Here I am at the edge of fading completely into the universe of uncertainly. As I lose my brilliance and sense of being, I languish for a double life I have had with Hana without ever being totally whole. Even though I was sometimes a toy, other times a comforter, occasionally a problem solver, seldom a game, and mostly her artistic sense, the one who wrote, and bled poetry for Hana. As time passed, her dynamic vitality, something she was not aware that she had it, made me stronger and stronger. When I became strenuous, she lost wholeness, as though by giving power to me she had nothing left for herself. However, I stood by her, helped her, and practically raised her sons.
She will write many other poetry and novels, since I can see the future; as I can see her in the airplane now, flying to one of the most beautiful countries in the word, sitting side by side to a man who used to be her fiance, and both are catching up on the stories of an almost two years separations. But somehow I can not see what their future plan would be. That part, she has put a ban on and I can not predict what they will do. Will it be marriage or just friendship? I can not say!
When I look at myself and then her, all I see is our withered faces and dull eyes, as though life is gone from our soul and spirits. Our hair have turned mostly gray. How old are we? I think it is almost forty seven now, and look at us. I see strands of gray hair among the teeth of her comb every time she combs her hair. She has cut her hair short, very short for the first time. It really hurt when she did it; but I guess that is another form of punishment because she has always blamed herself for everything. It burned me out when she broke with Mario. He is a good man and I thought by having him I might get released from her body cage and fly out to where I belong without being worried for her. But look at her now, look at the glow in her eyes, sitting next to Mario in the airplane and sipping her wine. Look at how the life and color have returned to her face as though she and the woman of a only few hours ago are two different people. I wonder how Mario manages to be in the same plain and going to Italy exactly the same time as her. This can not be a coincidence. I bet Valery had something to do with it. I recall that she was asking Hana many questions about her flight, and then she drove her to the airport. When Hana asked her to stay with her till her flight time, she came with an excuse that she could not stay. Now I know what has happened. What a friend? They met because of Valery, and Now it is Valery that is trying to get them back together. As I see the vivid splendor in her eyes and the blossoming blush on her cheek now, it reminds me more and more that I have to leave her soon anyway. But this everlasting leaving of mine is not because of her finding another other- half, but it is because she she enough stamina of her own. "What am I for anymore? Nothing!" Can you imagine being faithful to her all our lives? Now she does not even recognize me. However, I have begged her to give me a little more time to finish what I started. First she agreed; but she changed her mind right away and said:
"I want to finish it of my own choosing. No more influence from you." By the way I have just found a poem she wrote when she was only eighteen years old. Can you believe how old she felt at the young age?
"I was in youth's dynasty.
Those periods are gone free.
In bitter, grievous desires I put above,
Or sweet, melodious, and promising love,
* My youth, all of it, has vanished.
I came across the old age and despair;
Wearing the gray color on my hair.
I think again of bitter love and fame;
But none of us knows each other's name.
* My youth, all of it, has vanished."
I guess she wrote this one after Saeid's suicide. I remember what she went through while was not able to talk to anyone or show her grief. When someone goes through what she has, all those experiences make that person like an adamant piece of stone. I think things were not that bad on many occasion, but this last one, the death of her little boy is the worst for any mother especially a mom like Hana.
We will have a break from what will happen in Italy, and go back to when her book was published. What an immediate success. Among all the congratulatory cards she receives for her book, one of them is from Mario. She recognizes his hand writing. After three days stubbornly adamant not to open the envelope, she finally opens it. But first smells it, maybe she can savor the pleasant aroma of his cigar. She conjures up another time, to be exact twenty nine years ago, when she read Saeid's letter in Behroz's room. An inconsolable pain grabs her heart. She wonders if he did not commit suicide, and they got married, what would be different in her life! Would she come to America, or become a writer? Would she be a happy person, or happiness is something from within not from outside! she is not sure. As she stares at Mario's card for a while, she finally finds the courage to read it. Searching for her glasses, she knocks down the ashtray full of ashes and cigarette butts on the floor. "I can clean it later." And she reads:
"My dearest Hana, am I allowed to tell you my deepest joy for the success of your book? I believed in you when you doubted yourself. I am so honored that at one point I was your friend or may be more... You don't have to answer me if you don't want to. But remember in my heart you're still my precious Hana. Love, Mario."
She never answers.
Let's take another break from Italy. When she returns home from hospital after trying to kill herself by starvation, I find this other poem about her doctor, her God:
"I have a check up for I am sick.
I go to God to cure me very quick.
My temperature is very high.
God says anxiety may make me die!
He says loneliness changes mood;
It stops the flow of blood from my soul's food.
My eye sight, my hearing, my bones all seem to be gone.
Since I can't hear God's words, I must be done.
A glass of thankfulness, in the morning, I drink.
He writes to take a spoonful of relaxation with his ink.
At bed time, I take a pill of praise.
Hoping God throws me some sun rays.
After each storm, I want him to send me breeze.
After each tear, I want him to give me ease.
'whatever I am', in conclusion, I believe
Is mistaken by 'whatever I must achieve.'"
*
In the bumpy road of Hana's life, when she finally gains her appealing drawing power back and becomes mature, there is no place for me anymore; nevertheless, I have to finish her story. That desire enables me to just hang on to end what I have started. Now the story, her story has ended and published, but has it? It seems to me it is just beginning. I still can see her in the airplane sitting next to Mario. Soon she will join her family. Soon she will have a grandson. But from this point, it is her job to write or not to write. I think she will. I am dying, fading, as it happened to many of our loved ones in this story. We have not planed it this way. They have just happened that way. In every death in her family, when the transient depression and nihilism occupied her entity, it was me who has brought her back and made her more affective, for the memory of the dead lives in living.
Now, at this point, when she is in the plane next to Mario, one man, who truly has never stopped loving her, I am needed no more. She is mature. She can handle life from now on, even if more catastrophes happen. I have no doubt about it. I am tired anyway. As we began our odyssey of our minds and double lives as a joke, escape, or loneliness, I helped her to go through what you have witnessed.
I am her other- half, double, Lila, remember.
******************************* THE END *******************************
After a few days of break, You will read another novel of mine Named "SECRETS".
I hope you stay with me for more of my literary works.
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