness, he reached out, smoothed her forehead, and let his hand run softly over her hair. She opened her eyes. The bland, sweet smile appeared; was it an expression of friendship or a meaningless grimace? Reaching around among the branches and leaves, he assembled his clothing, leapt up and went outside the cave to dress. The sky was more heavily covered, the sun had completely disappeared, the light was muffled. A gull balanced itself in the wind before him, turning its head from time to time to look at the rocks below. Hadija called to him. When he went in she had moved to the center of the cave where she sat taking the parcels of food out of the basket.
«No radio?» she said. «Little radio?»
«No».
«One American lady I know she got one little radio. Little. Take it in beach. Take it in room. Take it on café in Zoco Chico. You hear music every time».
«I hate ’em. I wouldn’t like it here. I like the waves better. Hear ’em?» He pointed outside and listened a moment. She listened, too, and appeared to be considering the sound she heard. Presently she nodded her head and said: «Good music».
«Couldn’t be better,» he answered, pleased that she understood so well.
«That’s the beautiful. Come from God». She pointed casually upward. He was a little embarrassed, as he always was when a serious reference to God was made. Now he was not sure whether she had really understood him or not.
«Well, let’s eat». He bit into a sandwich.
«Bismil ’lah,» said Hadija, doing likewise.
«What’s that mean? Good appetite?»
«It mean we eat for God».
«Oh».
«You say».
She repeated it several times and made him say it until he had pronounced it to her satisfaction. Then they ate.
After lunch he went out and climbed among the rocks for a few minutes. It pleased him to see that there was not a soul in sight in either direction along the shore; he had half expected the gang of youths to follow them and perhaps continue their antics below on the rocks. But there was no one. When he returned to the cave he sat down outside it and called to Hadija.
«Come on out and sit here. It’s too dark inside».
She obeyed. In a moment they were lying locked in each other’s arms. When she complained of the cold rock beneath her, he got his jacket from inside the cave, put it under her, and lay down again.
«D’you know what I want?» he said, looking at the tiny black knob his head made against the sky in her eyes.
«You want?»
«Yes. D’you know what I want? I want to live with you. All the time. So we can be like this every night, every morning. You know? You understand?»
«Oh, yes».
«I’ll get you a little room, a good room. You live in it and I’ll come and see you every day. Would you like that?»
«I come every day?»
«No!» He moved one arm out from under her and gestured, pointing. «I pay for the room. You live in it. I come and see you every night. Yes?»
She smiled. «All right». It was as if he had said: «What do you say to starting back in about an hour?» As this occurred to him, he did say: «Want to start back pretty soon?»
«O.K».
His heart sank a little. He was right: it was the same voice, the same smile. He sighed. Still, she had agreed.
«But you promise?»
«What?»