The Happy Marriage

He’d wanted to talk to Imane, but he still found it difficult to speak. So he decided to listen to her while she massaged his limbs. She was wearing a white blouse, where the gaps between the buttons revealed parts of her body. It was very warm on that day and so she’d wanted to be comfortable. Her patient was a courteous and respectful man. She had nothing to fear from him. Rubbing his right arm in order to revitalize its suppleness, she’d given him some slight caresses that had pleased him and made her smile. But her smile always had an unpleasant shape to it, which greatly upset him. He whispered: “Thank you. Excuse me, please tell me your story!” It took him some time to ensure she’d understood him. She’d taken a step back and replied: “I’ll have some time today after work. First allow me to take care of your arms and legs, which is very important since I really want to see you back in shape and in perfect health. You know, I’m very fond of you. I don’t know much about painting, but your colors and shapes speak to me. I’m not sure what they’re telling me, but I’m glad they speak to me. You reproduce objects better than any photographer, because you can tell that your paintings are the result of a lot of work, which must have taken you a great deal of time. A photographer on the other hand is happy to just press a button … Good, now let’s move on to the right leg, put some effort into it, that’s right, you can move it, good, you’re working with me!”

When she knelt to massage his feet, he could see her bosom. He didn’t know whether she’d noticed him looking, but he loved to watch her without her knowledge. He’d always had a weak spot for breasts.

After she’d finished, she suggested boiling some water to prepare the tea, and then she sat next to him and told him a story, as though she were Scheherazade in One Thousand and One Nights.

Once upon a time there was a young girl who couldn’t stop dreaming. All she knew about life was what she dreamed at night. At school she would see imaginary characters amongst the crowds, and she could see them clearly while still following her lessons in class. She had the strange ability to live in two different worlds: the real and the imaginary. But she could switch back and forth between the two with the greatest of ease. She didn’t dream like the other girls of her age did.

She dreamed of climbing a pyramid on the shoulders of an Egyptian king whom she healed with her smiles and caresses.

She dreamed of conducting a symphony orchestra in a great hall filled with family and friends. Each musician would have a star shining above their head, a favor bestowed by the angels on each member of the orchestra.

She dreamed of making a solo crossing of the Atlantic Ocean but gave up on it because she didn’t know how to swim.

She dreamed of being a female imam leading the prayers in a gigantic mosque and delivering a sermon that talked about the Prophet’s love for women.

She dreamed of being a sparrow that would fly from branch to branch and provide answers to the shrub of questions.

She dreamed of being Scheherazade’s sister and witnessing her wedding night with the prince. She would make herself smaller than usual, but wouldn’t miss anything that happened.

She dreamed of running a hospital and waving a magic wand.

She dreamed of succulent Arabian dates and a bowl of goat milk.

She dreamed of not being in pain at the end of a long day of work.