Fatima tells herself to be sensible, rational, mature. Even grateful. To keep things in perspective. What kind of perspective? The kind most people in the world dream about. She’s not rich. Ahmad and she are not even upper-middleclass. But they have both interesting jobs. They have sufficient money to live in a large, comfortable apartment. They can buy pretty much whatever they want, within reason. They’re in good health. They have health insurance for when they’re not in good health. Ahmad has got an university graduate degree. Fatima’s mind is alert. She has got some writing talent, which gives her a certain satisfaction. They are respected by family and friends and love each other. They married each other because they wanted to. At home, they have a well-stocked personal library of books. There are many CDs, LPs, and tapes of all kinds of music. They can buy as much food as they want. They have a car -- an old car but a good car -- that takes them wherever they need to go. Her life, to a large degree, is a life of modest but comfortable privilege. The necessities that most people struggle for come to her easily.
So what is her problem? Loneliness, mainly. Her friends, which aren’t many, come and go, and mostly go. She doesn’t need many friends. She doesn’t want many friends. Friendship, for Fatima, is an intimate, committed connection. And she can’t handle more than a few intimate, committed connections at one time. Besides, there aren’t that many people she meets who are prepared for an intimate, committed connection at any time. The good part is that, over the years, she learned how to be alone and to love it. She’s good at being alone. She knows how to enjoy herself . . . alone. There are many times when she prefers to be alone. And she would much rather be alone than be with people who aren’t very interesting. Not that they have to be clever or witty or sophisticated or even intellectual in the usual way. But she likes people who have a few thoughts to offer and an original way of expressing them, and are open-minded, curious, creative, honest, and passionate about something in their life.
What has been such a joy is the way her friends and Fatima have responded to each other -- spontaneously, intimately, and lovingly. Rania, of course, has been a very, special case. But there are also Nezha, Ouiam, Nesrin and Idir. But they have their own lives to live, which can’t include hers in any practical, daily sense.
And Rania’s sudden marriage and moving to another city, which could take place within two months, is a real jolt to her system, a blow that has knocked her off balance. Their relationship drifts into a zone of separation and silence. Their love and shared intimacy has become largely muted.
True, they both look forward to their visits. It’s something they both need. Fatima knows she does, and Rania says the same thing. But she’s not optimistic about what will become of them after the marriage. And for Fatima -- a connoisseur of loneliness -- losing her best friend is like losing her way in the labyrinth of her private solitude.
It’s at times like this that she supposes she should look at her life in perspective. On the one hand, she’s losing the closest person in her life, after Ahmad. On the other hand, she’s living a privileged life of comfort and freedom. Her melancholy comes surrounded by Elysian fields. Her loss sits in an aisle seat on her flight to anywhere. But such perspective does nothing to alleviate her loneliness or the mocking sound of one hand clapping in the dark.