Seven Years Minus Ten Days

Short Story

Written by Ahmed Rahmo

Night drives were among Hisham’s favorite parts of his new job as a real estate salesman. He had the skills of a sales superstar, capable of persuading almost anyone to buy. But that was only at work. When it came to the woman he loved, he had never managed to sell himself.

The road stretched into the night, its end set to a sad melody. Streetlights passed one after another as the car picked up speed. It was the perfect moment to put on his headphones and play some music. He sang along:

“I’m free, I don’t have to obey, and the cigarette helps me forget.”

He lit a cigarette and offered one to the driver, letting himself enjoy the journey as his thoughts drifted elsewhere.

He remembered all those road trips with Nadia, his favorite person. He had loved her even after she left the country and got married. Every time the towering buildings of El Alamein came into view, Nadia found her way deeper into Hisham’s memory. Seven years of devotion were not easy to forget. And after she emigrated to another Arab country, all hope of reconnecting with her had finally faded.

Was I the one at fault?

Had she been acting like a whore?

Who was right, and who was wrong?

These questions had haunted him for three years since their separation, but none had an answer. The most important question, however, was whether they had ever been close friends at all—or whether they were simply two people who had forced their way into each other’s lives because they happened to work under the same roof at a marketing company.

To her, he was a spare part. To him, she was a close friend.

Hisham decided to think about it more deeply, but his train of thought was interrupted by Adel, his colleague.

“Come on, H, let’s close this deal so we can get some sleep.”

They all got out of the car and headed off to close the deal of a lifetime: a villa worth 80 million Egyptian pounds. Hisham secured a commission of one million pounds, plus a 100,000-pound bonus in recognition of his efforts.

His companions congratulated him, and Adel asked:

“I’ve always wanted to know what you do to make clients agree to buy.”

“Years of experience. It’s all about working on yourself a little. I mean, who would’ve thought a superstar salesman like me used to befriend people and get close to them just so I could sell them something?”

“That’s a pretty cheap trick. Good thing you stopped doing it.”

Adel’s words hit Hisham like a lightning bolt.

It really was a cheap way to sell anything. Back when he was a rookie salesman, Hisham used to ingratiate himself with people and flatter the wealthy to make sure he hit his targets.

The shock grew even stronger when he remembered the day he first met Nadia.

They had met because of a movie playing on the television in a small café. That day, he had decided to add her to his customer database so he could sell her an electronic device. He had also invited her to work with him, hoping to increase his commission.

The memory brought him a little relief, but far more pain. He had remembered the real reason their relationship began. It was as if he had always sensed the sad melody that would accompany this moment: the painful rediscovery of the truth about their relationship, and about his claim that their friendship had been genuine—or, more accurately, about her claim that it had been.

Hisham had forgotten how it all started. He had given Nadia more value than she was worth.

Nadia, meanwhile, had seen Hisham as a spare part, someone to turn to whenever a boyfriend left her. As far as Hisham was concerned, she had simply been a potential customer whom another salesman had managed to recruit.

Somehow, their relationship had grown stronger, eventually becoming a toxic bond. And, unfortunately, it ended in unrequited love.

Nadia had convinced herself that he would never leave her. She began pouring her poison into him, trying to push him away and make him leave her alone.

During one of their attempts at reconciliation, she revealed a great deal about herself: the greed of someone who had recently grown accustomed to riding in luxury cars with men who saw her as a sexual object to be exploited.

“Find yourself a job and buy a car. Maybe then you’ll get over me, and we can go back to the way we were.”

“You’re right. Maybe I was in love with you because I had nothing better to do. But I don’t want you anymore. I hope things work out for you, and I hope you find someone with a car.”

Hisham spoke those words against his own wishes, as though he were being lashed with whips and struck with a hammer. The truth was that he still wanted her to be his.

But the truth was bitter. Nadia had left him heartbroken and gone far away, leaving him with nothing but memories.

They had never loved each other enough to get married: he was desperately poor, and she was greedy. Nor had they managed to preserve their friendship, because Hisham had chosen to end it by falling in love with her.

It had all lasted seven years minus ten days.

The End