Dallas-
The torrents of downpour is still keeping people in this other side of world in their safe homes. Looking back to her life, the only blissful things that she has in her life are her two sons. She wonders how her twelve years old son feels at that moment. Has she missed her grand mother who took care of her? Is he upset that he is ripped apart from his friends, cousins, aunts, and uncles? Does he have any attraction for the opposite sex, as she did for the tall figure when she was twelve. Gazing to the dark horizon, she lets her swift moving imagination drifts way back, where she was withering of a vain, childish love in her small bedroom.
Tehran-
Hana got up from bed and went to her desk. She removed her book of poetry from under the mattress. Pressing forcefully the pen on the paper, she began writing. After a while she stopped to see what she had written. It was not a poem, as she loved to write, but it was a true and hateful sentence about the big, fat, round aunt's brother, Naser.
"Bucket, container, big, fat pail, I hate you."
She looked at her girlish handwriting and realized how soon she was introduced to loathing and disbelief. She put the pencil down, got up from the chair, and walked around the bed to get to the window. It was dark now and she could not see the Shadow of the moving tree in the glimmering light of the street. She opened the window just a little to feel the chill of that fall night; but the bitter cold rushed inside. Rain had stopped a while back. She tried to touch the wet leaves of the lonely tree in front of her window.
"Hana, come on down. Dinner is ready." Her mom distracted her of enjoying the nature, and her loneliness.
"In a minute, mom."
She closed the window. Going down the stairs, the sweet smell of rice and gormeh sabzi (a Persian dish) filled her nose and her stomach growled.
"Help me to set the table." Mom said.
She frowned slightly and began doing what she was asked, while thinking. "Why can't she ask my brothers?" She found the answer to her own question right away: "Because they're boys."
Grandma and her sons, her uncles, were not home that night. It was a pleasing situation not having them at home even if it was for one night. Ever since grandpa passed away, they lived with them. Hana's dad was the oldest son and he had to take care of his mother and two younger brothers, Reza and Asad. It was not a written law; but it was expected from the first son. The two women, her mom and grandma, fought like cats and dogs constantly. Sometimes Hana felt to run away from that monstrous, intolerable crowd and find a quiet place to live; but when she thought about how to support herself, she always changed her mind.
Every evening after dinner she went to her room to write; a hobby she worshipped; however, in day time when she was at school, she hid her writings under the mattress so her inquisitive mom could not find it.
Dallas-
The rain has stopped again. Hana finally gives up standing next to the window. She must prepare food for her family. It is almost dinner time and her sons would not understand that she does not feel like cooking. In the kitchen she takes a package of ground beef out of freezer while does not even know what to do with it. It really does not matter. Even if she was the best cook, her husband, Hamid, always complain. Drawing back to old times, she remembers how some men used women. To them girls were only objects or robots that their jobs were only to please men without complaining. Even Reza, her uncle, who was only two years older than her, wanted to take advantage of her. Anytime they were at the dinner table, he rubbed his feet to hers. She did not know the reason then. Once, she was about to ask him the reason of his rubbing his feet to her leg; but when she saw Reza's piercing eyes, she stopped. There was something in his look that frightened her. After that, he never did that nonsense act anymore.
The situation has changed now. She is not a little girl anymore. Her sons, Twelve and eight, remind her of how similar her attitude was at those age, except they are boys; they live in America, and they can not impose their will upon girls. In both of her pregnancies, she prayed to have boys and those wishes are among the rare ones that came through.
The silent night after a stormy day seems unreal. In her lonely bed, she wonders where her husband is at that time. Is he drunk or having sex with another woman? She realizes that she does not care anymore. She even wishes that Hamid finds a permanent girlfriend and leave her alone. In the darkness of the bedroom, a shaky light from a high beam in the street forces its rays inside; and in the glimmer of that light she travels once more to the old days.
Tehran-
To Be Continued
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Friday, July 30, 2010
1- Odyssey... _-_- Autumn In Two Cities
Tehran, 1958-
Her bedroom was relatively small on the second floor of their house. Her bed was set alongside the window which faced street. However, there was enough space between bed and window for her to stand there and watch the street or sit at the edge of the bed and stare outside. Sometimes at night when she could not sleep, she would gaze at the sky and tried to count the stars. Her bedspread and curtain were from same material and were red color. Her mother had sewn them for her. She had recently had devolved this love for the red color. She thought red would reflect the color of nature in a romantic way even though she did not know what romantic meant. Next to her bed was her small desk. Across from her bed were two doors, one the door to enter her room, and the other the door of her small closet. The floor was covered by a Persian Rug, navy and red were main colors with some creme color around the edges. It was made in Kerman, one of the Southern cities in Iran. The design of he rug was birds among branches of trees.
At that moment Hana was standing behind the window, where the narrow strip between her bed and window was, enduring her petite body and big heart. As usual she was hearing voices in her ears, like her thoughts were talking to her. Her heart pounded and she was wrung with anguish. Exasperatedly, she thought that she would not see him today. Her room was dark, damp, and cold. Her mother always fought with her when she had the window open specially on a days like this, damp, and cold. She still hoped for a miracle. The small round clock next to her bed, she called it little Ben, showed four o'clock. "No, he won't show up today. It's raining; maybe he didn't go to school like me." She breathed deeply of a sudden relief; and remembered the book she was reading earlier. It was laid on the bed open and face down. Disappointed, she sat on her bed and then eased under the comforter, placing her hands under her head. She stayed in that position for a while and gazed at the ceiling. A spider, caught in its own web, amused her for a moment or two. She thought about saving it; but quickly she changed her mind. Trying to think about the tall figure, the big, round, and fat body of her aunt's brother took his place. The spider finally fell on the bed and she killed it viciously with the book. Her violent attack caused her to lose the page of the book that she had a pencil as a marker there. Searching for the page, a heavy load on her chest almost paralyzed her. She launched forward in the bed, gasping for air. When the pain eased away, she picked up the book and began searching for the page she had read only half an hour earlier. She began reading; but the words in that page scattered like the leaves outside. Suddenly she remembered the poem about autumn she had written that morning. Some lines on it came to her.
"I had a dream in wold.
I resisted the pain in cold.
Leaves shined like gold.
I chastised myself with scold."
She did not remember the rest of the poem unless she would reach for her book of poetry hidden under her mattress; but she did not feel like it at that moment. She went back to her book and finished reading the page without understanding it. The fat, round figure was still in her mind. She had always hated him; but her aunt loved her brother. Something flashed like a sudden lightening in her mind and she recalled an earlier event.
{}
It was a pleasant spring day. Hana was reading a book. Her chair was faced the window in the guest room upstairs, next to her room. The window was open and she enjoyed the spring breeze running through her hair. Her back was to the door of the room. Blissful by the complicated book she was reading and not understanding it, and the breeze; she heard a footstep. Jumping out of her chair, as she had committed a bad thing, she saw the big, fat, round aunt's brother, Naser.
"Relax. Did I scare you? What are you reading?"
"Just a book! No, you didn't scare me."
Those were not exactly what she wanted to say. What she really wanted to say was: "Yes, you scared me. Get lost you, fat, bucket." But she said those in her speaking mind.
"Good, why don't you sit back in your chair. I won't bother you."
"Okay," While she wanted to say: "Leave me alone."
She obediently sat back on her chair and suddenly felt Naser's fat, round hand on her breasts. He was standing behind her chair. She, frozen with horror, stayed motionless and speechless. Her silent caused him to find the courage for more. He slid his hand through the V neck of her tee shirt and slowly and smoothly moved it down until it was on her naked, newly grown breast. Hana petrified, felt a flow of a burning fire inside her body. Naser Squeezed the nipple and slipped his fat hand lower on her belly; and suddenly horrified Naser moved his hand out and walked to the window when a footstep was heard. Shivering and astounded, Hana left the room.
The image of the fat, round aunt's brother ever since had occupied a corner of her twelve years old mind. As much as she hated Naser, she could not get rid of that strange moment of only a few months earlier, which had been so difficult for her to comprehend.
Dallas-
To Be Continued
Her bedroom was relatively small on the second floor of their house. Her bed was set alongside the window which faced street. However, there was enough space between bed and window for her to stand there and watch the street or sit at the edge of the bed and stare outside. Sometimes at night when she could not sleep, she would gaze at the sky and tried to count the stars. Her bedspread and curtain were from same material and were red color. Her mother had sewn them for her. She had recently had devolved this love for the red color. She thought red would reflect the color of nature in a romantic way even though she did not know what romantic meant. Next to her bed was her small desk. Across from her bed were two doors, one the door to enter her room, and the other the door of her small closet. The floor was covered by a Persian Rug, navy and red were main colors with some creme color around the edges. It was made in Kerman, one of the Southern cities in Iran. The design of he rug was birds among branches of trees.
At that moment Hana was standing behind the window, where the narrow strip between her bed and window was, enduring her petite body and big heart. As usual she was hearing voices in her ears, like her thoughts were talking to her. Her heart pounded and she was wrung with anguish. Exasperatedly, she thought that she would not see him today. Her room was dark, damp, and cold. Her mother always fought with her when she had the window open specially on a days like this, damp, and cold. She still hoped for a miracle. The small round clock next to her bed, she called it little Ben, showed four o'clock. "No, he won't show up today. It's raining; maybe he didn't go to school like me." She breathed deeply of a sudden relief; and remembered the book she was reading earlier. It was laid on the bed open and face down. Disappointed, she sat on her bed and then eased under the comforter, placing her hands under her head. She stayed in that position for a while and gazed at the ceiling. A spider, caught in its own web, amused her for a moment or two. She thought about saving it; but quickly she changed her mind. Trying to think about the tall figure, the big, round, and fat body of her aunt's brother took his place. The spider finally fell on the bed and she killed it viciously with the book. Her violent attack caused her to lose the page of the book that she had a pencil as a marker there. Searching for the page, a heavy load on her chest almost paralyzed her. She launched forward in the bed, gasping for air. When the pain eased away, she picked up the book and began searching for the page she had read only half an hour earlier. She began reading; but the words in that page scattered like the leaves outside. Suddenly she remembered the poem about autumn she had written that morning. Some lines on it came to her.
"I had a dream in wold.
I resisted the pain in cold.
Leaves shined like gold.
I chastised myself with scold."
She did not remember the rest of the poem unless she would reach for her book of poetry hidden under her mattress; but she did not feel like it at that moment. She went back to her book and finished reading the page without understanding it. The fat, round figure was still in her mind. She had always hated him; but her aunt loved her brother. Something flashed like a sudden lightening in her mind and she recalled an earlier event.
{}
It was a pleasant spring day. Hana was reading a book. Her chair was faced the window in the guest room upstairs, next to her room. The window was open and she enjoyed the spring breeze running through her hair. Her back was to the door of the room. Blissful by the complicated book she was reading and not understanding it, and the breeze; she heard a footstep. Jumping out of her chair, as she had committed a bad thing, she saw the big, fat, round aunt's brother, Naser.
"Relax. Did I scare you? What are you reading?"
"Just a book! No, you didn't scare me."
Those were not exactly what she wanted to say. What she really wanted to say was: "Yes, you scared me. Get lost you, fat, bucket." But she said those in her speaking mind.
"Good, why don't you sit back in your chair. I won't bother you."
"Okay," While she wanted to say: "Leave me alone."
She obediently sat back on her chair and suddenly felt Naser's fat, round hand on her breasts. He was standing behind her chair. She, frozen with horror, stayed motionless and speechless. Her silent caused him to find the courage for more. He slid his hand through the V neck of her tee shirt and slowly and smoothly moved it down until it was on her naked, newly grown breast. Hana petrified, felt a flow of a burning fire inside her body. Naser Squeezed the nipple and slipped his fat hand lower on her belly; and suddenly horrified Naser moved his hand out and walked to the window when a footstep was heard. Shivering and astounded, Hana left the room.
The image of the fat, round aunt's brother ever since had occupied a corner of her twelve years old mind. As much as she hated Naser, she could not get rid of that strange moment of only a few months earlier, which had been so difficult for her to comprehend.
Dallas-
To Be Continued
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Odyssey of ...1- Autumn in Two Cities
Dallas, 1980-
It is a cold, dreadful, rainy fall day. The dismal rain keeps beating against the surface of the Meandering Way. The howl of wind growls like an angry dog; and the gloomy, gushing sound of the water gurgles from every roof top and porch onto the pavement. The ground is covered by the orange, red, and brown leaves. The fresh fragrance of the wet soil fights with the mournful wind. Reminder of the tree leaves which have survived the harsh fall wind are in the fierce battle with nature. They one by one are defeated and their fall adds tot he thickness of the colorful, wet carpet of street and pavement. The narrow brook is flooded by the anger of nature. Water washes the dead leaves and violently sweeps them down the street. A sudden lightening in the gray horizon follows by a loud thunder. An open window of a house keeps whipping drearily against wall; and a yellowish lace drape is out of a window next door and moves wildly with the harshness of the blow. It finally stops when a branch of a tree grabs it like the teeth of an predator thrust into the throat of its victim. Raging nature is in control while furious people are behind their closed doors and windows are praying for sunshine. It is a dreadful moment- a real autumn afternoon, dank, misty; a moment pregnant with colds, ague, and fears. A man is disappearing into the whirl of the wind.
The small living room indicates a very modest life of its occupant. There is a faded brown sofa on one side, a cheap, shaky coffee table in front of it; and a Sony 19" television is on on the opposite side of the room. The television is placed on a heavy cardboard box. No pictures on the wall except and eight by eleven family photo.
Hana is standing impatiently behind the window of the living room; ignoring the call of her sons. She has the faded, off white curtain wrapped around herself, as some other time in a very far past. A bone chilling cold through the cracks of window which faces the street shivers her all over. She feels a tingling numbness in her feet and overworked fingers. Standing there motionless for a long time brings her dizziness. The early Sunday afternoon looks like a dark, frightening night. The tall tree in front of the window blocks her view, and she can not see the beginning of the street, where it starts from Spring Valley Road; and where the pedestrians try to reach their homes. The anxiety of an unknown waiting reminds her of many years earlier, a rainy fall day back home. Too far back to remember every little things that created great confusion and influenced her life; yet too close to her heart of an early, childish, poppy type love, that have left a dark shadow in her soul.
She recalls that fall day distinctly suddenly. She can see herself standing next to the window, as she is now, and praying to see the tall figure she admired secretly. She saw him everyday at that time. Quivering of cold, she buries her face with her hands and tears drop through slit between her fingers. She did not plan any of these. Her dreams and hops have vanished.
Tehran, 1958-
To Be Continued
It is a cold, dreadful, rainy fall day. The dismal rain keeps beating against the surface of the Meandering Way. The howl of wind growls like an angry dog; and the gloomy, gushing sound of the water gurgles from every roof top and porch onto the pavement. The ground is covered by the orange, red, and brown leaves. The fresh fragrance of the wet soil fights with the mournful wind. Reminder of the tree leaves which have survived the harsh fall wind are in the fierce battle with nature. They one by one are defeated and their fall adds tot he thickness of the colorful, wet carpet of street and pavement. The narrow brook is flooded by the anger of nature. Water washes the dead leaves and violently sweeps them down the street. A sudden lightening in the gray horizon follows by a loud thunder. An open window of a house keeps whipping drearily against wall; and a yellowish lace drape is out of a window next door and moves wildly with the harshness of the blow. It finally stops when a branch of a tree grabs it like the teeth of an predator thrust into the throat of its victim. Raging nature is in control while furious people are behind their closed doors and windows are praying for sunshine. It is a dreadful moment- a real autumn afternoon, dank, misty; a moment pregnant with colds, ague, and fears. A man is disappearing into the whirl of the wind.
The small living room indicates a very modest life of its occupant. There is a faded brown sofa on one side, a cheap, shaky coffee table in front of it; and a Sony 19" television is on on the opposite side of the room. The television is placed on a heavy cardboard box. No pictures on the wall except and eight by eleven family photo.
Hana is standing impatiently behind the window of the living room; ignoring the call of her sons. She has the faded, off white curtain wrapped around herself, as some other time in a very far past. A bone chilling cold through the cracks of window which faces the street shivers her all over. She feels a tingling numbness in her feet and overworked fingers. Standing there motionless for a long time brings her dizziness. The early Sunday afternoon looks like a dark, frightening night. The tall tree in front of the window blocks her view, and she can not see the beginning of the street, where it starts from Spring Valley Road; and where the pedestrians try to reach their homes. The anxiety of an unknown waiting reminds her of many years earlier, a rainy fall day back home. Too far back to remember every little things that created great confusion and influenced her life; yet too close to her heart of an early, childish, poppy type love, that have left a dark shadow in her soul.
She recalls that fall day distinctly suddenly. She can see herself standing next to the window, as she is now, and praying to see the tall figure she admired secretly. She saw him everyday at that time. Quivering of cold, she buries her face with her hands and tears drop through slit between her fingers. She did not plan any of these. Her dreams and hops have vanished.
Tehran, 1958-
To Be Continued
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Thirty Six<><><> Tomorrow
All Night Anna walked in the house and also out in the yard. The clean, naked sky had no spots of even one piece of cloud in it; and the coquettish stars and planets were twinkling to her. She sat on a chair in the gazebo with her ashtray, cigarette, a bottle of brandy and a shot glass; contemplating tomorrow. But it was tomorrow already. It was one, two, three in the morning. Those numbers were all tomorrow that she did not want to see and she was staring at them. The ticking of the gazebo clock seemed to her dividing time into separate atoms of energy, each of which was too morbid to be borne.
She remembered the time that they were going on a vacation and she had stayed up all night being so excited. She loved to travel; or better yet she used to love to travel. On that holiday, she was so overwhelmed for being a child. How wonderful was to be a child, to have an older brother who pretended was her age and gave in to her whims, to have parents that had done anything for you to protect you. On those days, gone days which never would return since all the players were dead except her, she had looked forward for the tomorrows, she wanted more of them; now she did not even want to live to see tomorrow.
Joseph, in bed, was aware that his wife was not in bed. In his delirious mind which pain had hurt and changed it so much, he all of sudden understood the position he was placing Anna in. He had gotten to the point, he thought, that he had outlived his love, humanity, but he had not outlived the consequences of his recklessness. The wheels were in motion; and nobody could stop them any more. He knew where she was, their favorite place on earth, the gazebo. He wished he could join her, or had the strength to call her. He recalled their intellectual discourses. He had found the perfect wife, friend, partner, and now he had to put her through this! Didn't she have enough of her own? He felt guilty for requesting such thing from her; but at the same time, he did not have the courage to do it himself. He knew how to do it; he knew it all along, but how could he? He was not a Roman soldier to fall on his sword. At this point he wondered if he loved her more than she loved him! If she said yes, tomorrow, it meant that she loved him more. That would take courage, love, loyalty, all the things she had. He was not a brave man. He thought what would he do if it was him that had given such promise to Anna! He thought hard about it. The conclusion was ugly. He most likely use his legal power to take her to the hospital and to leave her there. He came to understand that Anna's upbringing and her father's teaching had taught her to be an honorable woman no matter the consequences. What an exceptional woman she was. He thought if he had the chance of living not dying, he would write about her and put her in the history book as a historian that he was; for courage like that was not found only amongst the bravest soldiers but a woman like her.
*
Anna came inside at six in the morning. She was sober. She had not had even a sip of the brandy; but she had smoked two packs of cigarette. Joseph was awake. In fact, he was awake all night. Anna looked pale and gloomy. She walked to the bedroom. They both looked at each other like two strangers.
"I thought I give you some breakfast first." Her voice was hushed up by the affect of smoking and crying too much.
Joseph's eyes were welling up with tears. Anna swallowed hers. He wanted to tell her that it was very cruel of him to request such thing from her; but she had already left the room and gone to the kitchen.
In the tray, there were toasts, orange juice, and coffee for both. She sat on the bed with the tray at her side and gently and calmly cut the toasts in small pieces; put some butter and strawberry jam on them, and began putting them in his mouth slowly and deliberately one by one. Then she wiped clean his mouth with a wet cloth. Then she gave him his daily bath, massaged his feet and legs, changed his pajama, and then left the room. For a moment Joseph thought that she was not about doing what she had promised. Why had she done all the routine things that she always did in the mornings? What did it matter if he had a clean pajama on or not, or he had breakfast or he was bated!? He was happy that she had changed her mind; on the other hand, he was angry that she had proven herself wrong. At this point he was ready to go to the hospital with less respect for Anna.
She returned to the room after five minutes which seemed like eternity to Joseph. She had a glass of water in one hand and the the bottle with the reminder of the morphine in the other hand. In his calculation there should be nine morphine in the bottle; enough to kill a man in his condition.
"Are you ready?" Her voice was hushed as though was losing its last vocal cords to talk. It seemed so emotionless. There was no compassion in it; Joseph thought. He held her hand.
"Are you mad at me? We don't have to do this. Just take me to the hospital."
"Promise is promise. That is not what you said yesterday. You were very adamant to remind me of my promise yesterday. I rather do this than taking you to the hospital. I don't want you to think that I am not an honorable woman. Nobody can say that to me. I want you to die peacefully in your bed, in your house, and next to me. Aren't these what you wanted?"
"Thank you. I've always love you."
She thought for a moment and said in her speaking mind: "You've always loved yourself." But to him, she said: "No tears. You're going to die happy. I am here next to you. I love you, too." All her muscles were tightening and she had the strongest desire to scream and to run away. But it was too late for any of those. She was determined to end it no matter the consequences. Joseph took the pills one by one and drank the water, all nine of them. Anna sat next to him, holding his hand; to be the good wife until the last moment. To do her duty always. Why was she like that? She looked intensely at him. She was also holding her first cry for the later. After a short time, she saw his muscles were stiffening in her hand. She squeezed his hand hard. He responded back.
All of him, pain, sickness, hatred, all of his remaining energy were tightening in front of her eyes. She actually could feel the condensation of his muscles. Everything was an absolute concentration for a rush, for an attack, for a movement. But it was silence. "Oh, my God, what have I done?" She screamed; but her voice would not come out. She put her hand inside his throat to help him vomit; but no that did not happen either. Then suddenly all the muscles in his body relaxed. She could hear a man in the street was talking; and she waited; gathering all of herself into a readiness for a charge, for an attack as soon as the man in the street would talk more. Why did they interfere with her solitude? And then suddenly in the midst of his death, it was beauty, it was peace.
Anna let go of his hand; and kissed his closed, lifeless lips that were still warm. Tears finally found a way to rush down her face; her first cry ever. She looked at Joseph once more, sleeping so silently and peacefully at last there; and walked out of the room to the living room. She sat on the sofa, started a cigarette, and gazed into the morning brightness through the window. Tear flooded down her face; and she started another cigarette.
Was it worth it? She was not sure. Was her life worth it? She was not sure. Was forty seven years, everything she had done, everything she had not done, her loving too much, her giving too much, her dedication too much, were all those worth this moment?
The phone was in her hand the entire time she was sitting on the sofa. She started another cigarette and then dialed the three famous number.
"911, what is your emergency?"
THE END
To all my readers, I am greatly appreciated that you all took time from your busy schedule and read my novel, THE FIRST CRY. I hope you enjoyed reading it and leave me your comment about it.
Now I will start to present to you another novel of mine, ODYSSEY OF THE MIND. This one again has the two cultural dimension in it; and it is the closest to my heart among my writing. This one has more extensive description of revolution, the cultures, and the lives of people before, during and after revolution. Many characters in this book are the people I know. There are times that readers even myself think that the hero of the book is myself. Like most writers, I get my inspirations from an article here, a story there, and incident in my own family, and then weave them all together and make them a novel.
I hope you enjoy reading this second book.
With my greatest gratitude,
Ellie Kamran- Belfiglio
She remembered the time that they were going on a vacation and she had stayed up all night being so excited. She loved to travel; or better yet she used to love to travel. On that holiday, she was so overwhelmed for being a child. How wonderful was to be a child, to have an older brother who pretended was her age and gave in to her whims, to have parents that had done anything for you to protect you. On those days, gone days which never would return since all the players were dead except her, she had looked forward for the tomorrows, she wanted more of them; now she did not even want to live to see tomorrow.
Joseph, in bed, was aware that his wife was not in bed. In his delirious mind which pain had hurt and changed it so much, he all of sudden understood the position he was placing Anna in. He had gotten to the point, he thought, that he had outlived his love, humanity, but he had not outlived the consequences of his recklessness. The wheels were in motion; and nobody could stop them any more. He knew where she was, their favorite place on earth, the gazebo. He wished he could join her, or had the strength to call her. He recalled their intellectual discourses. He had found the perfect wife, friend, partner, and now he had to put her through this! Didn't she have enough of her own? He felt guilty for requesting such thing from her; but at the same time, he did not have the courage to do it himself. He knew how to do it; he knew it all along, but how could he? He was not a Roman soldier to fall on his sword. At this point he wondered if he loved her more than she loved him! If she said yes, tomorrow, it meant that she loved him more. That would take courage, love, loyalty, all the things she had. He was not a brave man. He thought what would he do if it was him that had given such promise to Anna! He thought hard about it. The conclusion was ugly. He most likely use his legal power to take her to the hospital and to leave her there. He came to understand that Anna's upbringing and her father's teaching had taught her to be an honorable woman no matter the consequences. What an exceptional woman she was. He thought if he had the chance of living not dying, he would write about her and put her in the history book as a historian that he was; for courage like that was not found only amongst the bravest soldiers but a woman like her.
*
Anna came inside at six in the morning. She was sober. She had not had even a sip of the brandy; but she had smoked two packs of cigarette. Joseph was awake. In fact, he was awake all night. Anna looked pale and gloomy. She walked to the bedroom. They both looked at each other like two strangers.
"I thought I give you some breakfast first." Her voice was hushed up by the affect of smoking and crying too much.
Joseph's eyes were welling up with tears. Anna swallowed hers. He wanted to tell her that it was very cruel of him to request such thing from her; but she had already left the room and gone to the kitchen.
In the tray, there were toasts, orange juice, and coffee for both. She sat on the bed with the tray at her side and gently and calmly cut the toasts in small pieces; put some butter and strawberry jam on them, and began putting them in his mouth slowly and deliberately one by one. Then she wiped clean his mouth with a wet cloth. Then she gave him his daily bath, massaged his feet and legs, changed his pajama, and then left the room. For a moment Joseph thought that she was not about doing what she had promised. Why had she done all the routine things that she always did in the mornings? What did it matter if he had a clean pajama on or not, or he had breakfast or he was bated!? He was happy that she had changed her mind; on the other hand, he was angry that she had proven herself wrong. At this point he was ready to go to the hospital with less respect for Anna.
She returned to the room after five minutes which seemed like eternity to Joseph. She had a glass of water in one hand and the the bottle with the reminder of the morphine in the other hand. In his calculation there should be nine morphine in the bottle; enough to kill a man in his condition.
"Are you ready?" Her voice was hushed as though was losing its last vocal cords to talk. It seemed so emotionless. There was no compassion in it; Joseph thought. He held her hand.
"Are you mad at me? We don't have to do this. Just take me to the hospital."
"Promise is promise. That is not what you said yesterday. You were very adamant to remind me of my promise yesterday. I rather do this than taking you to the hospital. I don't want you to think that I am not an honorable woman. Nobody can say that to me. I want you to die peacefully in your bed, in your house, and next to me. Aren't these what you wanted?"
"Thank you. I've always love you."
She thought for a moment and said in her speaking mind: "You've always loved yourself." But to him, she said: "No tears. You're going to die happy. I am here next to you. I love you, too." All her muscles were tightening and she had the strongest desire to scream and to run away. But it was too late for any of those. She was determined to end it no matter the consequences. Joseph took the pills one by one and drank the water, all nine of them. Anna sat next to him, holding his hand; to be the good wife until the last moment. To do her duty always. Why was she like that? She looked intensely at him. She was also holding her first cry for the later. After a short time, she saw his muscles were stiffening in her hand. She squeezed his hand hard. He responded back.
All of him, pain, sickness, hatred, all of his remaining energy were tightening in front of her eyes. She actually could feel the condensation of his muscles. Everything was an absolute concentration for a rush, for an attack, for a movement. But it was silence. "Oh, my God, what have I done?" She screamed; but her voice would not come out. She put her hand inside his throat to help him vomit; but no that did not happen either. Then suddenly all the muscles in his body relaxed. She could hear a man in the street was talking; and she waited; gathering all of herself into a readiness for a charge, for an attack as soon as the man in the street would talk more. Why did they interfere with her solitude? And then suddenly in the midst of his death, it was beauty, it was peace.
Anna let go of his hand; and kissed his closed, lifeless lips that were still warm. Tears finally found a way to rush down her face; her first cry ever. She looked at Joseph once more, sleeping so silently and peacefully at last there; and walked out of the room to the living room. She sat on the sofa, started a cigarette, and gazed into the morning brightness through the window. Tear flooded down her face; and she started another cigarette.
Was it worth it? She was not sure. Was her life worth it? She was not sure. Was forty seven years, everything she had done, everything she had not done, her loving too much, her giving too much, her dedication too much, were all those worth this moment?
The phone was in her hand the entire time she was sitting on the sofa. She started another cigarette and then dialed the three famous number.
"911, what is your emergency?"
THE END
To all my readers, I am greatly appreciated that you all took time from your busy schedule and read my novel, THE FIRST CRY. I hope you enjoyed reading it and leave me your comment about it.
Now I will start to present to you another novel of mine, ODYSSEY OF THE MIND. This one again has the two cultural dimension in it; and it is the closest to my heart among my writing. This one has more extensive description of revolution, the cultures, and the lives of people before, during and after revolution. Many characters in this book are the people I know. There are times that readers even myself think that the hero of the book is myself. Like most writers, I get my inspirations from an article here, a story there, and incident in my own family, and then weave them all together and make them a novel.
I hope you enjoy reading this second book.
With my greatest gratitude,
Ellie Kamran- Belfiglio
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Thirty Six ()()()() Tomorrow
It was as if for the first time she was seeing this skinny child, her fifty nine years old husband. Why was he unloved? Why was she unloved? She walked to the door and left the room as abruptly as she could. She needed to get away for awhile. She needed unaffected air, she needed to see the wild flowers she had seen with Melisa, going to her sister's in Canton, even though in July they were all dead. She needed to see the blue sky, as blue as it could be without the interference of any cloud. She felt suffocated in that house. Walls seemed coming together to chock her. She went back to the room. Joseph's eyes were still fixed on the ceiling.
"I need to get out for a minute. Are you going to be okay?"
His eyes moved but not his face: " I understand. I'll be fine." He stammered.
Anna picked up her car key and her purse and ran outside. There was nothing close by to give her that sense of freedom she was yearning for; freedom from all these responsibilities, chains, and strangulation. Everything around was man- made, streets, lights, houses, even a man- made lake not that far. She needed to be with a naked nature, a pure nature that no man ever had the power to touch it; and that required driving far, very far, out to the country. But how could she do that? The thought of running away entered her mind; but no, no, she was to do her duty until the last second of her last breath. She should go back to Joseph, her sick, dying, and demanding husband. She thought what she had conquered in her life was the darkness made by open arms of God; silence which was not solitude but a hush holding its breath. Torn between flying off, going away, disappearing, and returning home to her dying Joseph, she finally decided to just drive around the neighborhood for awhile.
Some small children in a park not far from her home, were playing. Some mothers were running after them. An ice cream truck driver was engaged selling ice cream to some of those children. Life everywhere seemed normal. She wished to stop and talk to those people about her life and tell them what she was about to do tomorrow morning. She recalled a conversation she had with Mary, her old friend, the other day. Mary was suspicious. She was insisting that Anna would take Joseph to hospital. She was just acting like a mother that Anna wanted her to be for her. At one point of their conversation she said: "You know you need to absorb the color of life, but never remember its detail; because details are always boring." She did not tell Mary that she did not understand her at the time, but now she knew what Mary was saying to her. Yes, she was intense; Mary was right. Being honorable, as her father had taught her, now was there to haunt her. "You gave your word to me." Joseph had reminded her of that so many times that if she would hear it one more time, she perhaps would scream. She parked the car, turned off the engine, and brought the window down. She wanted to hear the sound of life, the simple ones and the complicated ones. However the sound of life there was all simple. Mothers calling their children, "Don't run, be careful, oh, it's okay, Let me kiss it and make it better..." She never had any of these simple things. Her life had been one intensity after another one. She envisioned tomorrow and the day after that, and the next... She envisioned Mary visiting her in prison. " Tell me what you've done. I would rather know the painful truth than imagine it." That was Mary; how she talked, or acted, blunt, to the point, but kind, kind, ... She thought about calling her. But on the second thought, "no, I can't do this to her." Her daughter just had a baby; and she was staying with her. She started the engine. Sweat was running down her back. She turned the air condition on as high as it could go; and its murmuring sound distracted her for a moment.
In the next street, there was a grocery store she always shopped. The parking lot was full with cars. Everywhere she looked, life appeared normal. She wondered if any of these people knew her pain or any of them had any pain of some sort; and if they did, why the acted so normal. She studied herself. Was she acting normal? Could people tell what she was going through?
The dusk was opening its wing over the vast sky, and the sun looked like a globe of fire. It was a lovely scene. The globe of fire stretched its wings all around with color of orange and purple and .... She would be back home in ten minutes. She knew herself well. She was not the type to run away. She had never run away. She had always faced the problems straight and forward. She sat in the car in front of her home for unknown time, pondering about tomorrow. What would be like for her tomorrow? Would she survive; and if she would how? How would she live? Would she be a widow again for the second time at age forty seven?
Tomorrow would be a new day or new misery! Would it be easy or heartbreaking? Her poor children were all gone, whom she loved as their were really hers. She loved her jobs with its miseries and its happiness. When a child was cured and was going home, she always was static. When a child dyed of his or her disease, a part of her dyed, too. She remembered her brother, Aria, Steve, her father, mother, and Stacy, oh, Stacy. They were all her children. Now this last unruly child, Joseph, this skinny, unsightly man, whom she adored, who wanted too much and he would sit still and was hard to make him listen. Was he the last she could love? Would he be gone tomorrow? What a great price she had paid for love all her life! She could and would not break her promise; and what was the sense of breaking it? No mother wanted to see her child in that much misery, pain, and close to death for two years! No, she had to, she should; that was the right thing to do. That would be the value she put on her love for him. But would she be able to love again? Would she be able to work again? Would she be prosecuted for speeding her husband's death? She called it mercy killing. She did not know the answer of any these, and at this point it did not matter. She did not want the sympathy of others. She had come to this world all alone, emigrated to America all alone; and now she would endure and face all the consequences all alone, too. But being lonely again! Oh, how awful it was to be forlorn, abandoned. If she could just turn the wheel of her fortune or undo everything! No, It would not work that way. Life never worked that way. You never get a second Chance. History books were filled with dead people. She would be dead one day, too; but her name would not be in any history book. What a shame! The names like Khomeini, Hitler, who had slain so many innocent people were in those books; and historians would write about more corrupt leaders to come in future, more dictators, more blood suckers who would do anything for money and power; but never the name of the uncorrupted, ordinary people. Why was it like that?
To Be Continued
"I need to get out for a minute. Are you going to be okay?"
His eyes moved but not his face: " I understand. I'll be fine." He stammered.
Anna picked up her car key and her purse and ran outside. There was nothing close by to give her that sense of freedom she was yearning for; freedom from all these responsibilities, chains, and strangulation. Everything around was man- made, streets, lights, houses, even a man- made lake not that far. She needed to be with a naked nature, a pure nature that no man ever had the power to touch it; and that required driving far, very far, out to the country. But how could she do that? The thought of running away entered her mind; but no, no, she was to do her duty until the last second of her last breath. She should go back to Joseph, her sick, dying, and demanding husband. She thought what she had conquered in her life was the darkness made by open arms of God; silence which was not solitude but a hush holding its breath. Torn between flying off, going away, disappearing, and returning home to her dying Joseph, she finally decided to just drive around the neighborhood for awhile.
Some small children in a park not far from her home, were playing. Some mothers were running after them. An ice cream truck driver was engaged selling ice cream to some of those children. Life everywhere seemed normal. She wished to stop and talk to those people about her life and tell them what she was about to do tomorrow morning. She recalled a conversation she had with Mary, her old friend, the other day. Mary was suspicious. She was insisting that Anna would take Joseph to hospital. She was just acting like a mother that Anna wanted her to be for her. At one point of their conversation she said: "You know you need to absorb the color of life, but never remember its detail; because details are always boring." She did not tell Mary that she did not understand her at the time, but now she knew what Mary was saying to her. Yes, she was intense; Mary was right. Being honorable, as her father had taught her, now was there to haunt her. "You gave your word to me." Joseph had reminded her of that so many times that if she would hear it one more time, she perhaps would scream. She parked the car, turned off the engine, and brought the window down. She wanted to hear the sound of life, the simple ones and the complicated ones. However the sound of life there was all simple. Mothers calling their children, "Don't run, be careful, oh, it's okay, Let me kiss it and make it better..." She never had any of these simple things. Her life had been one intensity after another one. She envisioned tomorrow and the day after that, and the next... She envisioned Mary visiting her in prison. " Tell me what you've done. I would rather know the painful truth than imagine it." That was Mary; how she talked, or acted, blunt, to the point, but kind, kind, ... She thought about calling her. But on the second thought, "no, I can't do this to her." Her daughter just had a baby; and she was staying with her. She started the engine. Sweat was running down her back. She turned the air condition on as high as it could go; and its murmuring sound distracted her for a moment.
In the next street, there was a grocery store she always shopped. The parking lot was full with cars. Everywhere she looked, life appeared normal. She wondered if any of these people knew her pain or any of them had any pain of some sort; and if they did, why the acted so normal. She studied herself. Was she acting normal? Could people tell what she was going through?
The dusk was opening its wing over the vast sky, and the sun looked like a globe of fire. It was a lovely scene. The globe of fire stretched its wings all around with color of orange and purple and .... She would be back home in ten minutes. She knew herself well. She was not the type to run away. She had never run away. She had always faced the problems straight and forward. She sat in the car in front of her home for unknown time, pondering about tomorrow. What would be like for her tomorrow? Would she survive; and if she would how? How would she live? Would she be a widow again for the second time at age forty seven?
Tomorrow would be a new day or new misery! Would it be easy or heartbreaking? Her poor children were all gone, whom she loved as their were really hers. She loved her jobs with its miseries and its happiness. When a child was cured and was going home, she always was static. When a child dyed of his or her disease, a part of her dyed, too. She remembered her brother, Aria, Steve, her father, mother, and Stacy, oh, Stacy. They were all her children. Now this last unruly child, Joseph, this skinny, unsightly man, whom she adored, who wanted too much and he would sit still and was hard to make him listen. Was he the last she could love? Would he be gone tomorrow? What a great price she had paid for love all her life! She could and would not break her promise; and what was the sense of breaking it? No mother wanted to see her child in that much misery, pain, and close to death for two years! No, she had to, she should; that was the right thing to do. That would be the value she put on her love for him. But would she be able to love again? Would she be able to work again? Would she be prosecuted for speeding her husband's death? She called it mercy killing. She did not know the answer of any these, and at this point it did not matter. She did not want the sympathy of others. She had come to this world all alone, emigrated to America all alone; and now she would endure and face all the consequences all alone, too. But being lonely again! Oh, how awful it was to be forlorn, abandoned. If she could just turn the wheel of her fortune or undo everything! No, It would not work that way. Life never worked that way. You never get a second Chance. History books were filled with dead people. She would be dead one day, too; but her name would not be in any history book. What a shame! The names like Khomeini, Hitler, who had slain so many innocent people were in those books; and historians would write about more corrupt leaders to come in future, more dictators, more blood suckers who would do anything for money and power; but never the name of the uncorrupted, ordinary people. Why was it like that?
To Be Continued
Monday, July 26, 2010
Thirty Six [][][][] Tomorrow
It was a July afternoon, a mid summer heat and humidity. Anna noticed that Joseph amazingly had a little color on his face, like a little blush that had painted his sick face. She knew that was sign of nothing. At this point he was all skin and bones. Being a nurse practitioner for so long, she knew all kind of things. He perhaps was using his last energy to talk to her for the last time. But she was fearful; she was horrified by that sight. She knew what that talk would be about. She laid next to him with her hands clasped behind her neck. He was hesitant; nonetheless, he slid his hand under her head. She turned to him.
"I want to make love to you." His voice was barely audible.
She shook all over. She did not want to tell him that he was too weak for love making; or that kind of excitement was too overwhelming for him. He read all these in her eyes.
"I know what you're thinking. I want you to make love to me."
She understood what he meant. She knew this would be the last time. Oh, how much she had yearned their intimacy. She had never done this; to be the aggressor, but she had to, this last time.
They had a gentle, yet fierce passage of love. Both were satisfied. Then she, all alleviated by the suppressed passion and want, stayed next to him in bed, holding his hand. His eyes were fixed on the ceiling.
"If you love me, you help me die!"
Oh, hadn't she heard those words before? When was it? Where was it? She suddenly remembered her last trip to Iran, when her father had a heart attack. Then he had told her: "If you love me you go back." Her father had been afraid for her safety because of the revolution. Was Joseph, her husband afraid for the burden that he was, or was it for ending his own misery? What would happen to her after? He perhaps did not care. Did he really love her? If he did, how could he ask her such thing? Would her father ever request anyone to fall in that kind of trouble to save himself? No, she did not think so. Her father would even put his own life in front of the people whom worked for him to save them. Even though at the end they all betrayed him. Shahzdeh was an honorable man; and he had taught her to be honorable as well. No, Joseph and Shahzdeh were two different men. She got up from bed, stood next to bed, thinking. She thought about going to the den and call for an ambulance. He had lost his authority for his life when he had signed on the dotted line and gave her that authority. Why can't she use it? What is stopping her of doing what was right at that moment? On the other hand, did their marriage and their good years mean nothing to her? Anna bent on the bed, and kissed his lips and walked towards the door to leave the room and make that phone call. She had a set smile on her face that did not match her anguish.
"You're leaving me!" She could hardly hear him.
"I am going to call for an ambulance."
"You promised me never let me die in a hospital." He had a weak voice, yet it sounded authoritarian.
That, she had promised. She stood frozen at the foot of the bed. World was turning around her. She was tired anyway. She could not think about her future anymore.
"Tomorrow morning!"
He smiled.
*
To Be Continued
"I want to make love to you." His voice was barely audible.
She shook all over. She did not want to tell him that he was too weak for love making; or that kind of excitement was too overwhelming for him. He read all these in her eyes.
"I know what you're thinking. I want you to make love to me."
She understood what he meant. She knew this would be the last time. Oh, how much she had yearned their intimacy. She had never done this; to be the aggressor, but she had to, this last time.
They had a gentle, yet fierce passage of love. Both were satisfied. Then she, all alleviated by the suppressed passion and want, stayed next to him in bed, holding his hand. His eyes were fixed on the ceiling.
"If you love me, you help me die!"
Oh, hadn't she heard those words before? When was it? Where was it? She suddenly remembered her last trip to Iran, when her father had a heart attack. Then he had told her: "If you love me you go back." Her father had been afraid for her safety because of the revolution. Was Joseph, her husband afraid for the burden that he was, or was it for ending his own misery? What would happen to her after? He perhaps did not care. Did he really love her? If he did, how could he ask her such thing? Would her father ever request anyone to fall in that kind of trouble to save himself? No, she did not think so. Her father would even put his own life in front of the people whom worked for him to save them. Even though at the end they all betrayed him. Shahzdeh was an honorable man; and he had taught her to be honorable as well. No, Joseph and Shahzdeh were two different men. She got up from bed, stood next to bed, thinking. She thought about going to the den and call for an ambulance. He had lost his authority for his life when he had signed on the dotted line and gave her that authority. Why can't she use it? What is stopping her of doing what was right at that moment? On the other hand, did their marriage and their good years mean nothing to her? Anna bent on the bed, and kissed his lips and walked towards the door to leave the room and make that phone call. She had a set smile on her face that did not match her anguish.
"You're leaving me!" She could hardly hear him.
"I am going to call for an ambulance."
"You promised me never let me die in a hospital." He had a weak voice, yet it sounded authoritarian.
That, she had promised. She stood frozen at the foot of the bed. World was turning around her. She was tired anyway. She could not think about her future anymore.
"Tomorrow morning!"
He smiled.
*
To Be Continued
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Thirty Six, Tomorrow
Tomorrow which its sorrow
Deludes the wisdom in marrow.
Yet its phantom leaves the last.
Tomorrow revivifies in that vast
Of all those misleading seeds;
Though it does not renew the seldom deeds.
The first cry of that sorrow
Rives the heart when it comes tomorrow.
*
In the first three years of that heavenly marriage, Anna felt something that words could not describe it. Everything that she had ever dreamed about, she had in those three years. Joseph could not be any more perfect for her or eccentric her as people called her. But now after the two excruciating years, she felt more and more about the unjustness of God, if he ever existed. "Why me?"
For some time, that vast darkness of past was not her enemy anymore; but it was her comfort. Now she was drawing back to her old habit; now everything was becoming obscure again. She remembered Joseph had told her once, at the beginning of his sickness, that death was not a one time event. She had not understood it then; but she knew now what he meant since death was permanent; and permanent meant continuous, forever. Therefore, death was not a one time event. Then another time he had told her that you are as the challenges you face. This one she understood, for it indicated how strong she had been and was, for the challenges she had faced were not only so many but arduous ones, too. She did not belong to the majority of people who did not defy any dares; and if they did, their confrontations were nothing compare to hers.
If only she could not tremble looking at the map of Iran, or the pictures of her family, including Steve, since Joseph did not mind her to display his picture, but she did tremble any time she looked at those. How could she stop this train of vision, this monstrous thought of coming to the surface again and again? They all started afresh after the beginning of Joseph's sickness. And how could they not?
Now perhaps, in this last significant moment of her life, when she had to decide on an important issue, life or death issue, her action was ruled by explicit conscience of what to do or what was the absoluteness in that action. However it was mostly by this internal inclination which came from her inner soul.
Joseph had refused to take his morphine for the entire week. She knew why and he knew why. Anna had hidden them somewhere in the den, so he could not easily reach them at the night stand and use them all. She just did not want to face this woeful surprise. On the other hand, as much as she loved him, she was also angry at him for his request. " You're a nurse. You know what to do?" It seemed to her that now that he was in so much pain, he loved no one, not even her; nonetheless, she knew that was not true. Probably one of the reason that he had lasted two yeas, not six months, was his love for her and her strength for him.
The sight of him, being in so much in pain and wanting so much to die was devastating to Anna. Cancer had metastasized, and now was every where. What would happen to her if she helped him to die? The words, "death is not a one time event" kept echoing in her ears. Death, did it matter for a cancer ravaged Joseph? She would escape to another room when he was aware or awake, so as he would not ask that question with his eyes. Nevertheless, what was the sense of prolonging the pain, the misery? She brainstormed other options like taking him to the hospital, or asking his doctor to order to take him to the hospital; so she could lift this great burden off her shoulder; but she knew any of those options were like being untrue to what she had promised him at the beginning of his cancer when the doctor had said that he had only six months to live. Then he made her to promise him not hospital or nursing home. "I want to die at home." When she had given him that promise, she had never thought that one day he would beg her for other things.
To Be Continued
Deludes the wisdom in marrow.
Yet its phantom leaves the last.
Tomorrow revivifies in that vast
Of all those misleading seeds;
Though it does not renew the seldom deeds.
The first cry of that sorrow
Rives the heart when it comes tomorrow.
*
In the first three years of that heavenly marriage, Anna felt something that words could not describe it. Everything that she had ever dreamed about, she had in those three years. Joseph could not be any more perfect for her or eccentric her as people called her. But now after the two excruciating years, she felt more and more about the unjustness of God, if he ever existed. "Why me?"
For some time, that vast darkness of past was not her enemy anymore; but it was her comfort. Now she was drawing back to her old habit; now everything was becoming obscure again. She remembered Joseph had told her once, at the beginning of his sickness, that death was not a one time event. She had not understood it then; but she knew now what he meant since death was permanent; and permanent meant continuous, forever. Therefore, death was not a one time event. Then another time he had told her that you are as the challenges you face. This one she understood, for it indicated how strong she had been and was, for the challenges she had faced were not only so many but arduous ones, too. She did not belong to the majority of people who did not defy any dares; and if they did, their confrontations were nothing compare to hers.
If only she could not tremble looking at the map of Iran, or the pictures of her family, including Steve, since Joseph did not mind her to display his picture, but she did tremble any time she looked at those. How could she stop this train of vision, this monstrous thought of coming to the surface again and again? They all started afresh after the beginning of Joseph's sickness. And how could they not?
Now perhaps, in this last significant moment of her life, when she had to decide on an important issue, life or death issue, her action was ruled by explicit conscience of what to do or what was the absoluteness in that action. However it was mostly by this internal inclination which came from her inner soul.
Joseph had refused to take his morphine for the entire week. She knew why and he knew why. Anna had hidden them somewhere in the den, so he could not easily reach them at the night stand and use them all. She just did not want to face this woeful surprise. On the other hand, as much as she loved him, she was also angry at him for his request. " You're a nurse. You know what to do?" It seemed to her that now that he was in so much pain, he loved no one, not even her; nonetheless, she knew that was not true. Probably one of the reason that he had lasted two yeas, not six months, was his love for her and her strength for him.
The sight of him, being in so much in pain and wanting so much to die was devastating to Anna. Cancer had metastasized, and now was every where. What would happen to her if she helped him to die? The words, "death is not a one time event" kept echoing in her ears. Death, did it matter for a cancer ravaged Joseph? She would escape to another room when he was aware or awake, so as he would not ask that question with his eyes. Nevertheless, what was the sense of prolonging the pain, the misery? She brainstormed other options like taking him to the hospital, or asking his doctor to order to take him to the hospital; so she could lift this great burden off her shoulder; but she knew any of those options were like being untrue to what she had promised him at the beginning of his cancer when the doctor had said that he had only six months to live. Then he made her to promise him not hospital or nursing home. "I want to die at home." When she had given him that promise, she had never thought that one day he would beg her for other things.
To Be Continued
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Thirty Five -_-_-_-_- Transformation
As spring neared, Anna felt an unconfined joy and a new hope from her new vitality. She had listened to Melisa's advice and had found great relaxation in Dancing to the disco music. She would dance to the fast disco music for hours until she was completely out of breath, sweaty , and her heart began pounding. But the feeling that followed was what relaxed her more than anything else. After taking a shower, she always felt as though she had an orgasm. Now she understood what Melisa meant by the usefulness of exercise, which was not only good for body but for the mental relaxation.
Feeling the relief of her tension was not enough anymore. She would dream more often now; but not about the tragic happening of her life. Her dreams were now more about intimacy. Every of those dreams would begin by Steve passing his arm gently under her sleeping head, and turning her over; and then it was kisses, all those passionate kisses that she had forgotten about.
She talked to Melisa about her dreams. Melisa told her that it was normal to dream about love making and since Steve was the only man she had ever known in an intimate way, again it was normal to dream about their good time, not that nightmare that she had tolerated for over twenty years of seeing her dead husband in blood.
Besides having a professional relation with Melisa, they turned to become good friends; and hesitantly Anna went places with Melisa, who was also single. In fact she was a nun in her younger age. For some reason, she would not talk about it, she left Catholic church, put herself through school, and became a therapist. She was at least twenty years older than Anna. She was never married, but always had a boyfriend. and had a very active social life. Every time that they went out together, Many men approached Anna for dance or just a simple talk; but this last shell was too hard to break easily.
In May, she went out of town with Melisa to somewhere east. Melisa was visiting her sister in Canton. She said it would take only less than two hours to get there. On the way, they saw the extensive carpets of buds of Bluebonnet, which is named "Texas Flower". It was the most beautiful exhibition of nature Anna had seen. All the blue Bluebonnet moving on the direction of the soft breeze and among the bluebonnet there were some few other color flowers which dancing with the breeze.
"Please stop the car." Anna cried.
They walked on that cherished field which was filled with wild spring flowers amongst the Bluebonnets. Anna thought while trees endured all faces of the nature year around, these flowers, wild or not, only flourished for a short time; and then would die when the hot sun of June or July would penetrate them. She was sadden by her thought; but at least for now, these breathtaking flowers gave her a sense of vitality she seldom knew. She talked to Melisa about her feelings while they were walking.; and then, only then she learned that if the flowers die, their seeds never die, and they come back year after year. They were Texas pride and they would not die. They gave each other a promise to come every year and watch the beautiful nature at work.
At Melisa's sister home, Anna felt at ease right away. In fact, she liked Melisa's sister and her style of living right away. The room was filled with those wild flowers. Even the walls took in the colors of those flowers. Everything was rich in color. The breeze was coming through the open windows and it felt wonderful. They were served fresh homemade lemonade. Melisa's sister was a widow for twenty years. Her children were grown and gone; and she she lived in that house for the last fifty years since she had married her husband. The country living seemed simple, yet fruitful and prolific. Anna yearned that kind of life.
She began thinking about moving out to the country, quitting her job, and dedicating herself to writing, playing music, and even farming. But all these needed plan, credit, and the dedication. She had the credit and the dedication but not the plan. In the next six months beside working and seeing Melisa, she visited many country site around Texas. In hope of finding the perfect place, she kept delaying her goal. Every time the realtor showed her a place, first she loved it, and then she always said:
"What if there is somewhere better than this!?"
Perhaps this was another dream of her that she did not have the courage to bring it to reality; nonetheless, she kept looking.
She would go and visit her mother's grave once a month. There, she was confident that her mother had not left her with the guilt of her death. Now she was free, free of chains. To her, her mother had a freedom to walk towards unknown destination and to feel breeze on her face. She had the freedom to open her arms and run, as she had perhaps done in her childhood; and felt the soft air and the relaxation of her muscles. Nothing could cloud her perception any longer; since freedom for her was luxury and its price was her death.
Sometimes, Anna would drive, gripping tightly the wheel, as other cars sped past her, and felt a mystical magic. Then she would go to places she did not know, little towns with only one small grocery store, and country sites with wild flowers, only to see that she was lost not only in the meaning of losing one's way, but in the meaning of "LOST". She became very sufficient reading road maps, and finding her way back; however she was still LOST. She even learned about short cuts and farm roads; but she was still LOST. But she loved being LOST. She felt in that mental stage, there were nothing of past that could haunt her any longer.
Now, at age forty two, she had finally found happiness in her solitary life. Now she knew that the wind would carry the dust from the graves of the three men she loved from as far as Iran or as close as Washington. She did not need to be there in person to visit dad, Aria, or Steve. She knew all these new revelations had a purpose. And their intent were to disappear swiftly from the violence of mankind according to the law of nature, destiny, the fate of her inborn land, and all her family. The dust now was a pure and welcome dust which smelled like perfume not dead.
*
At that dinner dance, Anna was angry that Melisa had set her up. She had promised to be there, too. Therefore, this was Anna's first attendance in a social gathering by herself. She stood by the exit door, while vacillating to leave or remain. Someone else was standing and feeling as she did. At the moment that she decided to leave, that someone walked to her. He was a man in his fifties, not very attractive. Anna did not know his intention. "Is he coming to me?" She thought. She wanted to get away and at the same time she wanted to stay. That some one, the man in his fifties, reached her and said: "Will you dance with me?"
Anna did not know what was the proper way of saying no. However when she looked at him, she noticed that he had the kindest eyes she had known for the longest time.
"Sure."
To Be Continued
Feeling the relief of her tension was not enough anymore. She would dream more often now; but not about the tragic happening of her life. Her dreams were now more about intimacy. Every of those dreams would begin by Steve passing his arm gently under her sleeping head, and turning her over; and then it was kisses, all those passionate kisses that she had forgotten about.
She talked to Melisa about her dreams. Melisa told her that it was normal to dream about love making and since Steve was the only man she had ever known in an intimate way, again it was normal to dream about their good time, not that nightmare that she had tolerated for over twenty years of seeing her dead husband in blood.
Besides having a professional relation with Melisa, they turned to become good friends; and hesitantly Anna went places with Melisa, who was also single. In fact she was a nun in her younger age. For some reason, she would not talk about it, she left Catholic church, put herself through school, and became a therapist. She was at least twenty years older than Anna. She was never married, but always had a boyfriend. and had a very active social life. Every time that they went out together, Many men approached Anna for dance or just a simple talk; but this last shell was too hard to break easily.
In May, she went out of town with Melisa to somewhere east. Melisa was visiting her sister in Canton. She said it would take only less than two hours to get there. On the way, they saw the extensive carpets of buds of Bluebonnet, which is named "Texas Flower". It was the most beautiful exhibition of nature Anna had seen. All the blue Bluebonnet moving on the direction of the soft breeze and among the bluebonnet there were some few other color flowers which dancing with the breeze.
"Please stop the car." Anna cried.
They walked on that cherished field which was filled with wild spring flowers amongst the Bluebonnets. Anna thought while trees endured all faces of the nature year around, these flowers, wild or not, only flourished for a short time; and then would die when the hot sun of June or July would penetrate them. She was sadden by her thought; but at least for now, these breathtaking flowers gave her a sense of vitality she seldom knew. She talked to Melisa about her feelings while they were walking.; and then, only then she learned that if the flowers die, their seeds never die, and they come back year after year. They were Texas pride and they would not die. They gave each other a promise to come every year and watch the beautiful nature at work.
At Melisa's sister home, Anna felt at ease right away. In fact, she liked Melisa's sister and her style of living right away. The room was filled with those wild flowers. Even the walls took in the colors of those flowers. Everything was rich in color. The breeze was coming through the open windows and it felt wonderful. They were served fresh homemade lemonade. Melisa's sister was a widow for twenty years. Her children were grown and gone; and she she lived in that house for the last fifty years since she had married her husband. The country living seemed simple, yet fruitful and prolific. Anna yearned that kind of life.
She began thinking about moving out to the country, quitting her job, and dedicating herself to writing, playing music, and even farming. But all these needed plan, credit, and the dedication. She had the credit and the dedication but not the plan. In the next six months beside working and seeing Melisa, she visited many country site around Texas. In hope of finding the perfect place, she kept delaying her goal. Every time the realtor showed her a place, first she loved it, and then she always said:
"What if there is somewhere better than this!?"
Perhaps this was another dream of her that she did not have the courage to bring it to reality; nonetheless, she kept looking.
She would go and visit her mother's grave once a month. There, she was confident that her mother had not left her with the guilt of her death. Now she was free, free of chains. To her, her mother had a freedom to walk towards unknown destination and to feel breeze on her face. She had the freedom to open her arms and run, as she had perhaps done in her childhood; and felt the soft air and the relaxation of her muscles. Nothing could cloud her perception any longer; since freedom for her was luxury and its price was her death.
Sometimes, Anna would drive, gripping tightly the wheel, as other cars sped past her, and felt a mystical magic. Then she would go to places she did not know, little towns with only one small grocery store, and country sites with wild flowers, only to see that she was lost not only in the meaning of losing one's way, but in the meaning of "LOST". She became very sufficient reading road maps, and finding her way back; however she was still LOST. She even learned about short cuts and farm roads; but she was still LOST. But she loved being LOST. She felt in that mental stage, there were nothing of past that could haunt her any longer.
Now, at age forty two, she had finally found happiness in her solitary life. Now she knew that the wind would carry the dust from the graves of the three men she loved from as far as Iran or as close as Washington. She did not need to be there in person to visit dad, Aria, or Steve. She knew all these new revelations had a purpose. And their intent were to disappear swiftly from the violence of mankind according to the law of nature, destiny, the fate of her inborn land, and all her family. The dust now was a pure and welcome dust which smelled like perfume not dead.
*
At that dinner dance, Anna was angry that Melisa had set her up. She had promised to be there, too. Therefore, this was Anna's first attendance in a social gathering by herself. She stood by the exit door, while vacillating to leave or remain. Someone else was standing and feeling as she did. At the moment that she decided to leave, that someone walked to her. He was a man in his fifties, not very attractive. Anna did not know his intention. "Is he coming to me?" She thought. She wanted to get away and at the same time she wanted to stay. That some one, the man in his fifties, reached her and said: "Will you dance with me?"
Anna did not know what was the proper way of saying no. However when she looked at him, she noticed that he had the kindest eyes she had known for the longest time.
"Sure."
To Be Continued
Friday, July 23, 2010
Thirty Five, Transformation
Neither mystery untangles itself in hate,
Nor It rebounds for having fate.
Like obstructed ashes that listen
To the sparkles which without doubt glisten.
*
In that vast void, only the rocks got
Endurance that we want and have not.
But we say no word, hear no what.
And only dust rises after us about.
*
Be insane but also look at the sun.
Not like a drunken, who's got none.
Should you transform, don't be pain.
Be an ocean, a love, or just a rain.
*
The sky looked as collections of all Anna loved in this world. Abandoned by destiny, her story of how she got there would be told. She would be saved by her own energy and will power. Her journey had not been an ordinary one, for she had traveled in this journey with a great importance. Wasn't that how America constructed, immigrants like her and the ones before her?
The ideas she had had for her life, now were not harmonious with her senses. They rebelled against each other. But the ideas were true without any defiance. She had gone a long way heedless. Now she knew that she had climbed the road of a translucent and flawless inner nature of all things.
The grievance of this final savagery was too immense that instead of scolding herself, she simply listened to Mary and went to see Melisa, the therapist, for the first time. Melisa knew immediately that she was not dealing with an ordinary woman; therefore she needed her patent's help in order to help her unresolved anger. After some routine talk which included a summation of Anna's life Melisa asked her; "How do you feel now?"
Anna withdrew first; and then she went to a deep thinking. "How did she feel?" Her answer esoteric and startled Melisa:
"Defeated."
"What do you mean?"
"I have used many words for what I've gone through, but the true word that I have never used is defeated. I am defeated by all I had hoped for or wanted. I thought if I live within my imagination and the memory of all I loved, I would become one of them, or at least I would feel what they felt at their last moments; but it didn't happen that way." Anna stopped talking abruptly.
Melisa looked at her, she wanted her to talk more in this first visit. "Go on."
"Can I read you a poem I wrote first?" And then without waiting for her answer, she took a piece of paper from her purse and read:
"Should be lost who I loved in crowd
"My eyes would rain with cloud.
"Should I find my lost ones on time
"I would enchant a poem with rhyme.
"When I was married, you know, it lasted only one month, I thought that life with Steve was an ongoing, permanent looking forward, better years, children, and growing old together. Losing him like that, at the moment that our lives together were just beginning, was very unendurable for me." She exhaled a big sigh from her mouth.
Her sadness weighted upon Melisa and they both stayed silent for awhile. Then Anna breathed heavily. She actually felt alleviation for talking to someone for the first time about true happening of her life.
"You know I insisted on coming to America. I followed my brother, whom I loved more than life. Then I hated my father because he did not want me to go and because he wanted me to marry whom he had chosen for me. But I rebelled against everything, my parents, my culture, my one time fiance, everything. Here, I think, when I came, I won the love of everyone around me, especially Stacy, whom I miss so much and I still love her like a sister."
"Who is Stacy?"
"She was my college roommate. She was Steve's sister, too. She introduced me to her brother. But after Steve's death, I thought by leaving Washington for ever, I didn't have to bear the sight of that city anymore. Stacy and I grew apart mostly because of her uncouth comment about Steve's salary; and then Steve parents sued me for his survival benefit; that is mostly why I left Washington without even saying goodbye to her or her parents. I just packed my suitcase one day after getting rid of everything and drove to Dallas."
"Why Dallas?"
"I don't know. I wanted to go as far as I could. Someone had told me about Dallas; and this city had left an impression on me. I thought I would be lost in this big city and no one would ever know about me. Then I hoped that solitude would give me strength to master my grief and anger." She stopped. The echo of her own voice overwhelmed her and she hid her face with her hands and cried.
Do you still want to talk?"
"I like to; but I am making you sad."
"No, you're not. This is my job to listen to you. Besides you are very interesting woman."
"You mean you feel nothing of what I am telling you. You're just doing your job!"
Melisa seemed astounded. "Of course I feel for you; but just like you that will not allow your emotion gets in your way of you doing your job, I can't let my emotion get the upper hand. That way I can't do my job, as you can't do your job."
"What kind of advice can you give me? I am alive, am I not? I am here.!"
"That's right. I admire you. What you've gone through can drive anyone to madness? But it seems to me by just talking to you for a short while, that you have always solved all problems that came your way, and moved on. You're a well educated, amazing woman. Mary told me that almost all your salary still goes to children charity."
"that is true. I've been in state of madness many times, but always something from inside made me bounce back. It's good to talk to someone without holding back. Even Mary doesn't know how Steve or my brother died. It's so refreshing to tell it to someone."
"You mean you haven't told anyone about all these."
"I have no friends except Mary. She is not like Stacy, even though she can be. No, even Mary doesn't know the truth about many things in my life."
"Don't you think it's time for you to socialize more? There are some support group that you can join and ..."
"No, no, I don't like that kind of therapy. I like one and one." Anna interrupted Melisa.
"What I said is not therapy. You get to meet people that have suffered like you. You get to listen to them and if you want you can talk and tell them about you. So I assume that you don't socialize or even date!"
"No,"
"When is the last time you've been with a man, I mean dated a man?"
"Never, I haven't. After Steve's death, I've never seen a man the way you mean."
"How many years?"
"Over twenty years now."
"Don't you have any feeling for men?'
"I am not sure."
"Do you dream about Steve or any man; I mean intimate dreams?"
"Sometimes, only about Steve,"
"Well, I think for today is enough, but I have an assignment for you."
"What, Am I back at school again?"
"No, you're not back at school again. If you don't help yourself, I can't help you. Do you exercise?'
"No, it's boring."
"How about dancing?"
"I like to dance; but I haven't dance since Steve's death."
"You know exercise is the greatest therapy for relieving tension. Since you don't like to exercise, why don't you take some dance classes, or just dance at home."
"Alone!"
"Yes, alone; play a music you like and dance alone; perhaps in front of a mirror. Tell me about it next Wednesday when we see each other again. By the way what kind of music you like?"
"For dancing, disco; for listening, classical." Suddenly she remembered her piano; her playing the piano.
"You know I used to play piano."
"Why and when did you stop?"
"I stopped after Steve's was killed."
Melisa's eyes glistened by the unwanted tears.
"I see you next Wednesday; and then we talk about piano. By the way I liked your poem. It said all about you. I bet it makes you feel good when you write or when you played piano."
"Yes, it does and it did. I see you next Wednesday."
*
To Be Continued
Nor It rebounds for having fate.
Like obstructed ashes that listen
To the sparkles which without doubt glisten.
*
In that vast void, only the rocks got
Endurance that we want and have not.
But we say no word, hear no what.
And only dust rises after us about.
*
Be insane but also look at the sun.
Not like a drunken, who's got none.
Should you transform, don't be pain.
Be an ocean, a love, or just a rain.
*
The sky looked as collections of all Anna loved in this world. Abandoned by destiny, her story of how she got there would be told. She would be saved by her own energy and will power. Her journey had not been an ordinary one, for she had traveled in this journey with a great importance. Wasn't that how America constructed, immigrants like her and the ones before her?
The ideas she had had for her life, now were not harmonious with her senses. They rebelled against each other. But the ideas were true without any defiance. She had gone a long way heedless. Now she knew that she had climbed the road of a translucent and flawless inner nature of all things.
The grievance of this final savagery was too immense that instead of scolding herself, she simply listened to Mary and went to see Melisa, the therapist, for the first time. Melisa knew immediately that she was not dealing with an ordinary woman; therefore she needed her patent's help in order to help her unresolved anger. After some routine talk which included a summation of Anna's life Melisa asked her; "How do you feel now?"
Anna withdrew first; and then she went to a deep thinking. "How did she feel?" Her answer esoteric and startled Melisa:
"Defeated."
"What do you mean?"
"I have used many words for what I've gone through, but the true word that I have never used is defeated. I am defeated by all I had hoped for or wanted. I thought if I live within my imagination and the memory of all I loved, I would become one of them, or at least I would feel what they felt at their last moments; but it didn't happen that way." Anna stopped talking abruptly.
Melisa looked at her, she wanted her to talk more in this first visit. "Go on."
"Can I read you a poem I wrote first?" And then without waiting for her answer, she took a piece of paper from her purse and read:
"Should be lost who I loved in crowd
"My eyes would rain with cloud.
"Should I find my lost ones on time
"I would enchant a poem with rhyme.
"When I was married, you know, it lasted only one month, I thought that life with Steve was an ongoing, permanent looking forward, better years, children, and growing old together. Losing him like that, at the moment that our lives together were just beginning, was very unendurable for me." She exhaled a big sigh from her mouth.
Her sadness weighted upon Melisa and they both stayed silent for awhile. Then Anna breathed heavily. She actually felt alleviation for talking to someone for the first time about true happening of her life.
"You know I insisted on coming to America. I followed my brother, whom I loved more than life. Then I hated my father because he did not want me to go and because he wanted me to marry whom he had chosen for me. But I rebelled against everything, my parents, my culture, my one time fiance, everything. Here, I think, when I came, I won the love of everyone around me, especially Stacy, whom I miss so much and I still love her like a sister."
"Who is Stacy?"
"She was my college roommate. She was Steve's sister, too. She introduced me to her brother. But after Steve's death, I thought by leaving Washington for ever, I didn't have to bear the sight of that city anymore. Stacy and I grew apart mostly because of her uncouth comment about Steve's salary; and then Steve parents sued me for his survival benefit; that is mostly why I left Washington without even saying goodbye to her or her parents. I just packed my suitcase one day after getting rid of everything and drove to Dallas."
"Why Dallas?"
"I don't know. I wanted to go as far as I could. Someone had told me about Dallas; and this city had left an impression on me. I thought I would be lost in this big city and no one would ever know about me. Then I hoped that solitude would give me strength to master my grief and anger." She stopped. The echo of her own voice overwhelmed her and she hid her face with her hands and cried.
Do you still want to talk?"
"I like to; but I am making you sad."
"No, you're not. This is my job to listen to you. Besides you are very interesting woman."
"You mean you feel nothing of what I am telling you. You're just doing your job!"
Melisa seemed astounded. "Of course I feel for you; but just like you that will not allow your emotion gets in your way of you doing your job, I can't let my emotion get the upper hand. That way I can't do my job, as you can't do your job."
"What kind of advice can you give me? I am alive, am I not? I am here.!"
"That's right. I admire you. What you've gone through can drive anyone to madness? But it seems to me by just talking to you for a short while, that you have always solved all problems that came your way, and moved on. You're a well educated, amazing woman. Mary told me that almost all your salary still goes to children charity."
"that is true. I've been in state of madness many times, but always something from inside made me bounce back. It's good to talk to someone without holding back. Even Mary doesn't know how Steve or my brother died. It's so refreshing to tell it to someone."
"You mean you haven't told anyone about all these."
"I have no friends except Mary. She is not like Stacy, even though she can be. No, even Mary doesn't know the truth about many things in my life."
"Don't you think it's time for you to socialize more? There are some support group that you can join and ..."
"No, no, I don't like that kind of therapy. I like one and one." Anna interrupted Melisa.
"What I said is not therapy. You get to meet people that have suffered like you. You get to listen to them and if you want you can talk and tell them about you. So I assume that you don't socialize or even date!"
"No,"
"When is the last time you've been with a man, I mean dated a man?"
"Never, I haven't. After Steve's death, I've never seen a man the way you mean."
"How many years?"
"Over twenty years now."
"Don't you have any feeling for men?'
"I am not sure."
"Do you dream about Steve or any man; I mean intimate dreams?"
"Sometimes, only about Steve,"
"Well, I think for today is enough, but I have an assignment for you."
"What, Am I back at school again?"
"No, you're not back at school again. If you don't help yourself, I can't help you. Do you exercise?'
"No, it's boring."
"How about dancing?"
"I like to dance; but I haven't dance since Steve's death."
"You know exercise is the greatest therapy for relieving tension. Since you don't like to exercise, why don't you take some dance classes, or just dance at home."
"Alone!"
"Yes, alone; play a music you like and dance alone; perhaps in front of a mirror. Tell me about it next Wednesday when we see each other again. By the way what kind of music you like?"
"For dancing, disco; for listening, classical." Suddenly she remembered her piano; her playing the piano.
"You know I used to play piano."
"Why and when did you stop?"
"I stopped after Steve's was killed."
Melisa's eyes glistened by the unwanted tears.
"I see you next Wednesday; and then we talk about piano. By the way I liked your poem. It said all about you. I bet it makes you feel good when you write or when you played piano."
"Yes, it does and it did. I see you next Wednesday."
*
To Be Continued
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Thirty Four {}{}{}{} Nature's Might
For the last three months, Anna's mother was in the hospice section of the nursing home. What did it mean? She knew what that monstrous word meant but she wanted to translate it in a different way. "No, not end of life, not no hope." There was no light at the end of this dark tunnel for her poor mother; and she hated to admit that she wished a halt for this prolonged misery. She thought about her mother's life and gradually she understood her bitterness when she was not in this desperate condition. Standing behind the window, looking at the wild storm, she investigated her mother's life. She would be forty one years old in a little over a week. Her life was even more vain than her mother's. What was the reason of their lives? Why some people's lives was doomed from the beginning? She did not know the answer.
In her cold, lonely bed, all her past marched in front of her eyes like a passing train. Her swift imagination moved back and forth to pleasant memories and then to the ones she wanted to forget. She remembered that inauspicious morning when she had found Steve drowned in his blood in bed next to her. That vision was so real as if was happening at the present moment. She stretched her hand to touch him, but her hand got wet with his blood. She could see his lifeless body; but his face was hollow. There was no face, no eyes, as though a wild animal had had a feast by ravaging his face.
Then it was Aria's image that tortured her. Oh, God, how much she loved her older brother! Then it came her father's image. If he had been stern towards many people including her mother, he was the best father any girl could wish for. Where was he now? Was all his body transfigured to skeleton? Did the insects ravaged all his flesh by now? She even did not know where he was buried. She had never had the chance to say good-bye to him or to pay her last respect.
After a night of retrospecting, at six in the morning, Anna was warming her car to go to see her mother. Her eyes were red and swollen of not sleeping and crying the entire night. Streets were covered with a sheet of ice. Backing up her car, the tires skidded and she almost hit the car next to hers. Her heart began palpitating. Her mother's new shawl was inside a gift wrapped box on the passenger seat. "I Hope she likes it." She said aloud.
There was no traffic in the streets. It seemed as if the big D was dead. "It is Saturday morning." She thought. It was not raining anymore; but the nature had done its damage. She saw many abandoned cars on the highway, many left over accidents from the early morning commuters. If she could only concentrate on the road, she would make it safely. Over a bridge, her car skidded and she almost hit the concrete medium. The car turned around and faced the opposite direction before she was able to stop it. The workers who were throwing sands on the bridge came to her help. She was so frightened that she did not know how to rescue herself. One of the worker drove her car until it was not on the bridge anymore.
"Be careful. What are you doing out this early Saturday morning?'
"I am going to see my mother." She answered. "Thanks for helping me."
If she could only hold the steering wheel tight and do not push the break suddenly as that worker had told her, she could make it. The twenty minutes drive took her over one hour. She parked the car, picked her mother's gift, and walked into the building. It was seven thirty in the morning.
Inside the building, one of the nurses who knew Anna caught a glimpse of her. The nurse ran after her since Anna was walking so fast. When she finally caught up with Anna, she said: "Did you get our message?"
Anna's heart stopped beating. "What message?"
"We left you a message at six thirty."
"I was on the road coming here. What happened? Is my mom okay?"
"I am sorry. That is why we wanted to contact you. We found her dead this morning. I think she passed early in the morning because I checked on her at three and she was asleep."
Anna could not believe how matter of factly the nurse spoke to her. Her mouth was dry. She felt tears welling up. Her throat was tight. The gift wrapped box of her mother's shawl fell on the floor and she ran to her mother's room. She found her mom in her bed peaceful at last. The color of her face was pink, like a baby; her eyes closed, perhaps resting of a long life of struggle. She had never seen her mother this beautiful. The nurse, who had followed her to the room, handed her the box. She ripped the gift paper from the box and took out the shawl; cast out the blanket on the floor and covered her mother with the shawl. "Mom, I thought you may like this." Tears finally came down in streams. She began combing her mother's white hair; fixing the pillow under her head, and straightening her dress. She took the shawl and wrapped it around her mother's shoulders; picked up the blanket and covered the rest of her body that was not covered with shawl.
The doctor told her that she had died at six in the morning without regaining her consciousness.
"I didn't know that she was unconscious." Anna's eyes pierced the doctor through.
"I assume she was."
*
Anna drove. The sky was blue now. The ice on the road was mostly melted. She drove and drove. She did not know where she was going or running away from. There were some billowy white clouds in the sky. She stopped the car, got out, and walked for awhile. She did not know where she was. Nobody was there. As she stood there, leaning to the concrete shoulder of the highway, wind was blowing her hair. The weather had strangely changed from the twenty of yesterday to upper fifties. She whispered:
"Now I am alone again. I can't even go to my home."
In that moment she knew that imagination meant the savage loneliness, the empty roads with no lights at dusk. She watched a big truck passed by taking with it all her hopes. It passed over a bridge and then it was gone for ever. She looked around. Every direction she looked, there was nothing but horizon. There was not even a bird, a tree, a mountain, a lake, nothing. The only thing there was nothingness. It was only the highway winding to eternity. She felt as though the nature had forsaken her with no friends, no hope, and no place to go.
She remembered her mother's motionless face which showed no sign of living as if she never existed. Getting back into her car, she took a last glimpse of the sky. Somewhere in west sun was in fire. It was the most beautiful picture she had seen. The rays of that orange ball penetrated her existence. She halted for a second. The sky was unbroken, not like her heart; but like a perfect dream. She sighed.
"Tomorrow is a new day!"
To Be Continued
In her cold, lonely bed, all her past marched in front of her eyes like a passing train. Her swift imagination moved back and forth to pleasant memories and then to the ones she wanted to forget. She remembered that inauspicious morning when she had found Steve drowned in his blood in bed next to her. That vision was so real as if was happening at the present moment. She stretched her hand to touch him, but her hand got wet with his blood. She could see his lifeless body; but his face was hollow. There was no face, no eyes, as though a wild animal had had a feast by ravaging his face.
Then it was Aria's image that tortured her. Oh, God, how much she loved her older brother! Then it came her father's image. If he had been stern towards many people including her mother, he was the best father any girl could wish for. Where was he now? Was all his body transfigured to skeleton? Did the insects ravaged all his flesh by now? She even did not know where he was buried. She had never had the chance to say good-bye to him or to pay her last respect.
After a night of retrospecting, at six in the morning, Anna was warming her car to go to see her mother. Her eyes were red and swollen of not sleeping and crying the entire night. Streets were covered with a sheet of ice. Backing up her car, the tires skidded and she almost hit the car next to hers. Her heart began palpitating. Her mother's new shawl was inside a gift wrapped box on the passenger seat. "I Hope she likes it." She said aloud.
There was no traffic in the streets. It seemed as if the big D was dead. "It is Saturday morning." She thought. It was not raining anymore; but the nature had done its damage. She saw many abandoned cars on the highway, many left over accidents from the early morning commuters. If she could only concentrate on the road, she would make it safely. Over a bridge, her car skidded and she almost hit the concrete medium. The car turned around and faced the opposite direction before she was able to stop it. The workers who were throwing sands on the bridge came to her help. She was so frightened that she did not know how to rescue herself. One of the worker drove her car until it was not on the bridge anymore.
"Be careful. What are you doing out this early Saturday morning?'
"I am going to see my mother." She answered. "Thanks for helping me."
If she could only hold the steering wheel tight and do not push the break suddenly as that worker had told her, she could make it. The twenty minutes drive took her over one hour. She parked the car, picked her mother's gift, and walked into the building. It was seven thirty in the morning.
Inside the building, one of the nurses who knew Anna caught a glimpse of her. The nurse ran after her since Anna was walking so fast. When she finally caught up with Anna, she said: "Did you get our message?"
Anna's heart stopped beating. "What message?"
"We left you a message at six thirty."
"I was on the road coming here. What happened? Is my mom okay?"
"I am sorry. That is why we wanted to contact you. We found her dead this morning. I think she passed early in the morning because I checked on her at three and she was asleep."
Anna could not believe how matter of factly the nurse spoke to her. Her mouth was dry. She felt tears welling up. Her throat was tight. The gift wrapped box of her mother's shawl fell on the floor and she ran to her mother's room. She found her mom in her bed peaceful at last. The color of her face was pink, like a baby; her eyes closed, perhaps resting of a long life of struggle. She had never seen her mother this beautiful. The nurse, who had followed her to the room, handed her the box. She ripped the gift paper from the box and took out the shawl; cast out the blanket on the floor and covered her mother with the shawl. "Mom, I thought you may like this." Tears finally came down in streams. She began combing her mother's white hair; fixing the pillow under her head, and straightening her dress. She took the shawl and wrapped it around her mother's shoulders; picked up the blanket and covered the rest of her body that was not covered with shawl.
The doctor told her that she had died at six in the morning without regaining her consciousness.
"I didn't know that she was unconscious." Anna's eyes pierced the doctor through.
"I assume she was."
*
Anna drove. The sky was blue now. The ice on the road was mostly melted. She drove and drove. She did not know where she was going or running away from. There were some billowy white clouds in the sky. She stopped the car, got out, and walked for awhile. She did not know where she was. Nobody was there. As she stood there, leaning to the concrete shoulder of the highway, wind was blowing her hair. The weather had strangely changed from the twenty of yesterday to upper fifties. She whispered:
"Now I am alone again. I can't even go to my home."
In that moment she knew that imagination meant the savage loneliness, the empty roads with no lights at dusk. She watched a big truck passed by taking with it all her hopes. It passed over a bridge and then it was gone for ever. She looked around. Every direction she looked, there was nothing but horizon. There was not even a bird, a tree, a mountain, a lake, nothing. The only thing there was nothingness. It was only the highway winding to eternity. She felt as though the nature had forsaken her with no friends, no hope, and no place to go.
She remembered her mother's motionless face which showed no sign of living as if she never existed. Getting back into her car, she took a last glimpse of the sky. Somewhere in west sun was in fire. It was the most beautiful picture she had seen. The rays of that orange ball penetrated her existence. She halted for a second. The sky was unbroken, not like her heart; but like a perfect dream. She sighed.
"Tomorrow is a new day!"
To Be Continued
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Thirty Four ///// Nature's Might
Anna closed her eyes. She was tired as her mother was. But soon she forgot her fatigue looking at her poor mother sitting there with the light weighted blanket over her shoulder and looking at her with spiritless eyes. "What is she feeling?" Anna thought. "what is she thinking? Does she think I am here because it is a right thing to visit your sick mother?" She could see the meaningless smile in the corner of her mother's mouth which did not match the misery she was going through.
Her mother had done things that she had never imagined, had said words that constantly echoed in her ears, and had asked questions of past, her past which Anna was not sure how to answer them when she was well. Now in that colorless nursing home full of artificial colors, she was just contented with the little importance of present. And what was the glory to her? Anna did not know.
She studied Alzheimer disease and talked to her mother's doctor; however the conclusion was that this dreadful monster was not curable and gradually all brain cells would die or be damaged beyond repair. Her mother's symptoms were not only memory loss which was typical for this disease, but it was also enfeebled disablement in her mental and bodily functional conduct. How long would she last so the suffering would end? Nobody knew.
At one point, Anna decided to take her mom back home and hire a nurse, but Fatie's doctor thought that was not a good idea. She needed round a clock observation and care. There was no possibility for Anna to give that attention to her mother. A nurse would not stay 24/7. She looked into her mother's hollow eyes that blinked uncontrollably. Her face was as white as the color of her hair. "Mom, talk to me. Tell me what you're thinking!" Anna would ask Fatie hoping she might one day answer her.
She found all these by no means consoling and doubted if there was any virtue in the fairness of God. By the law of nature, she knew all living things should die one day; but could it be any easy, painless death instead of a prolonged disease, or the killing of the enemy, or the massacre of people who had different opinion or religion? How Could God create people like Hitler or Khomeini, or the dictators that wanted everything for themselves? She just could not grip any longer the pain in her mother's bony face.
After a year Fatie being in the nursing home with all the medical expenses and the cost of the hotel like nursing home which the insurance covered only a small portion of it, and medicare had sent her a letter that her mother had used all her benefits, Anna was drained of energy and money; but she still was getting her check from CIA and she still was working but not full time anymore because of caring for her mother. The reduction of money and energy for the first time affected her in a very peculiar way. She looked at people without problem, she assumed, and faintly and sardonically envied them contrary to a smile on her face. Her life, she thought, since she was a teenager to present that she was a grown up woman had been one misery and disaster after the other.
She was glad that she was single, away from the emotion of being in love with a man; for falling in love to her could not happen more than once. However she still remembered the intensity and fervor of her first love. It had been passion, fire, and a strain, too. But now at age forty one, she looked at married couple with children and then looked at her empty life, empty bed, the responsibilities, and all the tragedies. Was life worth all these? She did not even remember how it was to sleep with a man or have an orgasm. No, she just did not have any memory of it; no remembrance of warmth, comfort, love, passion, or even kissing or snuggling. Suddenly everything was dark.
All these non- existing memories took her back more into herself, into her despondency, and introspection. They all had been her demons for many years. Her letter to Stacy remained unanswered; so she had finally given up. Seeing her mother everyday, she also wondered if her mother in her non- functioning state, felt as she did. Wanting to believe that her mother was still thinking and feeling, she wondered if that old soul traveled into her past with Anna, her daughter, who was an oblivious witness of her mother's fancy.
Fatie was so silent yet reflective that Anna thought that she could swiftly erase not only herself but her soul and spirit which would startle her daughter. Anna tried to read her mind, to see if there were any feelings or thought left there; but disappointed she knew that the people around her mother did not mean anything to her; and world had just lost its glory to her so had for Anna. Her mother had passed that line between awareness and numbness, and she had chosen the second one with no return.
In one of her vision, she recalled her first sight of Iran, thirteen years ago, when something had stormed into her soul like a sudden rain. Then she had just oscillated thanking God for seeing that sacred land again in which her ancestors had cried, lived, died; and in which she was born. Now that land, to her, was gone, so were her fathers and mothers. The greatness of it was over. That land had slain her dreams.
Now confidence was not a quality she valued. In fact, she valued nothing, for she did not want to get disheartened by her own self- assurance. Occasional elation she felt, was like a drunken ecstasy. She hardly could rescue herself from her dark prison, her mind's prison.
One afternoon in December, a sudden cold front came through Dallas from west. The twenty degree temperature pierced her through. She remembered that morning she had all the windows open. Since her mother's rescue from Turkey, Anna lived on a first floor apartment which had two full bath. At the time she wanted to do every right thing for her mother. This place had north and side windows that Anna always opened them to air the house. That was how most houses in Iran were built. Having fresh air was one of her luxuries; and she knew that her mother liked it, too. Now this; the famous saying that Texas weather changes with a blink of an eye. It was Friday and she was happy that she did not have to work for the next three days. Mary had asked her if she wanted to go Christmas shopping with her and then have dinner at the Mal. Anna had nobody to shop for except a few people from work. She had already picked up Mary's present; nonetheless, she recalled the old, worn out blanket her mother would not let go of it.
"I guess I can buy a shawl for mom. I think she'll like it." She said to Mary.
In the Mal, she looked for a long time to find the perfect shawl for her mother. She wanted something warm and light weighted since her mother felt cold even in warm weather. Today with this sudden cold was a perfect time to give her mom the shawl. She wanted to buy something which would be lively and colorful yet conservative; and she found it in Neiman Marcus. It was a cashmere shawl, camel color, big enough to cover all her mother's body yet light enough to not irritate her. It was made in Italy and she paid a big money for it. She wanted to return home after her purchase but she felt obligated to follow Mary until she finished her shopping. Around eight they ate pizza and watched the frenzied people doing their last minute shopping. Christmas was only a few days away.
When they left the Mal, the cold struck them both. They ran to their cars which were parked next to each other. Mary asked her if she wanted to go to her home and watch a movie with her and her husband.
"No, thanks Mary. I should be going home. The weather is really bad."
"Okay, how is your mother by the way? You don't talk about her much."
"What can I say? She is not getting any better. They told me that she is not eating. Sometimes they have to force feed her. I am so scared."
"That is a bad sign. I feel for you, Anna. Is there anything I can do?"
"No one can do anything for me or her. At the top of everything her ulcer is getting worse, too. Sometimes I feel she acts like a child, or she wants to die."
Rain started to fall with vengeance. Friends said good-bye. Driving home, the rain fell with such intensity that it bounced back from the windshield. They sounded like little rocks hitting her car. She realized that rain had changed to sleet. walking from Parking area to her apartment, the wind whistled so fiercely that she thought if there was a clarity, the judgement would be a hesitant one. She felt guilty for not seeing her mother that day; however she thought she would go the next morning no matter what the weather would be like.
To Be Continued
Her mother had done things that she had never imagined, had said words that constantly echoed in her ears, and had asked questions of past, her past which Anna was not sure how to answer them when she was well. Now in that colorless nursing home full of artificial colors, she was just contented with the little importance of present. And what was the glory to her? Anna did not know.
She studied Alzheimer disease and talked to her mother's doctor; however the conclusion was that this dreadful monster was not curable and gradually all brain cells would die or be damaged beyond repair. Her mother's symptoms were not only memory loss which was typical for this disease, but it was also enfeebled disablement in her mental and bodily functional conduct. How long would she last so the suffering would end? Nobody knew.
At one point, Anna decided to take her mom back home and hire a nurse, but Fatie's doctor thought that was not a good idea. She needed round a clock observation and care. There was no possibility for Anna to give that attention to her mother. A nurse would not stay 24/7. She looked into her mother's hollow eyes that blinked uncontrollably. Her face was as white as the color of her hair. "Mom, talk to me. Tell me what you're thinking!" Anna would ask Fatie hoping she might one day answer her.
She found all these by no means consoling and doubted if there was any virtue in the fairness of God. By the law of nature, she knew all living things should die one day; but could it be any easy, painless death instead of a prolonged disease, or the killing of the enemy, or the massacre of people who had different opinion or religion? How Could God create people like Hitler or Khomeini, or the dictators that wanted everything for themselves? She just could not grip any longer the pain in her mother's bony face.
After a year Fatie being in the nursing home with all the medical expenses and the cost of the hotel like nursing home which the insurance covered only a small portion of it, and medicare had sent her a letter that her mother had used all her benefits, Anna was drained of energy and money; but she still was getting her check from CIA and she still was working but not full time anymore because of caring for her mother. The reduction of money and energy for the first time affected her in a very peculiar way. She looked at people without problem, she assumed, and faintly and sardonically envied them contrary to a smile on her face. Her life, she thought, since she was a teenager to present that she was a grown up woman had been one misery and disaster after the other.
She was glad that she was single, away from the emotion of being in love with a man; for falling in love to her could not happen more than once. However she still remembered the intensity and fervor of her first love. It had been passion, fire, and a strain, too. But now at age forty one, she looked at married couple with children and then looked at her empty life, empty bed, the responsibilities, and all the tragedies. Was life worth all these? She did not even remember how it was to sleep with a man or have an orgasm. No, she just did not have any memory of it; no remembrance of warmth, comfort, love, passion, or even kissing or snuggling. Suddenly everything was dark.
All these non- existing memories took her back more into herself, into her despondency, and introspection. They all had been her demons for many years. Her letter to Stacy remained unanswered; so she had finally given up. Seeing her mother everyday, she also wondered if her mother in her non- functioning state, felt as she did. Wanting to believe that her mother was still thinking and feeling, she wondered if that old soul traveled into her past with Anna, her daughter, who was an oblivious witness of her mother's fancy.
Fatie was so silent yet reflective that Anna thought that she could swiftly erase not only herself but her soul and spirit which would startle her daughter. Anna tried to read her mind, to see if there were any feelings or thought left there; but disappointed she knew that the people around her mother did not mean anything to her; and world had just lost its glory to her so had for Anna. Her mother had passed that line between awareness and numbness, and she had chosen the second one with no return.
In one of her vision, she recalled her first sight of Iran, thirteen years ago, when something had stormed into her soul like a sudden rain. Then she had just oscillated thanking God for seeing that sacred land again in which her ancestors had cried, lived, died; and in which she was born. Now that land, to her, was gone, so were her fathers and mothers. The greatness of it was over. That land had slain her dreams.
Now confidence was not a quality she valued. In fact, she valued nothing, for she did not want to get disheartened by her own self- assurance. Occasional elation she felt, was like a drunken ecstasy. She hardly could rescue herself from her dark prison, her mind's prison.
One afternoon in December, a sudden cold front came through Dallas from west. The twenty degree temperature pierced her through. She remembered that morning she had all the windows open. Since her mother's rescue from Turkey, Anna lived on a first floor apartment which had two full bath. At the time she wanted to do every right thing for her mother. This place had north and side windows that Anna always opened them to air the house. That was how most houses in Iran were built. Having fresh air was one of her luxuries; and she knew that her mother liked it, too. Now this; the famous saying that Texas weather changes with a blink of an eye. It was Friday and she was happy that she did not have to work for the next three days. Mary had asked her if she wanted to go Christmas shopping with her and then have dinner at the Mal. Anna had nobody to shop for except a few people from work. She had already picked up Mary's present; nonetheless, she recalled the old, worn out blanket her mother would not let go of it.
"I guess I can buy a shawl for mom. I think she'll like it." She said to Mary.
In the Mal, she looked for a long time to find the perfect shawl for her mother. She wanted something warm and light weighted since her mother felt cold even in warm weather. Today with this sudden cold was a perfect time to give her mom the shawl. She wanted to buy something which would be lively and colorful yet conservative; and she found it in Neiman Marcus. It was a cashmere shawl, camel color, big enough to cover all her mother's body yet light enough to not irritate her. It was made in Italy and she paid a big money for it. She wanted to return home after her purchase but she felt obligated to follow Mary until she finished her shopping. Around eight they ate pizza and watched the frenzied people doing their last minute shopping. Christmas was only a few days away.
When they left the Mal, the cold struck them both. They ran to their cars which were parked next to each other. Mary asked her if she wanted to go to her home and watch a movie with her and her husband.
"No, thanks Mary. I should be going home. The weather is really bad."
"Okay, how is your mother by the way? You don't talk about her much."
"What can I say? She is not getting any better. They told me that she is not eating. Sometimes they have to force feed her. I am so scared."
"That is a bad sign. I feel for you, Anna. Is there anything I can do?"
"No one can do anything for me or her. At the top of everything her ulcer is getting worse, too. Sometimes I feel she acts like a child, or she wants to die."
Rain started to fall with vengeance. Friends said good-bye. Driving home, the rain fell with such intensity that it bounced back from the windshield. They sounded like little rocks hitting her car. She realized that rain had changed to sleet. walking from Parking area to her apartment, the wind whistled so fiercely that she thought if there was a clarity, the judgement would be a hesitant one. She felt guilty for not seeing her mother that day; however she thought she would go the next morning no matter what the weather would be like.
To Be Continued
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Thirty Four, Nature's Might
The glimmer, let it not
Glow meager but about.
And above those eyes that have not
What most living have, and you not.
*
There, in that boundless nullity's night
Be true to nature and it's might.
And let not a shallow rapture's delight
Take you to the fears plight.
*
And live there anew and be one with earth.
Your soul's life will renew its birth
When many never reborn after death,
But you can take a new, fresh breath.
*
Life in general was not cheerful, but now was more stagnant and darker than before. Frequently Anna thought about her life. She was forty years old now, who had lived for the past ten years with her bitter mother. But now her seventy years old mother was ill. She began forgetting things, misplacing things. It came a point that sometimes she did not even recognize Anna. Torn between her job and taking care of her mother, she thought her career was the only leisure thing she had and it was and had been for good deeds. How could she quit that and stay home with her mother? Therefore she hired a sitter who would keep her mother from harming herself, feed her and make sure that she was eating but not playing with her food, and she was not walking away and far from house and be lost. It all worked out for awhile and then sitter quit. She said she could not communicate with Fatie who did not speak English.
Talking to her mother's doctor, he recommended that nursing home was her best choice. As hard as it was for her to do that, she felt she had no other option, so she did it. One good thing about it was that her mother at this point did not know what Anna had done to complain about it and tell her that under the same circumstances she had done the same for her father; and besides she started to like the nursing home. There were seldom days that Anna was not able to visit her mother. Those days were her worst. She felt as though she had abandoned her mother and she felt guilty for putting her in the nursing home; nonetheless, she knew that was a logical things. Every evening after work, she would buy herself and mother food and go there and they had dinner together. Mother had a private room and she was in the best nursing home that Anna knew about.
Her mother's empty place at home was devastating; and she wondered day after day if the sense of guilt that had captured her since her mother was gone had any validity or not. All she knew that she was feeling guilty for many things and now particularly for this. She would cry and mourn looking at the pictures of her loved ones or the map of Iran, her native land. She would mourn and cry to think about them; and she would cry of the thought that her mother was in a nursing home.
She was pushing forty while her life was fruitless. She would cry hysterically for not having a child. She had this habit that if she was thirty nine and seven months old, to say that she is forty. Never in her life she had made her self younger but always the opposite. She thought about the last ten years and recalled many things about it; but one thing she remembered the most was her mother's refusal to master or at least to try to learn American culture, or the language. Now she understood why, for she, who had learned the culture, now knew how painful it was to know about those two entirely different cultures. She had never told her mother that how totally obnoxious her behavior was without breaking her self-esteem. Now she was glad that she had not.
Her mother had to live in that dull house even it was one of the best nursing home in Dallas, until her time would come; her death would appear. Her Alzheimer combined with a battle with ulcer that she had had for very long time were not getting any better. She would look at her mother's eyes with realization that her mother did not recognized her. She thought how little she knew about the pain and suffering of the older people. Somehow she always understood the pain of the children, but no, she could not understand this pain, the pain of being old.
At night she would sit in her apartment with no light thinking mostly about her last trip to Tehran, when she had last seen her father and nursed him to health, and she had seen the early morning obscurity. She would remember the day she asked Reza, her father's driver, to take her to south of Tehran. This was only a day before her departure. There, she had seen the revolutionaries much more vehement. Why had they been so heated? She slowly came to understand them, their misery, and their misfortune. But at the same time, she sighed, "why my father? He hadn't done anything to you?" She remembered the city in the early morning, which was always magnificent; even though smog with drought adhered to it. The haze of the pollution disturbed even Alborz Mountain nearby. She was happy to see that the women of her country with so much courage shared this revolution with men. But she was perceptive at the same time that she was not part of the revolution or those women. By immigrating, she had lost her voice. Their voice and what they wanted which most of them did not know what they were, was different than hers. Her idea of right and wrong was only emerged from the security of her home in America. People had asked her about which place was better to live, Iran or America; however that question always remained unanswered. She, herself, did not know the answer. She conjured up her sadness by people's lack of imagination; when they had not visualized the wretchedness of the future when the new regime would be in full power, when they took Americans hostage, and when they closed all the doors to everything civilized. The revolution took Iran back to a world of centuries before; and the little opportunities that women had during the Shah's ruling, all disappeared. Sometimes she even lied about her nationality, even though she had no accent. "Where are you from?" "Texas," "No, originally?" "Italy," She loved Italy or as Persians say "Italia."
To Be Continued
Glow meager but about.
And above those eyes that have not
What most living have, and you not.
*
There, in that boundless nullity's night
Be true to nature and it's might.
And let not a shallow rapture's delight
Take you to the fears plight.
*
And live there anew and be one with earth.
Your soul's life will renew its birth
When many never reborn after death,
But you can take a new, fresh breath.
*
Life in general was not cheerful, but now was more stagnant and darker than before. Frequently Anna thought about her life. She was forty years old now, who had lived for the past ten years with her bitter mother. But now her seventy years old mother was ill. She began forgetting things, misplacing things. It came a point that sometimes she did not even recognize Anna. Torn between her job and taking care of her mother, she thought her career was the only leisure thing she had and it was and had been for good deeds. How could she quit that and stay home with her mother? Therefore she hired a sitter who would keep her mother from harming herself, feed her and make sure that she was eating but not playing with her food, and she was not walking away and far from house and be lost. It all worked out for awhile and then sitter quit. She said she could not communicate with Fatie who did not speak English.
Talking to her mother's doctor, he recommended that nursing home was her best choice. As hard as it was for her to do that, she felt she had no other option, so she did it. One good thing about it was that her mother at this point did not know what Anna had done to complain about it and tell her that under the same circumstances she had done the same for her father; and besides she started to like the nursing home. There were seldom days that Anna was not able to visit her mother. Those days were her worst. She felt as though she had abandoned her mother and she felt guilty for putting her in the nursing home; nonetheless, she knew that was a logical things. Every evening after work, she would buy herself and mother food and go there and they had dinner together. Mother had a private room and she was in the best nursing home that Anna knew about.
Her mother's empty place at home was devastating; and she wondered day after day if the sense of guilt that had captured her since her mother was gone had any validity or not. All she knew that she was feeling guilty for many things and now particularly for this. She would cry and mourn looking at the pictures of her loved ones or the map of Iran, her native land. She would mourn and cry to think about them; and she would cry of the thought that her mother was in a nursing home.
She was pushing forty while her life was fruitless. She would cry hysterically for not having a child. She had this habit that if she was thirty nine and seven months old, to say that she is forty. Never in her life she had made her self younger but always the opposite. She thought about the last ten years and recalled many things about it; but one thing she remembered the most was her mother's refusal to master or at least to try to learn American culture, or the language. Now she understood why, for she, who had learned the culture, now knew how painful it was to know about those two entirely different cultures. She had never told her mother that how totally obnoxious her behavior was without breaking her self-esteem. Now she was glad that she had not.
Her mother had to live in that dull house even it was one of the best nursing home in Dallas, until her time would come; her death would appear. Her Alzheimer combined with a battle with ulcer that she had had for very long time were not getting any better. She would look at her mother's eyes with realization that her mother did not recognized her. She thought how little she knew about the pain and suffering of the older people. Somehow she always understood the pain of the children, but no, she could not understand this pain, the pain of being old.
At night she would sit in her apartment with no light thinking mostly about her last trip to Tehran, when she had last seen her father and nursed him to health, and she had seen the early morning obscurity. She would remember the day she asked Reza, her father's driver, to take her to south of Tehran. This was only a day before her departure. There, she had seen the revolutionaries much more vehement. Why had they been so heated? She slowly came to understand them, their misery, and their misfortune. But at the same time, she sighed, "why my father? He hadn't done anything to you?" She remembered the city in the early morning, which was always magnificent; even though smog with drought adhered to it. The haze of the pollution disturbed even Alborz Mountain nearby. She was happy to see that the women of her country with so much courage shared this revolution with men. But she was perceptive at the same time that she was not part of the revolution or those women. By immigrating, she had lost her voice. Their voice and what they wanted which most of them did not know what they were, was different than hers. Her idea of right and wrong was only emerged from the security of her home in America. People had asked her about which place was better to live, Iran or America; however that question always remained unanswered. She, herself, did not know the answer. She conjured up her sadness by people's lack of imagination; when they had not visualized the wretchedness of the future when the new regime would be in full power, when they took Americans hostage, and when they closed all the doors to everything civilized. The revolution took Iran back to a world of centuries before; and the little opportunities that women had during the Shah's ruling, all disappeared. Sometimes she even lied about her nationality, even though she had no accent. "Where are you from?" "Texas," "No, originally?" "Italy," She loved Italy or as Persians say "Italia."
To Be Continued
Monday, July 19, 2010
Thrity Three, Why
It was not till late August, when Anna had completely lost hope to hear from the smuggler that he called. By then, she had lost all the traits of trusting other humans. Then he called. He told her that he would see her in five days in Ankara, Turkey, and there and then mission would be completed. She had thought the transition would be in Istanbul. But after all the man was honest. She wrote down all she needed to know about this precious meeting. At once, after the conversation was over, she called the different airlines for her ticket. It didn't matter how high price she would pay for it because it was not bought in advance and because it was high tourism season. No, nothing mattered but seeing her mother safe and to be in her arm. And then she went to work and requested a two weeks leave of absence without pay. She had used up all her vacation time for reasons beside vacation. She thought how to bring her mother with her to America with her, but then, "One step at the time."
*
The reunion with her mother was a blissful one, even though Fatie looked very thin, worn out, and so very old. The young man, smuggler, turned out to be an honorable man, and he was nothing as Anna had imagined. He was not dirty looking with a long beard and army shirt. He was cleanly shaved, wearing a short sleeve polo shirt and a khaki pants. He was carrying a very expensive briefcase. He was medium built, not very tall, and above all he was very perspective. Anna was grateful for his moral conduct for accomplishing his mission without casting any danger for her weary and worn out mother. She paid him the rest of the money, all cash, and after that she was on her own.
Fearful, yet optimistic, she prepared all it needed to go to embassy to get a visa for her mother. "Oh, if she had gotten her green card when it was ready." She said that in her speaking mind. It was not a favorable time for an Iranian to get a visa for America; however, since she was a US Citizen and since she had petitioned to get green card for her parents, even though they had not kept their appointment, the American Consulate gave Fatie a visa. Ten days later mother and daughter were in Pan Am flying to America. For Anna, it felt as though she was flying to freedom for the second time.
*
In coming days, months, and years she was not alone anymore. She had her mother with her, a woman that she had ignored when her father was alive. However, they were like two strangers. Fatie could not understand anything her daughter did and Anna could not fathom her mother's sarcastic moaning all the time. She had become an old bitter, woman. Now there were only shadows remained of her father, Aria, or Steve; while Anna tried to feel the deliverance of those shadows.
Anytime the two women talked, it turned to be a rivalry. One thing none of them paid attention to was that both of them emanated from this verbal duel, sufferer and haunted, as well as losers. Their arguments were mostly about Shahzdeh, Anna's father, and Fatie's husband. Fatie continuously condemned him for being unkind to her while he was alive; and Anna repeatedly defended her dead father. Fatie accused Anna of loving her dead father more than her. The warfare turned to a dangerous game. There was no victory for either of them in that challenging game. A triumph for any of them proved to be uncouth; and a defeat for each was humiliation. Neither pompous ego for the winner nor sympathy for the defeated mother- daughter- enemy had any place in love. It was not the best of times for either of them.
When Finally one day Fatie told Anna that she as her daughter had never loved her, Anna exploded. She just could not believe the degree of her mother's spitefulness.
"How can you say that? Didn't I save you, bring you here, take care of you, didn't I? If I don't love you, why did I do all these?'
Fatie thought for a minute and then said: "Because it is a holly thing to take care of old parents. That is why you did it, so you don't go to hell."
"I don't believe this. I don't even believe in any religion especially your backward one. How can you say this? You think there is no morality without religion. That is absurd."
They ended up not to speak with each other for a few days. Anna did not know how to solve this problem. She just could not deal with this bitter woman, her mother, anymore. All she wanted to talk about was to complain about her past life, dead husband; and all Anna wanted was to put everything behind her and perhaps to find some peace and serenity.
She finally talked to Mary, her only friend, the one she called "my American mother" one day about all these and asked her advice. "I am going crazy. I can't handle my mother anymore."
Mary gave her many advices, but it was one of her recommendations that resolved this seven years problem for both women and for ever.
"Show her that you love her. Keep telling her that you love her."
Anna knew that she loved her mother; but had she ever told her that?"
That evening at dinner time when both were eating their dinner without talking, Anna suddenly put her fork down, got up from her chair, walked to her mother, and hugged her. When Fatie saw Anna getting up, she had thought she was going to kitchen to get something.
"Mom, I love you." Anna said while raining her mother with kisses.
Fatie was caught. She had no excuses to be bitter anymore, She heard that magic word she had never heard from Anna, which sounded very true, very genuine. She turned her face to Anna's and kissed her cheek.
"I love you, too sweetheart."
They never fought again. Love, again had come to rescue a difficult relationship and then began nurturing it.
To Be Continued
*
The reunion with her mother was a blissful one, even though Fatie looked very thin, worn out, and so very old. The young man, smuggler, turned out to be an honorable man, and he was nothing as Anna had imagined. He was not dirty looking with a long beard and army shirt. He was cleanly shaved, wearing a short sleeve polo shirt and a khaki pants. He was carrying a very expensive briefcase. He was medium built, not very tall, and above all he was very perspective. Anna was grateful for his moral conduct for accomplishing his mission without casting any danger for her weary and worn out mother. She paid him the rest of the money, all cash, and after that she was on her own.
Fearful, yet optimistic, she prepared all it needed to go to embassy to get a visa for her mother. "Oh, if she had gotten her green card when it was ready." She said that in her speaking mind. It was not a favorable time for an Iranian to get a visa for America; however, since she was a US Citizen and since she had petitioned to get green card for her parents, even though they had not kept their appointment, the American Consulate gave Fatie a visa. Ten days later mother and daughter were in Pan Am flying to America. For Anna, it felt as though she was flying to freedom for the second time.
*
In coming days, months, and years she was not alone anymore. She had her mother with her, a woman that she had ignored when her father was alive. However, they were like two strangers. Fatie could not understand anything her daughter did and Anna could not fathom her mother's sarcastic moaning all the time. She had become an old bitter, woman. Now there were only shadows remained of her father, Aria, or Steve; while Anna tried to feel the deliverance of those shadows.
Anytime the two women talked, it turned to be a rivalry. One thing none of them paid attention to was that both of them emanated from this verbal duel, sufferer and haunted, as well as losers. Their arguments were mostly about Shahzdeh, Anna's father, and Fatie's husband. Fatie continuously condemned him for being unkind to her while he was alive; and Anna repeatedly defended her dead father. Fatie accused Anna of loving her dead father more than her. The warfare turned to a dangerous game. There was no victory for either of them in that challenging game. A triumph for any of them proved to be uncouth; and a defeat for each was humiliation. Neither pompous ego for the winner nor sympathy for the defeated mother- daughter- enemy had any place in love. It was not the best of times for either of them.
When Finally one day Fatie told Anna that she as her daughter had never loved her, Anna exploded. She just could not believe the degree of her mother's spitefulness.
"How can you say that? Didn't I save you, bring you here, take care of you, didn't I? If I don't love you, why did I do all these?'
Fatie thought for a minute and then said: "Because it is a holly thing to take care of old parents. That is why you did it, so you don't go to hell."
"I don't believe this. I don't even believe in any religion especially your backward one. How can you say this? You think there is no morality without religion. That is absurd."
They ended up not to speak with each other for a few days. Anna did not know how to solve this problem. She just could not deal with this bitter woman, her mother, anymore. All she wanted to talk about was to complain about her past life, dead husband; and all Anna wanted was to put everything behind her and perhaps to find some peace and serenity.
She finally talked to Mary, her only friend, the one she called "my American mother" one day about all these and asked her advice. "I am going crazy. I can't handle my mother anymore."
Mary gave her many advices, but it was one of her recommendations that resolved this seven years problem for both women and for ever.
"Show her that you love her. Keep telling her that you love her."
Anna knew that she loved her mother; but had she ever told her that?"
That evening at dinner time when both were eating their dinner without talking, Anna suddenly put her fork down, got up from her chair, walked to her mother, and hugged her. When Fatie saw Anna getting up, she had thought she was going to kitchen to get something.
"Mom, I love you." Anna said while raining her mother with kisses.
Fatie was caught. She had no excuses to be bitter anymore, She heard that magic word she had never heard from Anna, which sounded very true, very genuine. She turned her face to Anna's and kissed her cheek.
"I love you, too sweetheart."
They never fought again. Love, again had come to rescue a difficult relationship and then began nurturing it.
To Be Continued
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Thirty Three, Why
We are pain.
We are mirrors that reflect pain.
We are eternity that tastes of pain,
Not the cold breeze that envelops pain.
*
We are question that pours into eye.
We repeat that question with a sigh.
We are places that we like to deny.
We are confused by a single why.
*
Grievance had left abstruse bruises on both Anna's heart and face. History of her country was again subjugated another period of its sacred earth. She wanted to believe that her father had died with dignity and integrity, defending his home with valiance; and when he was thrown out of his home, it was not for subdual of enemy but it was for crawling splendor. However, as she had slowly crushed into the dirt of this inhuman apathy, she knew that she had to rescue her mother, the last of her vanished family. That thought brought her resilience and unconquerable energy back. Everything seemed like an uproarious, non self controlled, and inflamed artery of her life.
Her first step was to be strong, to think, to think of a way, a solution; and when she discovered that answer to the puzzle, she called the Iranian man, Ahmad, in San Diego, who had told her about the death of her father. She thought if he could had been able to smuggle, so could her mother, no matter the cost. He was first reluctant to help Anna, but after he realized her sincerity and vehement for her poor mother, he agreed to contact a smuggler he knew and had him to contact Anna. He never told her that this man was his own smuggler. There was an honor amongst smugglers for secrecy and not being known and they expected that the people whom they had smuggled to live up with the same secrecy. She was aware of the dangerous task she was about to take on, as she had trespassed on a forbidden place; but danger for her now was only a game.
It was not easy to describe her feelings, that sudden energy and hope. She did not talk about this secret mission to anyone. That was reserved only for her. Sometimes she wished she had a brother or sister, so they could easily and without reservation plan together to save their mother. The reality of what had happened and what would happen, was stumbled down on her in a disorderly manner. She was self- assured, conscientious, and diligent; nevertheless, her hands, face, and entire existence were aflame. All she knew to be back to usual activity; including her job and to act normal, and to not talk to anyone about this matter. However, apologies was babbled not into words but into her deep and sad feeling for the lives of everyone she loved.
The smuggler called her ten days later, when she had completely lost hope that he would never contact her; or the man from San Diego had never given her massage to the smuggler. The smuggler's first question was if her mother knew of this.
"She should by now. Ahmad told me that he would have her aunt tell my mother about it."
"Good,"
Then they talked about the right time and the cost.
"I, m not sure when, but I'll let you know as soon as I know. My cost is $30,000."
Anna sighed. All her saving was a little over $20,000. But right away she thought of her youth, her CIA check and her job."
"That is a lot of money you're asking. I don't have all of it."
"How much do you have?'
"I have only $20,000." She said the truth.
"All right. I take the $20,000, only because I like you."
Suddenly Anna realized that if she had offered less money, he probably would agree to it; but now it was too late.
"You don't even know me, how come you like me?"
The smuggler realized that he was not dealing with a desperate, stupid woman. She had perhaps figured him out.
"I like you because you want to save your mother. This is an honorable thing to do."
She paused for a moment. Suddenly she could not trust him anymore.
"Can I have your number and call you back. I need to think about this." Anna's suspicion was obvious in her words.
The deal was breaking off. He knew it. He needed to repair it before hanging the phone. He knew that there were many people these days in the business of smuggling Iranian people out of country.
"I don't stay in a certain place. I am always on the go. And for the security reason, I can't give any of my phone numbers out. But you know I was the one got Ahmad out to safety. I am sure he did not tell you this. He is not supposed to; but you can ask him. Did you change your mind for money?"
"$20,000 is I all I have. I need to find someone cheaper."
"But you agreed to it."
"I didn't agree. I said that is all I have."
"How much can you spend to save your mother?"
"I can not put any amount of how much I spend to save my mother. I give my own life. But the problem is that you take her only to Turkey. I have to buy airplane ticket for both of us to get back to the States. I..."
"How about $15,000." He cut her off.
"Okay," Anna knew this is not a deal that she can do a back ground check on this Bloch man. She knew she was gambling; but she also knew that dealing with every and each of these smugglers were gamble. She had heard good and horrific stories about them. Smuggling had become a lucrative business these days amongst some Iranians specially from the eastern tribes.
"Okay, 15 it is. But you need to send the money to Turkey before..."
She rudely cut him off: "No, no, how do I know that you fulfill your mission if I pay first?"
After another ten minutes of bargaining and arguing, they finally came to an arrangement that she would send half the money to Turkey and pay the rest when she would meet her mother in Istanbul.
She had never bargained for a business deal before, but to save her mother, she was learning the traits. The time was unknown. All she knew was to wait for his call again. Then he would tell her where and when she needed to be in Turkey to meet her mother and to give him the rest of the money.
She did not consider interacting with her colleagues at work or any kind of intimate talk, being afraid that something might spill out of her mouth. Therefore it was fare to say that she did not talk to anyone, and did not participate in any social event for many months. She just went to work, did her job and returned home. The only person, who knew about this was her cousin, Fro, the one time candidate to marry her, in London. He was doing the same for his parents. In that darkness, she did not even have the courage to speak loud to herself, as though her own sound could waken the world.
Then it came this one night, to be exact, in July of 1979, that she stepped out in balcony of her apartment and sat on the only chair there. She started a cigarette and as the ring of smoke came out of her mouth, she gazed at the overwhelming beauty of the sky. Every thing was so silent that she could hear the fall of a leaf from the tree in front of her balcony. The magnificent arch of night threw a blanket over the world; and the silence became more profound. But then there was this loud cry, a passionate one which suddenly separated from a soul, her soul: "Oh, I am so lonely." The sound of her voice echoed in that space of uncertainty. She was detached from her home in Tehran for ever. She had chosen a solitary seclusion in this corner of the world. Her loud cry sounded as though it was discharged from some one else mouth. Intensely, she listened again to the echo of her own voice, which was repeating over and over again and denied its meaning. After a few minutes, she went back to the darkness of her apartment and closed the balcony door.
Sitting in the dark, she thought that she had always run away from things she could not deal with. She remembered running away from Washington to Dallas after Steve's murder. She just did not want to face facts, the reality of life. As brave as she had been, she thought, encountering all the tragedies, she was a feeble when it came to her emotions. She had searched for freedom, but what she had gained was getting away and losing her freedom in the entanglement she had created around her. Those words, "I am so lonely," pierced her through again like a sharp knife because they had come out of her own mouth and because they were her own words. The only thing she could understand from these repeated echoes of her own voice was that no longer she wanted to be alone. Soon the immutable and arduous taboo would freeze to bring her a mother's love that she once had known, even though deep in her heart she knew that kind of relationship was no longer obtainable.
To Be Continued
We are mirrors that reflect pain.
We are eternity that tastes of pain,
Not the cold breeze that envelops pain.
*
We are question that pours into eye.
We repeat that question with a sigh.
We are places that we like to deny.
We are confused by a single why.
*
Grievance had left abstruse bruises on both Anna's heart and face. History of her country was again subjugated another period of its sacred earth. She wanted to believe that her father had died with dignity and integrity, defending his home with valiance; and when he was thrown out of his home, it was not for subdual of enemy but it was for crawling splendor. However, as she had slowly crushed into the dirt of this inhuman apathy, she knew that she had to rescue her mother, the last of her vanished family. That thought brought her resilience and unconquerable energy back. Everything seemed like an uproarious, non self controlled, and inflamed artery of her life.
Her first step was to be strong, to think, to think of a way, a solution; and when she discovered that answer to the puzzle, she called the Iranian man, Ahmad, in San Diego, who had told her about the death of her father. She thought if he could had been able to smuggle, so could her mother, no matter the cost. He was first reluctant to help Anna, but after he realized her sincerity and vehement for her poor mother, he agreed to contact a smuggler he knew and had him to contact Anna. He never told her that this man was his own smuggler. There was an honor amongst smugglers for secrecy and not being known and they expected that the people whom they had smuggled to live up with the same secrecy. She was aware of the dangerous task she was about to take on, as she had trespassed on a forbidden place; but danger for her now was only a game.
It was not easy to describe her feelings, that sudden energy and hope. She did not talk about this secret mission to anyone. That was reserved only for her. Sometimes she wished she had a brother or sister, so they could easily and without reservation plan together to save their mother. The reality of what had happened and what would happen, was stumbled down on her in a disorderly manner. She was self- assured, conscientious, and diligent; nevertheless, her hands, face, and entire existence were aflame. All she knew to be back to usual activity; including her job and to act normal, and to not talk to anyone about this matter. However, apologies was babbled not into words but into her deep and sad feeling for the lives of everyone she loved.
The smuggler called her ten days later, when she had completely lost hope that he would never contact her; or the man from San Diego had never given her massage to the smuggler. The smuggler's first question was if her mother knew of this.
"She should by now. Ahmad told me that he would have her aunt tell my mother about it."
"Good,"
Then they talked about the right time and the cost.
"I, m not sure when, but I'll let you know as soon as I know. My cost is $30,000."
Anna sighed. All her saving was a little over $20,000. But right away she thought of her youth, her CIA check and her job."
"That is a lot of money you're asking. I don't have all of it."
"How much do you have?'
"I have only $20,000." She said the truth.
"All right. I take the $20,000, only because I like you."
Suddenly Anna realized that if she had offered less money, he probably would agree to it; but now it was too late.
"You don't even know me, how come you like me?"
The smuggler realized that he was not dealing with a desperate, stupid woman. She had perhaps figured him out.
"I like you because you want to save your mother. This is an honorable thing to do."
She paused for a moment. Suddenly she could not trust him anymore.
"Can I have your number and call you back. I need to think about this." Anna's suspicion was obvious in her words.
The deal was breaking off. He knew it. He needed to repair it before hanging the phone. He knew that there were many people these days in the business of smuggling Iranian people out of country.
"I don't stay in a certain place. I am always on the go. And for the security reason, I can't give any of my phone numbers out. But you know I was the one got Ahmad out to safety. I am sure he did not tell you this. He is not supposed to; but you can ask him. Did you change your mind for money?"
"$20,000 is I all I have. I need to find someone cheaper."
"But you agreed to it."
"I didn't agree. I said that is all I have."
"How much can you spend to save your mother?"
"I can not put any amount of how much I spend to save my mother. I give my own life. But the problem is that you take her only to Turkey. I have to buy airplane ticket for both of us to get back to the States. I..."
"How about $15,000." He cut her off.
"Okay," Anna knew this is not a deal that she can do a back ground check on this Bloch man. She knew she was gambling; but she also knew that dealing with every and each of these smugglers were gamble. She had heard good and horrific stories about them. Smuggling had become a lucrative business these days amongst some Iranians specially from the eastern tribes.
"Okay, 15 it is. But you need to send the money to Turkey before..."
She rudely cut him off: "No, no, how do I know that you fulfill your mission if I pay first?"
After another ten minutes of bargaining and arguing, they finally came to an arrangement that she would send half the money to Turkey and pay the rest when she would meet her mother in Istanbul.
She had never bargained for a business deal before, but to save her mother, she was learning the traits. The time was unknown. All she knew was to wait for his call again. Then he would tell her where and when she needed to be in Turkey to meet her mother and to give him the rest of the money.
She did not consider interacting with her colleagues at work or any kind of intimate talk, being afraid that something might spill out of her mouth. Therefore it was fare to say that she did not talk to anyone, and did not participate in any social event for many months. She just went to work, did her job and returned home. The only person, who knew about this was her cousin, Fro, the one time candidate to marry her, in London. He was doing the same for his parents. In that darkness, she did not even have the courage to speak loud to herself, as though her own sound could waken the world.
Then it came this one night, to be exact, in July of 1979, that she stepped out in balcony of her apartment and sat on the only chair there. She started a cigarette and as the ring of smoke came out of her mouth, she gazed at the overwhelming beauty of the sky. Every thing was so silent that she could hear the fall of a leaf from the tree in front of her balcony. The magnificent arch of night threw a blanket over the world; and the silence became more profound. But then there was this loud cry, a passionate one which suddenly separated from a soul, her soul: "Oh, I am so lonely." The sound of her voice echoed in that space of uncertainty. She was detached from her home in Tehran for ever. She had chosen a solitary seclusion in this corner of the world. Her loud cry sounded as though it was discharged from some one else mouth. Intensely, she listened again to the echo of her own voice, which was repeating over and over again and denied its meaning. After a few minutes, she went back to the darkness of her apartment and closed the balcony door.
Sitting in the dark, she thought that she had always run away from things she could not deal with. She remembered running away from Washington to Dallas after Steve's murder. She just did not want to face facts, the reality of life. As brave as she had been, she thought, encountering all the tragedies, she was a feeble when it came to her emotions. She had searched for freedom, but what she had gained was getting away and losing her freedom in the entanglement she had created around her. Those words, "I am so lonely," pierced her through again like a sharp knife because they had come out of her own mouth and because they were her own words. The only thing she could understand from these repeated echoes of her own voice was that no longer she wanted to be alone. Soon the immutable and arduous taboo would freeze to bring her a mother's love that she once had known, even though deep in her heart she knew that kind of relationship was no longer obtainable.
To Be Continued
Saturday, July 17, 2010
Thirty Two ///// Ruination
Anna knew that rioters despised people like her father; they loathed every thing aristocrats of Iran represented. But she could not understand why all these people that had worked for her father for so long, had turned their back to him, why? Especially Mehdi, the gardener, she had so much affection for him and his family. She remembered how the marriage of Mehdi's fourteen years old daughter had almost destroyed her. They were the same age. They were friends. Her mother was in their class and her father married her. She was Aria's nanny. However, her father married her and had a child with her. Couldn't they see that he was a very fair man, that he did a lot more for them than just giving them a salary. They all had houses there. They did not have to pay anything for their houses. Father cared for their children. Father cared for their dead. He always went to their funerals. Anna was petrified to hear that all these people, which never any of them were fired, had done that to her father...
There were these atrocious emptiness, appalling fatigue from all these new experiences in her mind. She was disassociated from everyone and from the people who had been on the side of the assailants. She was disassociated from those who had dishonored and slandered the uncorrupted and innocent people. That was the difference between her and the revolutionaries or people like her. Even though she had never agreed with the Shah's policies, the ill-fate of her native land was a disbelief and incredulity to her.
There was no escape from the cruel isolation for her present time; however, it was not till November of 1978, when she heard the invaders had thrown her parents out of their house that this feeling of isolation turned to a savage anger. They had moved her parents to an undisclosed location. In fact, they had done the same to all her relatives, aunt, uncles, everybody; even Dr. Hamid and his family were removed from their houses. When she called the very last time, it was this vulgar, wretched, and obnoxious man who answered the phone. He mocked her for being an aristocrat and told her if he could have his hand on her, he would... Delirious Anna called Dr. Hamid's home, and then her other family members. Unfortunately she got the same type of response, one ruder and meaner than the other. If she only knew they were unharmed, if she could only talk to them. What kind of Muslim these people claimed to be to treat a sick man like her father, a worn out woman from their class like her mother the way they did. Hadn't Dr. Hamid opened a hospital to serve all people not a certain one? She called her cousin, Fro, in London. His parents were removed from their house. too. His mother was her father's sister.
The youth was all gone for her. She was worn out and old; and in her despondent state of mind, she thought about how she could save her parents. She had no true friend and her only companion was the news she heard in television or read in newspapers. It came a day that she heard the Shah left Iran. Soon after that, in February of 1979, Khomeini returned to Iran victoriously. If many Americans did not know of a country named Iran before, they all knew about it now, for the news was inundated about the events in Iran, change of Monarchy after thousands of years. She was an old thirty years, a woman without country, even though she was American Citizen, a woman without parents, husband, or even a child. She was not certain if living had any worth. Days and nights passed without her knowing anything. Cold changed to hot and she was not aware of it. Nonetheless, she got a response from CIA to a letter that she had written when her parents had disappeared. She had asked them if they could help her to locate her parents. She almost forgot that she had written a letter. In a formed letter, they said in a polite way that there was no way of helping her and they were sorry for all these agonies she was going through.
At this point she loved no one, and she assumed that she was stopped of being loved. The whole journey of her mind and spirit were only a journey, the only nest of truth. She was alone. She could not change anything in which she would want to change or correct. All these years seemed long and fruitless. A vast emptiness filled her; nevertheless, the fighter part of her, the part that had enabled her to survive the death of her brother and husband, kept her alert and she constantly thought about a way to know something about her parents' safety.
It was not till April, 1979, almost six months after the disappearance of her parents that she received a phone call. The man, on the other end, first spoke English and asked for Anna. Immediately she suspected the Persian accent.
"Are you Iranian?" She asked.
"Yes, I just came from Iran two days ago. I am calling from San Diego," He began talking in Farsi.
"How did you get out? How do you know me?"
"I smuggled; but that is not why I am calling you. I have news about your parents."
Anna's hands and forehead started to sweat.
"Are you still there?" He asked.
"Yes," She sighed. There was then this deadly silence. "Have you seen them?" She babbled.
"I haven't personally, my mother has."
"How are they? Tell me." And then she suddenly realized that with all her questions she had, she was better off to call this man, just in case the man wanted to make the conversation short because of the phone bill.
"What is your number? Let me call you. I don't want you to pay for this call."
"No, it's okay."
"Please,"
The man gave her his phone number and they hanged up. She called him back right away.
"Now tell me everything you know."
"I have green card but I could not get out. They had closed all the airports, so I had to smuggle. I was visiting my parents. My two weeks visits lasted six months. Oh, I am so glad to be out of that hell!"
"Are you parents, your family okay?"
"Yes, they are fine."
"How do you know my parents?" Anna's impatience was boiling over.
"My mother's sister used to work for your parents. I guess she is the only faithful one to them. Every one left them. She visited them many times and when she told them about my smuggling out, your mother gave her your phone number so I can call you. My mother saw your parents, too. She went with my aunt many times to see them. we all felt terrible for what had happened to them."
"Are they still in prison?"
"No, first they have kept them together which was very strange. but later we found out because of their age and because of your father being sick. Now they moved them in house in Karaj. There are some more families living with them. It is not the best of the time. Your father..."
"What about my father?" Anna cut him off.
"You must be strong. My aunt told me how strong you've always been."
Anna almost fainted. Why was he talking about her strength? Something was wrong. "Is my father okay? You know he has had heart problem."
"That is what I want to tell to you about. They imprisoned him; but only after a short time, they released him because he was not feeling good."
"Another heart attack?" She cried.
"That and I think he had a mild stroke, like a brain hemorrhage. According to my aunt, they let the doctor, my aunt say he is your relative, to see him while your mother was taking care of him."
Anna noticed he was using past tense when talking about her father. "How is he now?"
"I don't think he's very well. I am sorry to give you this news."
"Is he dead? Tell me. I can handle it." She was now talking more calmly. "I prefer him dead than being in the hands of these murderers and thieves. I don't think he can handle this disgrace."
There was silence. All she could hear was his heavy breathing. Then after a moment of dreadful quietude, he said: "Yes, he died last month."
"Which day was it?"
"I think it was 20Th of March."
"The beginning of spring." She held her cry. "How is my mother?"
"You know they have confiscated all your properties and money. She has nothing now. They pretty much have left her alone. Now she lives with her sister, your aunt."
"Thank you for all of these. I need to hang up now but I'll call you later. May be you can help me to contact my mother."
*
The brawling soul of Anna was full of violent thunder. Nothing in her face, her dynamic eyes, her pink skin, nothing matched the misery in her soul. Gone was her dismal stagnancy and vanished her mournful dignity. Wrapped in the diffident shield of her lamentable soul, the imperceptible gash of day by day scraped her from inside; and they would never be forgotten. And there were all these careless, lingering words of others that becoming like a fiery stigma in her eyes; and their looks, a glance over a shoulder, their assuming sad eyes for her tragedy which branded themselves as friendship when she could no longer stand another empathizing or sympathizing word.
The following days, she experienced an incipient impulse which she would ever know. Trenchant pain ramified from inside out to her skin. It was an unbearable pain that was not caused by a disease or a wound by but a broken heart. She lost her innate sense for beauty, survival, and nature. All those qualities that she had thought would never surpassed by any catastrophe. Her knees buckled when she wanted to rise from bed; therefore, she stayed in bed without eating, drinking, or answering the phone. She thought about the murderers who had slain her husband and now her father by taking away his dignity. She missed work for the first time for no reason given to the hospital.
She stayed in bed for two days and did not move, think, or feel after that inauspicious phone call. On the second day, while she was fighting not to fall asleep from weakness and depression, suddenly a vision struck her. In the vision she heard her mother was calling her. She had completely forgotten about the fate of her poor mother, the woman who had given birth to her. How could she be so forgetful? How could she forget herself for this oblivion? An energy flew into her body. She got up, but her knees buckled again. She crawled to the kitchen. She needed food before being able to think or find a solution to get her mother out. She had no food. She reached for the phone. Mary was the only one who could help her. She dialed the hospital number and asked for Mary. The receptionist did not recognized her voice. How could she?
Mary came in less than two hours with food and grocery; and a lot of love and advices.
To Be Continued
There were these atrocious emptiness, appalling fatigue from all these new experiences in her mind. She was disassociated from everyone and from the people who had been on the side of the assailants. She was disassociated from those who had dishonored and slandered the uncorrupted and innocent people. That was the difference between her and the revolutionaries or people like her. Even though she had never agreed with the Shah's policies, the ill-fate of her native land was a disbelief and incredulity to her.
There was no escape from the cruel isolation for her present time; however, it was not till November of 1978, when she heard the invaders had thrown her parents out of their house that this feeling of isolation turned to a savage anger. They had moved her parents to an undisclosed location. In fact, they had done the same to all her relatives, aunt, uncles, everybody; even Dr. Hamid and his family were removed from their houses. When she called the very last time, it was this vulgar, wretched, and obnoxious man who answered the phone. He mocked her for being an aristocrat and told her if he could have his hand on her, he would... Delirious Anna called Dr. Hamid's home, and then her other family members. Unfortunately she got the same type of response, one ruder and meaner than the other. If she only knew they were unharmed, if she could only talk to them. What kind of Muslim these people claimed to be to treat a sick man like her father, a worn out woman from their class like her mother the way they did. Hadn't Dr. Hamid opened a hospital to serve all people not a certain one? She called her cousin, Fro, in London. His parents were removed from their house. too. His mother was her father's sister.
The youth was all gone for her. She was worn out and old; and in her despondent state of mind, she thought about how she could save her parents. She had no true friend and her only companion was the news she heard in television or read in newspapers. It came a day that she heard the Shah left Iran. Soon after that, in February of 1979, Khomeini returned to Iran victoriously. If many Americans did not know of a country named Iran before, they all knew about it now, for the news was inundated about the events in Iran, change of Monarchy after thousands of years. She was an old thirty years, a woman without country, even though she was American Citizen, a woman without parents, husband, or even a child. She was not certain if living had any worth. Days and nights passed without her knowing anything. Cold changed to hot and she was not aware of it. Nonetheless, she got a response from CIA to a letter that she had written when her parents had disappeared. She had asked them if they could help her to locate her parents. She almost forgot that she had written a letter. In a formed letter, they said in a polite way that there was no way of helping her and they were sorry for all these agonies she was going through.
At this point she loved no one, and she assumed that she was stopped of being loved. The whole journey of her mind and spirit were only a journey, the only nest of truth. She was alone. She could not change anything in which she would want to change or correct. All these years seemed long and fruitless. A vast emptiness filled her; nevertheless, the fighter part of her, the part that had enabled her to survive the death of her brother and husband, kept her alert and she constantly thought about a way to know something about her parents' safety.
It was not till April, 1979, almost six months after the disappearance of her parents that she received a phone call. The man, on the other end, first spoke English and asked for Anna. Immediately she suspected the Persian accent.
"Are you Iranian?" She asked.
"Yes, I just came from Iran two days ago. I am calling from San Diego," He began talking in Farsi.
"How did you get out? How do you know me?"
"I smuggled; but that is not why I am calling you. I have news about your parents."
Anna's hands and forehead started to sweat.
"Are you still there?" He asked.
"Yes," She sighed. There was then this deadly silence. "Have you seen them?" She babbled.
"I haven't personally, my mother has."
"How are they? Tell me." And then she suddenly realized that with all her questions she had, she was better off to call this man, just in case the man wanted to make the conversation short because of the phone bill.
"What is your number? Let me call you. I don't want you to pay for this call."
"No, it's okay."
"Please,"
The man gave her his phone number and they hanged up. She called him back right away.
"Now tell me everything you know."
"I have green card but I could not get out. They had closed all the airports, so I had to smuggle. I was visiting my parents. My two weeks visits lasted six months. Oh, I am so glad to be out of that hell!"
"Are you parents, your family okay?"
"Yes, they are fine."
"How do you know my parents?" Anna's impatience was boiling over.
"My mother's sister used to work for your parents. I guess she is the only faithful one to them. Every one left them. She visited them many times and when she told them about my smuggling out, your mother gave her your phone number so I can call you. My mother saw your parents, too. She went with my aunt many times to see them. we all felt terrible for what had happened to them."
"Are they still in prison?"
"No, first they have kept them together which was very strange. but later we found out because of their age and because of your father being sick. Now they moved them in house in Karaj. There are some more families living with them. It is not the best of the time. Your father..."
"What about my father?" Anna cut him off.
"You must be strong. My aunt told me how strong you've always been."
Anna almost fainted. Why was he talking about her strength? Something was wrong. "Is my father okay? You know he has had heart problem."
"That is what I want to tell to you about. They imprisoned him; but only after a short time, they released him because he was not feeling good."
"Another heart attack?" She cried.
"That and I think he had a mild stroke, like a brain hemorrhage. According to my aunt, they let the doctor, my aunt say he is your relative, to see him while your mother was taking care of him."
Anna noticed he was using past tense when talking about her father. "How is he now?"
"I don't think he's very well. I am sorry to give you this news."
"Is he dead? Tell me. I can handle it." She was now talking more calmly. "I prefer him dead than being in the hands of these murderers and thieves. I don't think he can handle this disgrace."
There was silence. All she could hear was his heavy breathing. Then after a moment of dreadful quietude, he said: "Yes, he died last month."
"Which day was it?"
"I think it was 20Th of March."
"The beginning of spring." She held her cry. "How is my mother?"
"You know they have confiscated all your properties and money. She has nothing now. They pretty much have left her alone. Now she lives with her sister, your aunt."
"Thank you for all of these. I need to hang up now but I'll call you later. May be you can help me to contact my mother."
*
The brawling soul of Anna was full of violent thunder. Nothing in her face, her dynamic eyes, her pink skin, nothing matched the misery in her soul. Gone was her dismal stagnancy and vanished her mournful dignity. Wrapped in the diffident shield of her lamentable soul, the imperceptible gash of day by day scraped her from inside; and they would never be forgotten. And there were all these careless, lingering words of others that becoming like a fiery stigma in her eyes; and their looks, a glance over a shoulder, their assuming sad eyes for her tragedy which branded themselves as friendship when she could no longer stand another empathizing or sympathizing word.
The following days, she experienced an incipient impulse which she would ever know. Trenchant pain ramified from inside out to her skin. It was an unbearable pain that was not caused by a disease or a wound by but a broken heart. She lost her innate sense for beauty, survival, and nature. All those qualities that she had thought would never surpassed by any catastrophe. Her knees buckled when she wanted to rise from bed; therefore, she stayed in bed without eating, drinking, or answering the phone. She thought about the murderers who had slain her husband and now her father by taking away his dignity. She missed work for the first time for no reason given to the hospital.
She stayed in bed for two days and did not move, think, or feel after that inauspicious phone call. On the second day, while she was fighting not to fall asleep from weakness and depression, suddenly a vision struck her. In the vision she heard her mother was calling her. She had completely forgotten about the fate of her poor mother, the woman who had given birth to her. How could she be so forgetful? How could she forget herself for this oblivion? An energy flew into her body. She got up, but her knees buckled again. She crawled to the kitchen. She needed food before being able to think or find a solution to get her mother out. She had no food. She reached for the phone. Mary was the only one who could help her. She dialed the hospital number and asked for Mary. The receptionist did not recognized her voice. How could she?
Mary came in less than two hours with food and grocery; and a lot of love and advices.
To Be Continued
Friday, July 16, 2010
Thirty Two, Ruination
Disappointment, what an unearthly word!
It brings not only bitterness, but also encouragement.
The ruination ruined for awhile.
But she is healed now to take on power.
She talked when she was solid as the earth.
She acted when the thunders ruined all.
*
The happy, bitter, infuriated, and wavering people, a candle that flickered for a moment, the bloody ruination of everything, the artificial, irrational, and continuous revolution and revelation, the collapse of monarchy, the exasperated, abject, adverse, and unwholesome patriotism; and the prolonged sadness combined with the endeavor of the revolutionists who were anti the Shah, anti Americans; and their words, their bleeding along with an incapability to do decisive and crucial things were all there and new for Anna; but not the unwavering and inevitable rhythm that was imperative.
Everything was new for Anna. She had never known revolution, war, killing one another for power; and she was certain that all were new for the majority of Persian people in Iran or abroad. Nevertheless, this game of power, perhaps was joyous for many who were to gain some kind of economical or political advantage. She, being back in Dallas, heard the news in American television and read it in American newspapers. To her, the whole cataclysm was not only a destruction of everything and brought hate, but they were also shame and embarrassment- a disgrace for the unjustness and mindlessness of the Shah, and an abashment for the unfounded, groundless newcomers; and the way they were brainwashing people especially the youths of the country even against their own parents and families.
Except death, nothing is inevitable. The Revolution was not avoidable. Many things like disproportion, prejudice, starvation, insolvency, manipulation, and unemployment are solved in different ways in various countries in the century we live. In the twentieth century that Anna was born, these miseries were about to unravel in a cruel way, a ruination.
For her, at this point of her life, there were no thoughts or feelings, good or bad. She knew that her thoughts and feeling would always be just thoughts and feelings; and if she felt good, it meant the absence of her hateful thoughts, and she felt depressed, it meant the deficiency of any good deed; however, none of them really existed. They were all like a myth, a changeable thought or feeling. They were all like games which without them her life would be dull and empty. All the symbols that came with her moods, like laughter, tear, bliss, torment, and sadness were like a dream that was essential to her life. However, at this point of her life, being far from the events and in a safe haven, all she had left from that Aristotelian terror and bliss was only terror. She was terrorized for the safety of her parents and for the future of her innate land, a land that had faced many upheavals during of three thousand years of written history and a lot more of unwritten one.
Her father's words flew like a river in her mind and took her along. "If you love us, you'll go back." She remembered her last minutes in Iran, at the airport, and in the arms of her parents. Was that the very last she would see her native land? Shahzdeh, Fatie, and Reza the driver, and even Dr. Hamid, her cousin were there to say good-bye to her. Oh, how difficult it was to say good-bye! Isn't it always easier to say hello? Oh, how horrifying it was to leave those she loved! would she be able to see them again? She had thought then. Would she ever see Iran again? She had felt then. Her feelings in those final moments at Mehrabad Airport had been indescribable; as though she was waiting an execution. Only when the microphone announced the time of the boarding, had she realized that not only she had to go, but she was predestined to go. That was her destiny as it was her parents'. Everything in the last fourteen years had happened for a reason. A man like her father had been convinced against his will to send his daughter to America at such a young age! She remembered the very first time that she wanted to go and her father did not. How strange it was the turns and twists of life, her life, their lives! How time and series of events had changed everything even the feeling of people, or the principals that a man like her father lived by.
She remembered talking to Dr. Hamid about her father's health and if she could call Hamid from America concerning her parents' well being. Then, Hamid had fierce, dynamic eyes. He looked at her and Anna suspected a hatred in his eyes. She mistook that disgust with annoyance he might have for her request; but when he spoke, had she realized that his loathing was for the revolution not her. He despised and abominated every one of those revolutionaries with a deep, personal anger.
One thing that gave her a little hope was her parents' upcoming interviews for their green cards. However, when the time approached, they told her that they could not keep their appointment and she needed to reschedule it. Their reason, of course, was not good enough for her. She wanted to get them out of country before the worst would happen. "We're not ready yet." Those words of her father echoed in her ears for several days; and finally she called Dr. Hamid. His son answered the phone; and he was the one that told her that both her parents were under house arrest. They could not even leave Tehran for another city in Iran. Dr. Hamid's son also told her that the revolutionaries had confiscated many of theirs and her parents' properties.
How foolish and naive she had been! of course, the target of these narrow-minded people would be wealthy and well-known people like her father and Dr. Hamid. To them, these kind of people had drained them for centuries and now it was their turn. These people were not fighting for Islam. Matter factly, Anna called them socialists who were hiding behind religion. Dr. Hamid' son's words kept echoing in her ears:
"You know all your father's employees, including Mehdi are joined the revolutionaries. They all turned their back to us after all these years of employing them, feeding them, marry their children, educate their children, and taking care of them."
She though even Mehdi, the gardener, whom she played with his children! She knew it would be impossible for her father to endure this disgrace- a man in his position, now being under house arrest with no money, and waiting for the charity of the thieves! How could she get them out? She did not care if they had lost everything. All she cared for was their safety. If she could only get them out, she would support them, she would take care of them.
To Be Continued
It brings not only bitterness, but also encouragement.
The ruination ruined for awhile.
But she is healed now to take on power.
She talked when she was solid as the earth.
She acted when the thunders ruined all.
*
The happy, bitter, infuriated, and wavering people, a candle that flickered for a moment, the bloody ruination of everything, the artificial, irrational, and continuous revolution and revelation, the collapse of monarchy, the exasperated, abject, adverse, and unwholesome patriotism; and the prolonged sadness combined with the endeavor of the revolutionists who were anti the Shah, anti Americans; and their words, their bleeding along with an incapability to do decisive and crucial things were all there and new for Anna; but not the unwavering and inevitable rhythm that was imperative.
Everything was new for Anna. She had never known revolution, war, killing one another for power; and she was certain that all were new for the majority of Persian people in Iran or abroad. Nevertheless, this game of power, perhaps was joyous for many who were to gain some kind of economical or political advantage. She, being back in Dallas, heard the news in American television and read it in American newspapers. To her, the whole cataclysm was not only a destruction of everything and brought hate, but they were also shame and embarrassment- a disgrace for the unjustness and mindlessness of the Shah, and an abashment for the unfounded, groundless newcomers; and the way they were brainwashing people especially the youths of the country even against their own parents and families.
Except death, nothing is inevitable. The Revolution was not avoidable. Many things like disproportion, prejudice, starvation, insolvency, manipulation, and unemployment are solved in different ways in various countries in the century we live. In the twentieth century that Anna was born, these miseries were about to unravel in a cruel way, a ruination.
For her, at this point of her life, there were no thoughts or feelings, good or bad. She knew that her thoughts and feeling would always be just thoughts and feelings; and if she felt good, it meant the absence of her hateful thoughts, and she felt depressed, it meant the deficiency of any good deed; however, none of them really existed. They were all like a myth, a changeable thought or feeling. They were all like games which without them her life would be dull and empty. All the symbols that came with her moods, like laughter, tear, bliss, torment, and sadness were like a dream that was essential to her life. However, at this point of her life, being far from the events and in a safe haven, all she had left from that Aristotelian terror and bliss was only terror. She was terrorized for the safety of her parents and for the future of her innate land, a land that had faced many upheavals during of three thousand years of written history and a lot more of unwritten one.
Her father's words flew like a river in her mind and took her along. "If you love us, you'll go back." She remembered her last minutes in Iran, at the airport, and in the arms of her parents. Was that the very last she would see her native land? Shahzdeh, Fatie, and Reza the driver, and even Dr. Hamid, her cousin were there to say good-bye to her. Oh, how difficult it was to say good-bye! Isn't it always easier to say hello? Oh, how horrifying it was to leave those she loved! would she be able to see them again? She had thought then. Would she ever see Iran again? She had felt then. Her feelings in those final moments at Mehrabad Airport had been indescribable; as though she was waiting an execution. Only when the microphone announced the time of the boarding, had she realized that not only she had to go, but she was predestined to go. That was her destiny as it was her parents'. Everything in the last fourteen years had happened for a reason. A man like her father had been convinced against his will to send his daughter to America at such a young age! She remembered the very first time that she wanted to go and her father did not. How strange it was the turns and twists of life, her life, their lives! How time and series of events had changed everything even the feeling of people, or the principals that a man like her father lived by.
She remembered talking to Dr. Hamid about her father's health and if she could call Hamid from America concerning her parents' well being. Then, Hamid had fierce, dynamic eyes. He looked at her and Anna suspected a hatred in his eyes. She mistook that disgust with annoyance he might have for her request; but when he spoke, had she realized that his loathing was for the revolution not her. He despised and abominated every one of those revolutionaries with a deep, personal anger.
One thing that gave her a little hope was her parents' upcoming interviews for their green cards. However, when the time approached, they told her that they could not keep their appointment and she needed to reschedule it. Their reason, of course, was not good enough for her. She wanted to get them out of country before the worst would happen. "We're not ready yet." Those words of her father echoed in her ears for several days; and finally she called Dr. Hamid. His son answered the phone; and he was the one that told her that both her parents were under house arrest. They could not even leave Tehran for another city in Iran. Dr. Hamid's son also told her that the revolutionaries had confiscated many of theirs and her parents' properties.
How foolish and naive she had been! of course, the target of these narrow-minded people would be wealthy and well-known people like her father and Dr. Hamid. To them, these kind of people had drained them for centuries and now it was their turn. These people were not fighting for Islam. Matter factly, Anna called them socialists who were hiding behind religion. Dr. Hamid' son's words kept echoing in her ears:
"You know all your father's employees, including Mehdi are joined the revolutionaries. They all turned their back to us after all these years of employing them, feeding them, marry their children, educate their children, and taking care of them."
She though even Mehdi, the gardener, whom she played with his children! She knew it would be impossible for her father to endure this disgrace- a man in his position, now being under house arrest with no money, and waiting for the charity of the thieves! How could she get them out? She did not care if they had lost everything. All she cared for was their safety. If she could only get them out, she would support them, she would take care of them.
To Be Continued
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