With night growing colder, the everlasting banishment of a journey without return is ruthlessly accentuated in Hana's vision. She stubbornly refuses to have fun or to feel good. I catch her in a dark fall day alone in her apartment. Her disgusting position on the chair with her hands under her chin makes me sick. How can I teach her, change her, and make her understand that that we have only one life to live? In the lonely room, she sees my shadow and without moving, rudely says:
"What do you want? Leave me alone?"
I get closer to her and pat her on shoulder which makes her to tremble like a shaking tree.
"Stop grieving!"
"Why?" She demands.
""Because you live only once; and besides you're making me depressed, too."
She rises from her chair and looks at me through her dispirited eyes, infuriated:
"You don't have to live with me."
"How can I not? We're connected! You're making me dispirited and I don't like it. I just want to guide you. If you listen to me, we both have a better life."
She, irritated, begins laughing hysterically.
"I don't need your meaningful guidance."
"But you have choices. If you trust me, I'll give you a spiritual solace that can erase all those permanent bruises from your stubborn mind. Just give me a chance."
"What do you want me to do?" Hana's voice gradually changes to stammering.
"I am writing your story. I want you to help me to finish it with a happy ending."
Hana, perplexed, looks at her.
"You're not a person. How can you write my story? I created you when I needed a friend. Now you want to take over my life. It is funny." She finishes breathlessly.
I think of what she says. That is right. She gave life to me just for having someone secretive to talk to; but somehow I have picked the strength of her strong will which then has died in her.
"I know all these, Hana. I know I am your imaginary friend, or as you often say, your other- half or other-self, or what ever your mood is at the time. But this is not the way of living. I want to give you what no one has ever been able to offer you- peace; and I am writing your story whether you like it or not..."
When I hear the footstep of Hana's son, I stop my lecture to fade away into the air and leave the conversation unfinished until the next time when I visit my other- self.
Tehran-
In the intensely intuited, but to some magnitude halting, Gol, helpless and disheartened of unsatisfied poison of life that had turned inward, walked like a ghost in the cheerless house. The tragedy of losing her husband and all the responsibilities that followed, deranged her to a shadow. With hesitation, she had to make decisions, and with regret, she ought to follow the rules. Wondering in fright, she did not know how she had gotten to that darkness of loneliness. Not knowing what love had really meant, she missed Davoud, her husband. In the obscurity of her house, the solitary widow became more and more like a specter than human; and she let that anxiety to take over her without considering her children. Gol's despondent behavior made Hana a mother to her sisters and brothers and a shoulder to her mom overnight.
As fragile as Hana had been up to death of her father, she suddenly found a strength beyond imagination to put all torn pieces back together. She cleaned up a room on the first floor for her mom to sew; and at the meantime, she passed hand outs to friends, neighbors, and her colleagues for Gol's excellent ability to sew. She calculated by doing that not only she would help mom to snap out of depression, but also she would improve the finance of the family. A little money that mom and children were paid from dad's survival benefit, the money she was making as a teacher, and the money mom was going to make from sewing would be barely enough for living and paying the mortgage. After computing the finance of the family in her mind and then on the paper, she refused uncle Nabi's suggestion to sale the house and move to an apartment. Nabi, who could not believe Hana's growth in such a short time, amazingly looked at the piece of paper with all the figures Hana had written on it. He studied it for a while in silence and finally said:
"What about emergencies, if someone gets sick?"
Hana impatiently interrupted him: "I am thinking to have Reza and Asad leave here. They're old enough to take care of themselves. When that happens, we'll be in better shape."
"How are you going to do that?" Uncle Nabi sounded a little sarcastic.
"Very simple; I just tell them to leave."
"Good luck with that! You know your dad's family had used him and all of you for years. I doubt that now that he is gone, you can stop it."
"You watch me, uncle Nabi. I am not dad."
Uncle Nabi looked at her, perplexed, while a mysterious smile brightened his stern face. He always liked people who were motivated and self reliance.
"You know if you need help, you can come to me any time."
"I know it; and thank you for that. But I don't think that would be necessary. I keep that in mind though." She talked in a way that gave uncle Nabi the feeling that she was his equal. But he never said that to her.
To every one's extreme surprise, Hana asked Reza and Asad to leave. Their anger and intimidation and Gol's soft talking did not stop Hana. Reza, two years older than her, furiously said:
"I show you. Now you want to boss everyone around. I show you."
Hana, very calm, smiled and said:
"Believe me, you'll thank me for this one day."
So the two uncle, dad's brothers, left. Now she had two less mouth to feed. She ignored her mom's begging to let them stay.
"No, mom. I am younger than them and working. They can work and go to school, too; even though I don't think they're interested in school. Besides how about their other sisters and brothers? They can help, too. Situation has changed, mom."
That was the end of discussion; and Gol finally gave in to her daughter, whom in a short time had grown so much that even she depended on her.
Between working full time, going to college part time, and taking care of everything and everyone at home, soon Hana replaced dad. Her brothers and sisters came to her for any problems they had; and mom waited for her every evening, as she had done for her husband. Each evening when Gol heard the key turning in the hole, she would be all excited like a little girl whose mother was coming home.
But even then, Hana's life was divided to what she called it inside and outside world. Her outside world meant a general term- taking care of others and working and school; and her inside world was in her closet- like room still imagining, although she did not have much time to do that. Every night after she was finished with that day's struggle, she found peace and comfort in her room. A privet time that she treasured and did not allow anyone to take it from her. There, she mostly thought about dad and Saeid. She let her tears flow for both of them, whom she loved so much; and never told them that. As her family depended on her after dad's death, she had never had the chance to cry like others. There had not been a shoulder for her to lean, while her shoulders had become like a strong wall for others, specially mom.
There, in her closet- like room with red curtains over fake windows, she let her frenzy and grief roam around. Instead of writing letters to her old time, imaginary friend, Mesa, Hana created a live person, which she called her other- half or self, and named her Lila. At the beginning in order to bring her other-self to life, she had to gaze in the mirror for a long time and gradually the spirit of her other- half became to life; nevertheless, after practicing, she found the power to do that without any effort. In long conversation she had with Lila, she gave her all her wisdom, strength, and many other things she wanted to be. The more she gave her other- self, the weaker she became herself. It was like nursing a baby without eating any food. So there, in that small room, she created a perfect person, a shoulder, a shadow of herself; and a perfect other- self that she always wished to be.
Dallas-
To Be Continued
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