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
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