Alif (26)
"No, not at all. Not at all. She wants you still. She wants you very well. She is wanting you all the time. All you have to do is see her. She will be so pleased." "But then they will think that Binta and I are ... That we are ... It could make it very difficult for both of us ..." Ferhana nodded slightly. She took her hand away from behind Ana's shoulders and cupped it in her other hand. "There is a way you can help Binta. A very good way. A way that nobody else can do. She has a friend. A friend of mine, too. She is my friend from when I lived free in Blad and could do whatever I wanted to. She is also a friend of Binta, by chance. It is a ... coincidence that she knows Binta. They met in Jebel. She is not from Alif. She is coming from Gharab. She is visiting Blad and wanting to meet Binta. And she also is wanting to meet me. I write to her, and she is writing to me. She is not writing to Binta because all Binta's letters are opened and the ... authorities might think she is a ... a lesbian, like Binta. And she is wanting to visit Binta. But nobody can visit anyone in the Brothel unless they are a relative. Or they have special permission..." "Special permission?" Asked Ana, guessing what Ferhana was trying to say. "Who is this friend?" "She is named Azhnia. She is a very nice girl." "Yes, I've heard of her. And how can I help?" "If we asked the Director if she could come into the Brothel, he probably would not allow her. He would probably think she were a ... He would think that there may be other reasons why she would want to see her. Or if he did, it would be difficult for them to speak together without ... without worry. But if she were a friend of yours ... If you let her in yourself ... Then Binta and she could speak together. There would be no suspicion that ..." "Weren't Azhnia and Binta once lovers?" Ferhana raised her eyebrows in what appeared to be genuine surprise to Ana. "That can't be so! Azhnia never once said. Neither has Binta. Were they ...?" Ana regretted her remark. "You want me to invite Azhnia into the Brothel as if she were my friend, and not Binta's? Or yours?" "Yes. If you could? Binta would be very happy. They have not seen each other for many years. Azhnia is very unhappy for Binta. She did not know the government of Alif could be so cruel. She is very much wanting to comfort Binta." "And I could invite her in as my friend?" "Please. It would be very well for Azhnia. And for Binta..." "Was she a friend of yours when you used to sell contraband alcohol?" Ferhana looked at Ana with concern. "Yes. She was. But in her country, alcohol is not illegal. As in my country, it can be bought anywhere. Nobody is stopping you if you want to buy alcohol. She found out I sold alcohol. That is how she got to knowing me. Do you mind? If you do, I am sorry. I should not have spoke to you. It is not ..." "I'll help," said Ana with firm conviction. "It wouldn't be at all difficult for me. We can meet in the foyer and I can let her in. I'm sure there'd be no problem. No one needs to know she's a friend of Binta's." "You can? That would be very well. Binta would be very happy." "It's no problem to me. Just tell me when and I'll meet her. After normal office hours when the Director isn't here." "That is very well. I am so happy. Binta will feel so much happier too!" Ana nodded sadly. She opened the small handbag she had over her shoulder and pulled out a small makeup mirror. She studied her reflection. The mascara and lipstick were so smudged! She'd have to reapply it before leaving the squash court. She looked at Ferhana's face. Her makeup was equally much a mess, but the difference was less immediately obvious on her face. Ana pulled out a small tissue and holding the mirror up, daubed at the streaks running from her eyes and over her cheeks. "I must be going now," said Ferhana, briefly kissing Ana on the cheek. "I must tidy myself too. I am having more work to do soon. Thank you again for your help. I write to Azhnia and we will be arranging a time when she can come." "Yes. Do that," said Ana distantly. "I'll do what I can." Ferhana stood up and left the viewing gallery, Ana watching her leave from the makeup mirror as she carefully patted her cheek. A feeling of warmth was gradually spreading over Ana. She felt the deadness and despair that had shadowed her for so long begin to disperse. It was as if her conversation with Ferhana had opened a brief gap in a cloud through which the sun could at last peek through and herald hope and change. Perhaps there was a promise of better things to come. She tucked away her tissue, and pulled out a stick of eyeliner which she carefully applied to the upper eyelid. She hated her new appearance. As soon as she got home from work she would clean every vestige of it from her body along with every last smell of her clients and especially any scent of the Director. At work however, she had come to feel naked without it. Somehow, the uniform of a prostitute distanced it from herself not dressed or made up in that way. It made her a different person: one who was able to do the horrible and painful things she had to do every working day (and some weekends). She glanced towards the door where Ferhana had left, thinking about their conversation. She still hadn't forgiven Ferhana and Binta. A surge of hatred swept through her as she reflected on the video she had seen, every detail of it rehearsed so often in her memory. But she was sure that what Ferhana and Binta had been then, and what she had become now, were really so alike that moral approbation was no longer really appropriate. And whatever else she felt, she couldn't afford to lose that sensation of hope that so overwhelmed her. 24 Ana opened the door to the foyer and looked around her. Amongst the usual selection of middle-aged men hovering around was a single young lady, dressed in leather jacket and trousers, with short blue hair and hoop-like earrings dangling down each side of her round-cheeked face. It could only be Azhnia, but Ana needed to go through the motions. She approached the prostitute at the reception desk, thanked her for her call and waved to Azhnia who raised her eyebrow with some surprise, but nonetheless waved back with an expression of recognition that was totally feigned. Ana reflected with regret that to Azhnia, she must have looked just the same as all the other prostitutes in her tight revealing clothes and thick pasting of makeup. Ana strolled up to Azhnia, and greeted her with a wholly theatrical show of familiar amiability. She could see Azhnia's eyes examine her from eyeliner to high heels: quite clearly disturbed by the blatancy of her appearance. Ana had never seen a woman dressed like Azhnia before: the nearest to her in appearance was Zabba when not at work, but Zabba's appearance was still within the parameters of dress acceptable in the City of Blad. Azhnia's appearance was no more confrontational than Zabba's but it suggested an attitude of self-confidence rare in Alif women. Ana sat next to Azhnia, who stared at her. When she spoke, her voice was somehow more languid and relaxed than normal for Alif; and the vowels appeared contorted and tortured to her ears. Nobody could ever mistake Azhnia as a native to Alif however fluently she spoke the same language. "Well, Ana, isn't it? How're you hanging? 'Sreal neat to see ya. 'N' this's where you work? 'Sreal weird! Quite freaky, in fact. You guys're in the weirdest setup I could ever imagine!" "Don't you have brothels in Gharab?" "Yeh! Sure we do. Not like this though. Not that I've ever been inside one, y'know. Our brothels are all private. The state's got nothing to do with them. But in Alif near everything's nationalised, so I s'pose there's nothing so weird about brothels being nationalised 'n'all! I just never thought it'd be like this somehow. It's sort of almost like a hotel foyer here, isn't it. You kind of expect bellboys and bureaux de changes, don't you?" Ana wasn't sure she really understood everything Azhnia was saying, but she nodded her head in assent. "Are you living in Blad?" "Yeh. Sure I do. I got a job working in a café. Not a waitress, though. They said it wouldn't be right for the customers to see me. They'd be put off their coffees! Behind the counter. It doesn't pay very well, but it means I don't have to spend all my savings in one go. And they give me a room above the café. It's real tiny, but it's better than nothing I s'pose! You live here do you?" "In the brothel?" "Yeh. Like Binta and Ferhana. You live here?" Ana raised her eyebrows. "No, thank goodness. I live in Jadid." "Jadid? That's a real nice quarter, that is. But Ferhana said you, like, had your own room in the Brothel where we'd be going and meet Binta." "Yes, that's so. But it's not my home. It's just where I work. Shall we go there?" "Oh yeh. Sure! Yeh. Let's go then." Ana escorted Azhnia past the reception desk to the door she'd come through, tottering on her heels while Azhnia followed behind in considerably more comfort in her rubber-soled boots. She led the way along corridors and up staircases to her room which was in one of the smarter wings of the Brothel reserved for Alphas and prostitutes like her who were accorded higher status for their other services to the Brothel. Azhnia looked around her with wonderment at the rows of doors and the lights above each one of them. A prostitute passed by, escorting a small balding man in an ill-fitting suit, and Azhnia's eyes followed them. She was clearly fascinated by all that she saw, but made no comment. They soon reached Ana's room, the sight of whose door sent a shiver of anxiety down Ana's spine. She hated it, however well-decorated it might be and however comfortable the bed. It was a room she only ever normally visited when she was about to see a client, and the association with all those hateful, loathsome encounters always left a very uncomfortable feeling in the back of her throat. "This is it!" Announced Ana, pushing open the door and revealing the bed, armchair and washbasin. "This is where I work." "Where's Binta?" "She'll be along soon," Ana said. She indicated the bed. "Sit there. I'll sit on the chair, if you don't mind." She hated the memories connected with the bed. It was with some reluctance that she'd agreed to return to the room after her working day. It was normally somewhere she was happy to leave, and the bed for all its apparent luxury was more like a soft-matressed torture rack than somewhere to sleep. "This is a real neat room!" Said Azhnia approvingly. "It's real big. Bigger than my bedsit, I can tell you! Can't say much for the choice of décor: these reds and pinks. It's like a real boudoir. It's not your taste, is it?" "All the rooms are decorated much like this. We don't have much say in how it's done. It's what the clients want and expect." "Is this where you, like, have sex with them, is it?" Ana ignored the question. She had no wish to discuss that aspect of her working life with anyone. Azhnia was more persistent. "Ferhana says it's, like, real awful what she has to do. She really hates it. It's something you don't like, neither, isn't it?" Ana nodded. She tried to change the subject. "Mostly, I work as a secretary..." "Yeh, Ferhana said in her letters. She said it was real weird, y'know, you working in this kind of joint. I thought it was real weird that anyone like works in a Brothel at other things than being a like prostitute. You sort of think that that's all that ever happens here, but I reckon there's gotta be some admin and all, hasn't there? And you got to know Ferhana and Binta as a secretary, didn't you?" "That's right," sniffed Ana. She looked at Azhnia. She was clearly nervous, despite her show of self-assurance. Was it because she was anticipating meeting Binta or was it because she was in a place like the Brothel? She glanced at the mirror. She hoped that nothing would be recorded of their conversation, but she reflected that with the enormous volume of recorded material being collected that as long as what was seen was of no visual significance then everything said would probably never be scrutinised. She looked back at Azhnia. "Do you like living in Alif?" "What a question! Yeh, it's all right. I've made some real good friends here. It's got some real neat countryside. I s'pose I must like it. I've been to plenty of other countries too, and a lot of them are pretty neat too. But I keep coming back here. I don't really know why, but I s'pose the friends I've made here must be one good reason. Friends like Binta and Ferhana. And friends are real important, y'know. Don't you think?" "Yes, very important," agreed Ana. There was a knock at the door. Ana jumped back with alarm, her face whitening as she contemplated the fact that it must mean that Binta had arrived. She had rehearsed and re-rehearsed this moment for so long: what she would say, the bitterness that she felt, the betrayal of her love that Binta had been party to, the worries and anxieties that had haunted her in the last few months. As the door opened and Binta entered, seeming so much smaller and more humble than she'd remembered, all the rehearsed lines were discarded. She broke into a sad but broad grin. She hadn't realised how much she had been longing to see Binta again. "Hiya, sweetie!" Greeted Azhnia. "How're you hanging? The bastards not getting you down, are they?" Binta hovered by the door and nodded in reply. Like Ana she seemed to have lost her voice. She leaned an arm against the door, gripping its edge with her fingers, and stared straight into Ana's eyes. Then she returned the grin and ran straight to Ana, leaning down on the floor by her stockinged feet, grasping her arms in her hands and staring up at Ana with a look of pleading and shame. "Oh! Ana! I've missed you! I've missed you so much! I've been so worried that you wouldn't talk to me ever again. So worried now that you ... that you ... I thought I'd lost you forever! I haven't, have I? Tell me that I haven't! Tell me that all will be the same again!" Ana looked down at her lover, smiling broadly and crying at the same time. "I still love you, Binta! I will always love you, Binta! All I want is for us to be together again. Please believe me!" "Ferhana told me about the videos. How you found out about me and her. How can you ever forgive me? What can I do to convince you that it is you? Only you that I love! Please please forgive me! And how you must have suffered these last months! Those horrid clothes you wear. The suffering you must have been through!"
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