Another fourth of July reinforces how terribly Hana misses her father. She tries to calculate her father's age if he was alive. She sighs desperately, "Sixty". In these two entirely different cultures that she lives in one and relives the other, the perspective of age, like many other things, is so different that she can not understand why people who are created equally, must think and act so unlikely. While sixty is old for an Iranian man and even more so for an Iranian woman, in America Hana has not met a sixty years old person who thinks he is old.
She misses visiting her father's grave, as she had done every fourth of July, his birthday, when she lived in Iran. While she longs the feel of touching the earth on his grave, she puts his picture on the table to give her that sensible fervor. Within years, she had talked a lot about her dad to her sons; and they, who have never seen their grandfather, know him so well as though they had the pleasure of having him around.
Unlike her father, Hamid's obscene character has left no place for anyone to miss him including his sons. A sense of relaxation and tranquility have filled Hana and her sons in the past few days. Hamid was gone when Hana came home from work three days ago. Knowing his habit, Hana did not show any concern at first; however, when two days passed, she became worried. When she discussed the matter with her sons, they laughed at her.
"Mom, how many times he is done this? Remember he went to Mexico last year without telling us! Probably he is drunk with a prostitute or traveling with your credit cards." Farhad, annoyed, says.
How correct he was because that evening Hamid called from Montreal, Canada. Of course, this is not the first time he had taken off without telling his family. In last seven years, living in Dallas, Hamid gone to Mexico, New Orleans, New York, and even one time to Europe. In each occasion, Hana's debt on her credit cards maximized to an unmanageable level. Now, she is not sure how she can survive the financial abyss.
Hamid's tone of voice on the phone tells enough that how drunk he is. While he is bragging about beautiful places and good times, Hana's anger is about to suffocate her. Remembering their plan, she feels this is the best time. She can not possibly tell him on his face what her sons and she have decided.
"Hamid, stop talking for a minute. I must tell you something!"
Hana's unusual tone trembles Hamid; nevertheless, he says:
"I don't have time now. I must go. I don't have enough change for the phone."
"Stop the nonsense. You're calling collect. We can talk as long as I want."
"What is it that you have to tell me now. I'll be back in couple of days and ..."
"No, you won't be back, not to this house, my home. We don't want you. Stay where you are, go where you want, but not here, not ever..." She does not believe herself. Her sons, who are listening to the conversation since the phone is on the speaker, look at her astoundingly and their amiable smile encourages her.
"What do you mean? What is wrong with you? What..."
"Nothing is wrong with me. We want you out of our lives, do you understand? We want to divorce you!"
"Are you crazy? Have you lost your mind? You're nothing without me. You can't survive in America without me! You're sabotaging my children's mind. You..." Hamid's using reverse psychology does not frighten Hana for the first time.
"Whether or not I survive without you is my business; and besides I think you're the one that can't survive without us. You don't have the guts to work and support yourself. You're the one is dead without me, us; and I'm not sabotaging my sons' mind. Actually it is them that finally made me to understand that we're living a sick life with you." She is finally proud of herself to tell him things that she has never been able to say.
"This is insane. I'm not going to let you keep the children." He sounds desperate.
Hana bursts into a hysterical laughter:
"They're not children anymore; and besides here is not Iran. Law here protects women. A twenty one and seventeen years old can decide for themselves. You can't do anything. We don't want you back. If you pull any of your violent tricks, we'll call the police."
Suddenly Hamid realizes how serious this tiny woman is, who has supported and put up with him all these years. He shudders of an unexpected exasperation and remembers his old tricks, like the one that made Hana to marry him.
"Oh, honey, I know you're angry because I didn't tell you about my trip. I'm sorry; I'll make it up to you when I come back. My car has a little problem. As soon as it's fixed, I'll be back. I promise." It is so strange how he can change his tone of voice to serve him.
"Don't pull these dirty tricks on me; and that is not your car. It's mine because I pay for it not you; and I don't want you back."
"Oh, Hana, listen, I love you. You know I love you. I love the kids. Don't do this. I never..."
Hana interrupts him before his words, as they had done before, softens and weakens her:
"The conversation is over. You know I pay the telephone bill, not you; and by the way, I don't love you." She hangs up the phone.
While Farhad and Sam celebrating the future outcome of their parents' conversation, they heard on the speaker phone, Hana discerns Hamid's loathsome bluff for all the years they have been together. She desperately understands that her immeasurable fear for the last twenty two years from his psychic husband has been for no reason. She could have freed herself from this sick relation many years earlier.
Tehran-
To Be Continued
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