UNFULFILLED- Six- ~~~The Complete Mate

Mansour was in total awe. First he thought he had heard all her words wrong; but when she repeated them for the second time and even added more to her speech, he knew that nothing she was saying was normal, perhaps they were sane in her mind, but not in his. It was as though there was something in being married that she could not tolerate and should not face. When she had started talking, it appeared to him that the Neda he knew was gone and this venomous woman with crying face, still wearing her wedding gown, was not the Neda he knew. Her true, naked soul tainted him. Terror and weakness came over him in abundance.

"You've crushed me. You're so cruel!" That is all he could say.

"I'm crushed, too. I'm sorry."

Mansour stood up, hesitated for a moment, hoping for a kinder word from her or even she would admit that she was joking, and when he did not hear anything, he finally walked way from her and towards the building. Once more he turned around and took a glimpse of her. The strings of lights which were hanged over and amongst trees for the wedding, gave him enough light to see her pale and trembling lips. He decided to stop and say another word to her, perhaps a comforting one, but the lights went off suddenly. Everywhere in the garden went dark; and he changed his mind. He went into the building. He did not know what else he could say to a woman who is not in love with him and was so hateful. He decided to leave without her.

Neda sat there on the bench hugging her knees. It was dark. The night air was still and warm. Her despair slowly replaced by shame and fluster. However, as these emotions occupied her soul, she felt pride, too. She reflected on her short conversation with Mansour. He did not fight for her or with her. "What a blank and gloomy soul he must have." She thought to her self. her deep sighs came one after the other. They almost left no room for her normal breathing.

None of these which had only lasted less than fifteen minutes could not be hidden from Maryam, who was resting in Neda's room with the light off. No one knew that she was there. She had watched their interaction from window while sitting on Neda's bed. She knew something was terribly wrong. As soon as she saw Mansour walked out of the garden and into the building, Maryam ran out of Neda's room and down the stairs. On the first floor hallway, she came face to face with Mansour. He looked flustered with anger and fury. He did not look anything like a groom that had married only a few hours ago. Mansour knew of the two cousins' closeness; therefore, he decided to avoid talking to Maryam. But she blocked him, almost face to face with him. When he had no choice but to stop, she said:

"Oh, please don't do anything out of haste and anger. I saw you two from Neda's room. Let me talk to her."

Mansour had no idea how Maryam knew about their problems and disagreements, only watching from window in the dark! But he was interested to find out. In fact, he felt Maryam's friendship with Neda was one of the reason Neda behaved the way she did. He had planned when they would settle down in their new house and married life, to forbid Neda of having communication with Maryam, her cousin. Now this woman that rumour had it that her fiance had not showed up on their wedding day, wanted to help him. He was very much interested to know the reason for that big controversy and also was very determined somehow to discover it since no one ever talked about it. But for now, he had a bigger problem in hand. He married a young girl only a few hour ago and they already had problems. This woman, Maryam, could help him. He shook his head and took a step backward so as not to be face to face with Maryam and said:

"Go right ahead. She won't listen to anybody. I should have known!"

To Be Continued

UNFULFILLED- Six- The Complete Mate

"What do you mean saying you don't go to our house?" Mansour tried to change his authoritative voice as best as he could.

"That is our place now, yours and mine!"

Neda was startled by his timid talk. She did not know how to respond, how to think. All she knew and felt at that moment was that she did not want to be married. She had thought before that by marrying, a fuller life would open before her. Now her soul only possessed disgust, aversion, and disappointment.

What would she say? Who could she talk to? Where could she run away to, and from what? All these inclinations had formerly appeared to her but in a meaningless way. In comparison, what she experienced now was a complete darkness that obscured her being, yet they seemed trivial. Sitting in the garden, under the dark and dull sky, yet full of stars and the moon light, a point, a place that her future had established, and her present was now ultimately unclear and baffled.

Mansour put his hand under her chin and raised her face. What he saw was so unnatural to him that he was almost shocked. The beautiful, young face of his new wife and bride was all blackened by crying. Eye shadow, eye liner, rouge, and every other paint that the Wig Woman had used on her face, were smeared together. Her face looked like a painting of a mad painter. But that was besides the point for him. What he saw was a face full of suffering and pain.

"Honey, what is it? Are you frightened?" He said it in a very genuine tone.

This was the only right thing she had heard all day and night. Yes, she was frightened, yes, she was not confident. She looked at him through the mist of her eyes and said with a trembling voice:

"Very much!"

"So am I, very much! I guess it's normal! It'll be okay!"

So, he was afraid, too. Neda always thought that men had no fear especially of things like this. But there was a difference between his fear and hers. He was ready to go through it; she wanted to run away from it. But on the second thought, was she petrified or regretful and disappointed? She knew that at that moment she was in a tremendous agony. She almost had anxiety attack; nevertheless, she also had apprehension for Mansour, even a greater one. Nobody had forced her to marry him; even though she later would find out that both of them were set up by her father. She was as responsible for this union as he was; but if only his never- ending shrill tone of voice would stop... She could not stand his familiar pitch of voice, his black mustache, once seemed so charming to her, his black full hair which he combed it all up, his dark, influential eyes, and his trim body. Yes, she could not stand this handsome man, as everybody said so, which now was her husband. Now she finally grasped that it was all her fault. She was just not in love with him. He was too mature; she was still a child.

"I want to end this!" she murmured in a way that even herself could not hear it; but she raised her voice enough at the last two words for him to hear it; but not the remaining people in the garden who were cleaning up and constantly interrupting them. She said it again just in case he had not heard it the first time.

"I want to end this. It is a disaster, and affliction. It is bad news for you and a blight for me, for both of us. I don't know how! I can't know how to end it! I can't recognize this. It is not me. I can't see me like this. It's dreadful, so unnatural!"

To Be Continued

UNFULFILLED- Five<><>The Wedding

They had decorated the garden for reception. Chairs and tables were rented. All tables had white table clothe, a vase of flower on them, and could sit six people. It kind of reminded Neda of a fancy restaurant. However the food, since there were so many different type of them, were served in a buffet style for the guests. Father had hired an orchestra to play Persian music, the type that were proper for dancing. He had thrown the biggest wedding for his daughter as far as the guests concerned.

Neda remembered that first she had danced with her father; then Sohrab, her brother came and took her away from her father and danced with her. Neda smelled alcohol in her brother's breath; but she was enjoying so much to be close to her brother that she did not bother to ask him. She guessed that they were serving alcohol somewhere for men. Women were not supposed to drink. While her head was on her brother shoulder and he was carrying her to the sky, she felt a tap on her shoulder. It was Mansour. "It is my turn!" For some odd reason she did not want to dance with her new husband, anybody but him. However to respond to the guest's clapping and hurry, she began dancing with Mansour. People throwing "Noghl" on her head. "More, more". Some people were dancing by themselves; some in a group, It was apparent that everybody had a good time. She slowly left the dance scene. Her high hill was killing her. Her heel caught the bottom of her dress and made big hole in the back of her heavy gown. She sat on the bench under the cherry tree. She was looking around. She could not believe that her aunt Zari was dancing. Her father and Sima dancing in a corner to a disco type music, but their dance was a close romantic one. She learned so much about her family by the way they were dancing that she could not have learned it by talking to them. Her mother was running the show; to make sure there were enough chicken or kabob, or ghormeh sabsi on the food table. She could not see Maryam. "Where is she?" Sohrab came and asked her to dance. "No, I'm tired." Mansour never again asked her for dance. But it was obvious he had a good time. He was right in the middle and dancing the night away.

Night had already fallen; but they had so many strings of lights amongst the tree branches and around the building that the garden looked like day, except when Neda looked at sky. It was becoming too black, too dull. She was very tired. She thought about everything that happened that day, from early morning to now. She wished she could sneak into the building, go to her room and shower and change. She wanted to wash out the trace of the Wig woman from herself. She looked again at the black sky. "Too dark!" Even those beads of shinning stars that had always inspired her to write, now were ashen and colorless. Why was it that this afternoon people had not left her alone for a minute to breathe; and now nobody even noticed that this whole thing was because of her and nobody paid attention to her.

Then the guests began leaving. If it was not for their children strewn here and there, nagging, complaining, sleeping, perhaps they did not want to leave. They did not know when would be the next time that they could have such a good time. She saw, a husband and wife fighting. She heard the wife: "All night you're dancing with different women!" She was tired of standing, now Mansour next to her, shaking hands and hugging and kissing people good byes. "We really had a good time!" All those phony congratulations, all those fake talking, words that had no true meanings, gestures that were artificial!

She felt like she was in another planet, far from all these people, in some unattainable place. She had to come back to earth painstakingly every minute so her unreachable attitude would not offend people who were saying goodbyes to her, so she appeared not courteous.

Suddenly she recalled another shocking reality about all these chaos. As it was customary, a woman relative, in her case Aunt Zari, Maryam's mom, was supposed to go with them to their new apartment and sleep in there, somewhere; and wait for Mansour to bring out the white handkerchief, embroidered, ironed, which had Neda's virginity blood on it. She remembered her argument with her mother over this issue. At the end, her mother's teary eyes had made her to give in. Oh, all these terrible things that women had to go through. She wished she was never born or at least she was born in a different, civilized country, or perhaps she was born a boy.

Suddenly something flashed din her mind. "I talk to Mansour before leaving. But he was gone. There were a lot less people now in the garden. He was no where to be found. She looked everywhere. She went upstairs to go to her room and change clothes. She heard men voices were coming from her father's study. Without knocking, she opened the door and went in. Her father, Sohrab, Mansour, her uncles, and a few close friends were all there. They were all drinking vodka. She had never known that her father or those other men drank! All were startled by her entering the room. Father, shocked, was the one who spoke:

"It is you, honey! What do you want?"

She could not speak. She could not move. The thought of having a drunk man in bed with her ruined completely the little joy she had of being married. Every one looked at her. They all saw the awe on her face. Finally Mansour walked to her and asked her in a very gentle fashion, yet drunk:

"Do you need to talk to me?"

"Yes!" She sighed.

They left the room and went downstairs, and then straight to the garden. She sat on the bench. Mansour put his arm around her and his other hand on her tight. He began rubbing her legs. She removed his hand angrily.

"Listen, you're my wife now!"

"I don't care. I didn't know you drink!"

"There is nothing wrong with occasional drinking. Your father and your brother were drinking, too."

"I don't care if they were drinking. I don't have to sleep with them. You've never told me."

"I don't have to tell you everything. Men drink sometimes. Your father invited us to his room." He removed his arm that was on her shoulder. Then faced her.

"What did you want? You were looking for me!"

Neda could not remember why she was looking for him. She had to think hard. But what came to her mind was Mansour's change of attitude. He was not the same as yesterday or even that afternoon, before they officially became husband and wife. She thought to herself:

"Now I see the real him. He was acting all these times!"

"I don't want to go with you tonight to the apartment." She managed to say. Not only that she had forgotten that her aunt Zari coming with them was the reason she had looked for him, but at this point, she just did not want to be married at all. Dreams of her being a famous poet one day seemed dashed in just the last few hours. She imagined herself like her mother or her aunt. She saw herself cooking, taking care of babies, and obeying Mansour. This was not what she had thought of marriage. She felt the price she was paying to get away from this house was much weightier one. She suddenly saw a gulf between herself and this man. She saw this gulf as a barrier, an unmovable mountain between them which made them to never agree with each other, to never speak with each other or communicate in a friendly manner. And wasn't it best not to speak to such man at all?

She knew by admitting these new thoughts to Mansour, their relationship, if there was any, would never be the same, before even they would start. To realize her new, which in fact was not new, feelings that were just came to being in her uproarious soul was more painful than a physical blow. Yet she knew and was certain that these sensations belonged to the true part of her which now quickly would be smothered by the cruelty of life, the life she had chosen.

All part of her body ache and resulted her a tremendous horror. Memories, past life, thoughts, and feelings within her stirred in this new aversion and she practically twisted in pain. Tears rushed down her face. She covered her face with both hands. She was mourning the death of her life, her childhood, her...

"If I only had a wing,

I could fly out from this unearthly sight.

If I knew how to sing,

I could enchant a song on the height.

If I only had the God's ring,

I could bring green breeze into spring.

But all I still know is wondering."

To Be Continued

UNFULFILLED-Five-@@@ The Wedding

"It's hot, hot, I'm burning up." Neda kept complaining.

"It'll be soon over." Maryam said as though Neda was going for a surgery or she was sick and they were expecting the doctor to come and give her medicine. "It'll be all over soon!"

When she had fainted, without paying attention to her mother's entreaty, Neda took her gown out after she came back to consciousness . That wedding gown was heavy, itchy, it was not her style. Maryam helped her to put on her so many kilogram of fabric which called wedding dress and attached the train of the dress and then the headpiece on her hair. Neda begged Maryam to make her hair less puffy, which Maryam did. The guest were all over the house. She had not seen Mansour all day. A thought suddenly flashed in her mind: "What if he doesn't show up!?" She share that thought with her cousin.

"He is already here."Maryam responded with a twitch in her eyes. For some strange reason, Neda was hoping for a different answer.

Neda was taken to a room on the first floor, the formal living room. All the furniture had been removed. In the center of the room, they had set the customary stole, rug, mirror, and the rest of decoration that went with them. For ceremony only women were allowed in the room. She sat on the stole among the decoration. Maryam, who was her only girl cousin and her only bridesmaid, covered her face with veil. She could see herself through the mirror in the big, decorative mirror which was leaned on the wall. She almost did not recognize herself. Some women in the family were holding the white muslin over her head and rubbing the two heads of sugar cubes together. The women who were doing this could not be divorced or widowed; unmarried women were okay.

The odor mixed with perfume and makeup of women in the room was making Neda to nauseate. She was about to faint again. She needed air. She kept saying to herself: "Hang in there; it'll be over soon, just a little more. I just wish they took the children out of this room!"

The Mullah was sitting behind the door in the hall way. All men were in the hall way; however some of them were in the yard. Mansour and her father were standing next to the Mullah. They were not allowed inside until the end of ceremony.

"Hurry up, hurry up!" Neda kept saying to herself. Suddenly The Mullah began the ceremony. All other sounds died out. Now it was complete silence. He read some verses of Koran. Neda was told and also rehearsed that when Mullah would ask her: "Would you accept this man as your husband, and be obedient and dutiful...", she should not answer right away. The custom was that the Mullah should say the marriage wow three time and after the third time, the bride would say yes.

Neda felt like answering right away and get it over with. However she did not want to cause a commotion. When The Mullah recited the marriage wow which sounded to her more like becoming slave to one's husband for the third time, she was thinking about unfairness of the wow that women had to take; and she missed saying yes. An uproar began. Her cousin, Maryam whispered something in her ears. She opened her eyes and with a stifled voice said: "Yes!" All women in the room began screaming. Children were making noises. Everybody were clapping. It was finally over. Her father was the first to enter the room. After raising her veil and kissing her, he put the big book of marriage that he was carrying with himself on her knees and showed her the places that she should sign. She noticed that Mansour had already signed his parts. Her father also had signed both as a witness and as a guardian of the teenage girl. Now she was a married woman. She looked at her father, while he was putting a ruby neck-lace around her neck and whispered in his ear: "Why dad, why?" Jalal got up and allowed Mansour to take his place. Mansour came inside. They brought another stole and he sat next to Neda. Maryam standing in her back took the extra veil out, the one that she had used as blush to cover her face. She arranged the rest of the veil and her hair. Now it was time for congratulations and kisses and hugs. She almost went numb by all of them. Then her mother gave her the ruby earrings, ring, and bracelet which was a complete set with the neck-lace that her father had given her earlier. This was a surprise to Neda. They were able to keep it hidden from her. They new that Neda liked ruby more than diamond. Neda thought of this one thing that they did right. She knew about them, but they have hidden from her what kind. Mansour's family did not give her anything. She heard some women were talking about it.

At the reception, she felt better. At least she was not confined to one place. Now she was able to mingle and eat. Her wedding gown had a detachable train which Maryam removed it in Neda's room. She also removed the long veil, and left the short one. She freshened her makeup, too.

Now she was able to sit in the garden where there was breeze, birds and trees. Yes, she was a married woman now. There was no way back. As she thought about being married, a shocking fear shook her to the deepest core of her body. She had to go to her apartment that night, her own home. She liked the sound of "my home"; but that was the only thing she liked about the whole ordeal. She had to sleep with Mansour! Then she thought about her room here, in her parents' home! How could she give up her beautiful room she had slept in all her life; had written her first poem, had studied? Was her responsibility now was, as the Mullah said to be obedient and dutiful; to cook and clean like her mother? Would she be now a housewife? How come she had not thought about all these before? She did not know how to cook, how to clean, and how to be a housewife! She did not know how the first night would be like! No one, not even her mother, had told her anything about it! The fear was so great that none of that day's misery and confinements were equal to it. "What have I done!?"

To Be Continued

UNFULFILLED- Five- ^*^* The Wedding

It was Neda's first time to be in the beauty salon. She was certain in would be her last. They had come there at eight in the morning, now it was two in the afternoon and they were not finished yet. To her everything so far was torture. It was pang to sit still and let the Wig Woman with painted face to touch her face and her hair; it was agony to listen to her jokes and unwarranted comment, and it was misery to be hungry and thirsty at the top of everything.

While sitting on the chair with her head inside the hood or what ever it was so her hair would dry out with rollers on it, the woman began working on her nails.

"Why didn't you let your nail grow long? Do you chew your nail?

Neda had hard time to hear her since her ears being inside the hood. So she raised the thing. The Wig Woman was losing her patience with her. She repeated her question. Oh, how much she hated that woman! There was another beautician, seemed much nicer, who was now doing Maryam's hair. Her aunt Zari was almost down. Her mother called a few times. She said that it was getting too late. Neda cried and complained that she was hungry. Finally at three o'clock a car sent for them. Neda was dizzy, hungry, and angry. She hated her big hair. The Wig Woman had her hair half up and half down. Her hair looked like rolls and rolls of hair up and some down to her waist. Her face was itchy and she felt this burning sensation on her face. She hated her painted, artificial nails. She remembered the Wig Woman complained about her nail:

"I have no choice. You have no nails. I got to put these fake ones on your nails."

She attached the headpiece to her hair, at the top of the mountain. She finished her make up which under no circumstances she would do any less. At the end, Neda thought that she looked like the Wig Woman. Maryama helped her to put her gown on.

Neda was still agonizing of physical pain of removing her facial hair. They were already some red bumps appearing in her face. When they were finally home, she asked for food. Her mother said:

"No, you're going to mess up your makeup!"

"I'm starved, mom. I am going to faint."

After arguing for a while and Neda threatening to go and wash out all those paints, she told her mother:'

"Mom, what is more important, my makeup or me being hungry?"

Mehri finally allowed her to eat. Neda took a bite and felt like throwing out. She still was smelling the Wig woman's perfume mixed with her sweat all around her. She was not able to swallow the food. She felt hot, cold, nervous, and itchy. She wanted to be left alone even if it was for a little while. But no, no, she could not. The house was filled with people. Everybody wanted to see her. They all had an opinion. They all were touching her. Someone pushed the top of her hair down. She heard:

"Too big!"

Neda could not stand it anymore. She could not tolerate all these women, children, all the noises, her makeup, her big hair, the itch on her face...

When she came out to awareness, her mother was crying; but Neda later would find out that her mother's tears were not for her fainting but it was for her hair and makeup being all messed up. Maryam, her cousin, who was going to beauty school and working at the same time, managed to fix her up again.

To Be Continued

UNFULFILLED- Five- {_}_{_} The Wedding

Mixed emotions like sadness or happiness, love or hatred, romance or lust, failure or victory, which were following each other in Neda's mind like a confused thoughts of a neurotic person soon came to an end. They all came to to finish line in the morning of of her wedding day. She woke up that morning almost certain, almost sure. That day, full of things she had to do, or more correctly things that were supposed to be done to her, did not leave her any time to think or reflect. She just needed to go through the things she had to do; no time for thinking about her feelings, or her doubts or hesitation.

First thing in the morning, she went to the beauty salon with her cousin, Maryan, and her aunt Zari, Maryam's mother. Those days it was not customary for girls to wear make up or to clear up their facial hair until the day of their wedding. The first thing they did to her was to remove extra hair from her full eyebrows and remove her facial hair with a waxed thread. The whole thing was so painful that a few times she got up from the chair and ran outside the salon. Maryam, her cousin chased her and brought her back. When they were finally done with this awful task, Neda announced that she would never again clear her eyebrows or wax her face. She kept that promise. She could never forget that pain, that crying, even screaming, the running away from that torture chamber which their job was to beautify her. She never forgot the beautician, the woman who was in charge of her with her painted face, blond wig, long, manicured nails and her two gold teeth in front of her mouth. To Neda, she looked more like a prostitute than a beautician. Many years later, Maryam, her cousin, agreed with her.

Then it was time to fix her hair; and pin up the hairpiece at the top of her puffy and mountain like hair. Another woman was working on Maryam and her mother. Of course Maryam did not have to go through the torture of removing her facial hair since she was unmarried; but Neda noticed that her aunt Zari did not mind to have her face cleared up especially since Neda's father was paying for the whole thing.

Neda could never forget the woman, who was in charge of her with her two gold teeth when she made a comment when Neda was crying:

"You think this is bad, wait till tonight!"

The way she said that left such a distaste in Neda that she almost wanted to kill her. What that woman said to her was not understandable to her first, but slowly she realized that the beautician meant the first love making. There was a shudder that ran through her spine and brought sweat to her face. She had not thought about it; but now in that salon, she wondered what love making would be like! Would it be really painful?

How did the fixing of her hair begin? She decided to call the woman with golden teeth, "Wig Woman". First the Wig Woman shampooed her hair, trimmed it a little which Neda objected to it. She liked her hair the best part of her body; and no one could make her to cut it. She had heard praises about her hair from her classmates and then family and Mansour. She objected to Wig Woman for trimming her hair, but the beautician said that her hair was uneven. She thought that perhaps on this one issue the the Wig Woman was right. She always trimmed her hair herself to get rid of the split ends.

The Wig Woman put rollers on her hair. At this point Sohrab, her brother came. He had brought ice cream for everyone, courtesy of their father. Neda pulled up the hood of the blow dryer and got up to eat ice cream. She was hungry; she needed a break. The Wig Woman objected it. Sohrab told her to leave her sister alone. Neda had seen emotion her brother to get emotional but a few times and this one was one of them. He looked at her with a strange gaze. To Sohrab, his sister's girlhood was already gone. He hugged his little sister and whispered in her ears:

"Are you okay little sis?"

Neda cried on his shoulder and tried to hide her face from him. She was ashamed of the change that had happened to her face. After he left, they all went back to what they were doing before he had come with the welcome ice cream.

To Be Continued

UNFULFILLED- Five {~}~{~} The Wedding

When Mansour looked at Neda, her, her soft, peaceful eyes and the brilliance in her face, they all affected him in a way that he forgot all their fights. Her tranquil existence these days was never unsuccessful to carry him to bliss and a world of serenity where he felt gentle and harmonious and full of love. He completely forgot all about their continuous struggle and disagreement and her being so opinionated. All he saw was that Neda had passion and she did everything these days with ardor.

However, as content as Neda was, she had her doubts, too. Sometimes she wondered if this happiness was just an illusion, if her desire to get married was only a way to escape from the chaos of recent months at her home. All of a sudden with a shocking clarity, she believed that she was not in love, but she was grabbing the first road to freedom that had come on her way; that she had spoken a terrible lie when she told Mansour that she loved him. The uncertainty at these times became unbearable to her. In those occasions, she realized that now she had no way out of breaking up. When she was in this state of mind, she felt drained of energy. Not only she would not find anyone to talk to to, but there was no one around in that crowded house to see her devastation. The only one person that she would say things to occasionally was Maryam, her cousin, four years older than her. She was a beautician. Neda liked the fact that her cousin was financially independent. However, she was not always around specially when Neda was in search of someone to talk to. The agonizing impact of these thoughts, at these times were so overwhelming that she would forget herself, she would not remember what she was doing, she would think no more of her school and lessons that she had memorized them; and she would walk without an aim in mind for hours. When she felt this way, she would rush out of the house so not to see any one. She would walk fast to leave the alley, where their home was, with her head lowered, looking but not seeing, thinking but not being able to reflect, remembering without knowing what she recalled. The only thing she would recollect was her last conversation with her fiance, the ones that were all about their differences. She wrote a poem in one of these hesitating time. She named it "Illusion".

"A withered reflection of hesitation and fear

In oscillating water appear.

An indelible solace caresses the face.

A tempting whim disguises the grace.

The weary image shines with power.

Despairing confusion rises as a tower.

The bitter disdain of one's heart,

Mocks the broken promises too far apart.

The variant emotions are not for measure;

But the mortified lives we treasure.

Separation marks a gloomy fright.

Wisdom fails, but hearts unite.

The broken face in the water glows.

The illusion is what the hero knows."

School year was soon over with all the turmoil at home and in her heart. She passed all her exams. She had one more year to finish high school; and since she was getting married, for the next school year, according to the law of the Ministry of Education, she would not be able to attend the regular school as a married woman. However, she could finish her last year by attending a special school which was for married woman. She had already spoken to Mansour about it and he had agreed to it.

To Be Continued

UNFULFILLED_ Five- ~`~` The Wedding

Mehri felt like an inner voice talked to her in a vile and coarse manner, telling her that she was old, undesirable, and unwanted. Therefor all the stains of her being old and unattractive seemed to grab her and tell her that she was not going to escape from this ; she was not going to change, yet she was going to stay the same as she had been with all her hesitation, her ceaseless discontent with her life, and her useless effort to improve. The voice told her that she failed and someone else won; and the perpetual happiness that she was after, would never come to her.

This was the only period in Neda's life that she was not aware of her true feelings and thoughts. She was blinded by love, which later she would discover that it was not love- what was it then? She was not sure because it was not even lust or passion! At the sight of Mansour, joy and pleasure glowed in her eyes and parted her lips into a smile. She could not extinguish the flare of love at these moment for her fiance, even though it was not ordinary for a young girl to show these kind of signs in front of her family.

Having the final exams and also being busy for the "PREPARATION" for the wedding resulted that Mansour and Neda did not see each other much these days. His family which was only his mother and a single sister were at Neda's home to help, since they could not contribute financially. Both women were unassuming and unimportant like her mother. They did not say much. Only once Neda saw that his mother and her mother had some kind of argument. Later she asked her mother:

"Oh, that was nothing. She wanted to make the train of your gown a little shorter. I told her that they are not even paying for the damn thing!"

Neda thought how was it possible that her mother took revenge of her doomed life on the weaker woman!

However not having so much talk with Mansour these days gave Neda this false hope that everything was fine and soon she would be the master of her own home. They paused when they saw each other, glanced at each other, or secretly kissed. Things that had nothing to do with conversation, made Neda to forget his idea of marriage was to have a dutiful wife and for her at that moment was only the bliss of being married and to leave her parental home.

She looked prettier than before even though she was not a very beautiful girl. They say people in love glow. Neda radiated. Despite her mother with ashen face, Neda looked like sunshine with a splendour that every time Mansour looked at her, he felt he should divert his eyes from her so the sun rays would not burn his eyes.

To Be Continued

UNFULFILLED-Five- The Wedding

The foolish preparation for wedding destroyed all the happiness for Neda. Yes the absurd anticipation, things had to be bought, the invitation had to be sent out, and that pointless and laughable wedding gown that in no way Neda could convince her mother for something simpler. Mother was in control of something, and her words these days were final.

Father, who had had a very high hope for his favorite little Girl, Neda, at this point, truly did not care one way or the other. He was just spending the money and would give Mehri as much money as she wanted. Father did not care that Mansour did not have money to pay for Neda's wedding gown, or pay for the wedding (as it is customary in Iran). Why didn't he care? Neda was the only one who made him ashamed of what he had done! He still loved Neda, but he wanted her out of the house; and marriage was the only way! After many years of a boring life that had become like a routine, now he felt alive, good, and blessed. For not losing all these great feelings, he did not care that his daughter was about to marry a man twenty years older than her with no money, no real job, and no real education. His reason was: "Mansour has prospective. He is a good man. He'll take care of Neda, and would be able to bring her down to earth." He truly believed that Mansour had potential to provide a good life for Neda. He just needed to help them out at the beginning. Jalal was of the opinion that Neda's marriage would not be a momentary impulse by her or Mansour, but it would be an even that would last for ever. He had already forgotten that he had set all these himself' or perhaps if he thought that it was not him that brought them together, the matter would be forgotten. When all the commotion in his house would be over, he thought, his new normal, yet exciting life with Sima would be back. He thought his first wife, Mehri, was so submissive and needy that she could not in any way annoy them. And about his son, Sohrab, he knew that he did not care one way or the other. The only one who was giving him an uneasy inclination was Neda. She would be gone in short order to her own place. He even rented an apartment for the bride and groom and paid six months rent in advance. This one, he said was his wedding gift to them besides the usual entire household furniture, a bedroom suit, and of course the cost of the wedding itself. Nevertheless, he told Mansour that he needed to find a real job, and to finish his college, and to provide for his young bride to be.

"I'm helping you guys now to start, because I know you're made for each other; but you must do it yourself in short order!"

Yes, the ludicrous arrangement for wedding caused that Jalal to talk more to Mehri, his first wife, than to Sims, the second one. However speaking a few words occasionally to her had its own exquisite charm. Some days, not even one word was spoken between the two of them, but they enjoyed each other completely by analytic and penetrating use of looking at each other and by hearing each other's voice when talking to others. They told each other more by not speaking than when they spoke. Jalal could see in Sima, in sparkling light in her eyes, in laughter of passion and satisfaction that she showed in her face without even being aware of them, in her natural firmness, in her certain contentment, and in the movement of her body, more than when he was in bed with her and touching her. He knew that she was not offended or upset since he could not spare some time for her during the day because of the foolish preparation of the wedding.

Mehri, on the other hand, had not forgotten her pain. Her mental suffering was an incurable suffering that she had to endure until the last day of her life. She had never had what was given to Sima in a very short time by her husband. She had given money, business, and the way of life to her husband; Sima had given him light, passion, and life. She could not compete with that. She knew it was not possible to cure a broken heart, as it was impossible to collect spilled water from the ground. She was conscious of the degradation specially these days that many family members had filled their house for the wedding anticipation. Every look, any hint reminded her of her humiliation even though none was referred to her. She told her sister- in- law one day while wrapping candies in the white net and making a bow at the end of it:

"What I feel is completely sickening and harsh. It is hard to say what it is. It's much more worse than depression. I feel like all the virtue in me have vanished, leaving me only atrociousness."

To Be Continued

UNFULFILLED- Four-~<>~<~> Hesitation

She unexpectedly felt the elevation of this new world that had just opened its view to her. This ambiance was not like her former domain which was a suspicious one. This one was a world filled with uplifting and virtuous apparatuses.

She could think of her former life in a calm manner now. The love for Mansour that had seemed dead in recent days to her, recovered gradually. It rebounded and possessed her heart again. Now she was ready to go through it which was supposed to happen in two months right after finishing of her school year.

Overwhelmed with happiness, she left school and began running. She had time to walk, something so joyful to her, yet she wanted to run. She had another hour, enough time to walk more and to be at school on time. Nevertheless, the sudden delight, she suddenly realized, was more because of her pride than love. She was not aware of it yet; what she was conscious of was that she loved life, the life that used to crawl for her, now was flowing.

That evening when walking with Mansour in the garden, Neda thought about all her behavior of that morning. When making a turn to the bench, where the cherry tree had made a canopy of leaves over it, Mansour's arm brushed her. He understood what she was talking about was of the most importance to her. He was not very happy to notice that as she poured out her desires to him, she was discovering her own personality; something that frightened him- a woman with character. He was nervous and agitated, but his disturbance turned to an awe when he felt the icy and cold hand of Neda in his grip. He clasped her cold hand in his while his muscles spasmed. In the heat of that conversation, she tried to release her hand from his; but her effort for doing that remained vain, and her hand was his.

"You're tormenting yourself and annoying me with all these nonsense." Mansour said with an obvious displeasure. " I feel you even take pleasure in irritating me. Why can you be normal, just like other girls? Just go through life as it comes your way, as it happens!"

Neda suddenly released her hand from his grip; then faced him angrily while her eyes blazed.

"What is normal to you? If you're going to be my partner, why shouldn't I discuss with you what I think?"

"Why do you have to think all the time? Just live your life. None of these questions that your seeking answers for are new! People from the beginning of the time have asked them, even have suffered to find out the answer. Nobody knows the answers and they never will!"

"I didn't say that I know the answer." She retorted. "I may never do. But these thoughts occupy my mind; they ravage my heart to pieces."

"You're not even sixteen yet. I guess all these upheaval has something to do with your age and hormones, you be so young!" He forced a smile saying that.

"I may be young, but I'm not your typical high school girl. I know it; and knowing it gives me all these turbulence and commotion. I knew it long time ago. I know it now; and I am sure I feel the same in years to come. All these anguish I'm talking about had taken shape in me long ago. Within years, they've grown, they've become immense; and now, just recently they have borne fruit, resulting all these wild questions that exhaust me and now you. They inexorably demand of me for an answer, a solution. I can't help what I think or feel! I wish I was normal as you put it. I guess I'm not. This is a characteristic of a poet or a painter, or a musician, or any artist..."

Mansour did not respond at once. He was pondering over his own issues. He wondered if it was wise for him to marry a girl so much younger than him and so immature!

However Neda knew that all her ambiguity and strange behavior were not a new thing. Before today, even yesterday or last week, they seemed to be like a dream; but beginning this morning, they suddenly revealed themselves in this new and surprising shape that she did not know them even yesterday. All she understood, whatever it took, things should be different for her. They should change. She did not want the life of the ordinary women; but she did not know how she might be able to change it!

"You're not a genius!" Mansour said with an apparent exasperation. "You think you are a poet. Well, you're not in my opinion. You just write about what you see or feel at the time and call it a poem. Everybody can do that. Just give up these craps and be normal! You're driving me insane."

"I don't believe what you just said. If I am not a poet, how come they're publishing my work in a magazine?"

"Oh, that magazine! A stupid magazine for housewives..."

Neda got up and walked inside, actually towards the entrance of the house, yet she did not go inside. She looked like a woman without soul or spirit. She was oblivious and blind with rage. this morning she had come to resolution that she would marry Mansour; now she did not want to.

Not saying goodbye to her fiance that evening, she finally went inside, ran upstairs to her room, ignored her mom's imploring cry to eat dinner and to talk to her. After crying her heart out, when she felt a little better, and a little relaxed, she took a bath and went to bed. She locked the door from inside. She stayed up all night. She decided to break up her engagement the next day.

To Be Continued

UNFULFILLED- Four- ^<>^<> Hesitation

Neda recalled a conversation she had had with her father immediately after his marriage to Sima. She was never afraid of her father. She told him:

"I had so much respect for you before; now it's all contempt. I respect your past; I despise your present!"

Her father, Jalal, answered with a faint smile:

"What you're saying is very far from my feeling and my intent."

Thinking about all these, especially her mother and father, she said to herself:

"If marriage causes lack of individuality and compassion, why am I getting married?"

Yet, she was certain that she would go through it. She needed to get out of this house; and for now marriage was the only road to freedom!

The recollection of all these was very vivid in her mind. It was bright the night before in the twilight, it was lucid when first she woke up and saw dawn. Life was cruel from what she had seen so far and from what she noticed now and everywhere and all the time. This knowledge that she had acquired since her mother's visit the night before was fatal; nonetheless, seemed enchanting. It would be now more lethal even though its mystery made things charming , yet mystifying.

Coming to this conclusion, Neda left home for school without saying good bye to her mother, who was walking in the yard like a stray dog, or having breakfast. Instead of going her normal way to school, she kept walking without an aim. She walked out of her way intentionally, thinking. She knew she would not be late to school since she had left home a couple of hours earlier than everyday. She had to solve many things in her mind. The best way she used to resolve her problems and find the answer was always walking for her. As she walked in the misty air, unexpectedly she realized that there was no point to question herself for all these enigmatic problems that were occupying her mind. To come to that view point was like a shocking finality. As she turned to the street, where her school was, she remembered that she had not said good bye to her mother, who had watched her leaving house in a hurry. At that moment her mother had stood in the middle of the yard under the cherry tree. Now she recalled that her mother had a frozen look on her face; perhaps because she had thought that she was abandoned by everyone.

All these, she just now visualized that had happened many times besides this morning since all these turmoils in their lives had started. She knew her action had been one of ignorance and intolerance so far towards everyone even her poor mother. Now in the yard of school, she pictured her own attitude regarding this new situation, one of the slow endurance and acceptance. Disdain was melting away with her indisputable present.

Family life, all aspects of it, in a picturesque way, came to her vision. her own future family life demonstrated itself to her fancy in a disconnected way. Deep in her heart, she felt that all these issues were resolving, clarifying, and relaxing themselves. She had been apprehensive to study this puzzle before. Formerly she could not think and conjecture how others around her thought and believed. That mental exercise had been strange to her before; but now she understood them better.

She recalled a poem which was among ones to be published. She had called it "IF I WAS FALL". For no apparent reason, standing in the school yard, still being the only student at school, since she had left home so early, she recited that poem to herself:

"Oh, I wish I was fall.

I would be silent, sad and dull.

The leaves of my dream would turn yellow one by one;

Coldness would become to my eyes' sun.

The sky of my heart would fill with pain.

The storm of sorrow in my chest remain;

And like rain, my salty tears gush

To paint my face to color of blush.

Oh, how nice it would be if I was fall;

I would be wild, exciting, colorful, all.

Ahead of me

Would be bitter face of winter dree.

Behind me

was the thrill of sudden summer love and glee;

When in my heart,

Pain, sadness, suspicion took part.

Oh, I wish I was fall."

To Be Continued

UNFULFILLED- Four {~}~{~} Hesitation

Although Neda felt better after writing the poem, her dark eyes showed a strange hatred. These were the same eyes that in placid times revealed only meditative and dreamy feelings. Now sitting on her bed, she looked out through window. Her bed was set right alongside of the window, with only a little space between the bed and the window, so she could sit on bed, dangling her legs on the floor between the bed and the window. She looked outside into the dark; and then opened the window so she can hear the sound of the night. The wind was moaning outside. She listened to its lament among the trees. Then she heard and felt the first drops of rain. Nature's heart was in mourning, as her heart that had suddenly become dull and sad. She folded her hands on her chest as if grieving. A stream of tears rushed down her face.

Despite the fact that she thought sleep would be impossible, the next morning she woke up form a night of more sleep than ordinary times. She was confused by all these mixed emotions that swarmed in her. She opened her eyes, rested, yet still feeling the same unpleasant misery within her as she had felt before sleeping. However this morning things in her mind were more unclear than ever. She was baffled by a great fear that was overshadowing all her other senses. Regret, what a word! She regretted these new auspicious days! Would happy days or prosperous things repeat themselves again? She felt an indescribable hatred towards everything, everyone, and all who had turned their lives to this uproar! Revulsion, she was sure, used to be only a refuge for her in old days; now it seemed that it had become a vocation and comfort.

Through the mist of her inward suffering, she contemplated at the great sadness of her mother and the fact she had no way out of her calamity. She stared through the open window to the thick morning mist and the faded light, to the variation and dullness of morning colors, to the motionless walls around the yard which guarded the house like a prison; and to her lonely mother, who was walking in the yard with the attitude of a hostage to her weakness and captivity in her own house. The shadow of clouds were blush color. The entire home looked to her empty and soundless.

Neda wanted to think of her father as an egoistic man; however, all the former feelings for him clustered in her mind. Was it possible that unselfish man like her father suddenly became selfish? She felt that her father was not self indulgent before. He had just no compassion for life and especially for her mother. She was certain of that. She saw how her parents' lives together was only a habit, an obligation. Now that her father was self- centered, she could see the return of color to his life! When he was unselfish, Neda had discerned that he had no individuality; he was part of the family. Now his independent identity had returned. He was full of life. Neda finally realized that it was the marriage which brought all these complexity to life, even though her father had married this younger woman. Perhaps in his mind he was only married to his first wife, her mother; and this second one was just a love affair which was bringing up his old flare back up to the surface.

To Be continued

UNFULFILLED- Four- {~}~{ Hesitation

Neda was deeply touched. Would her life be like her mother even though she thought not? She wanted to help, to say something, to almost plead to be left alone; but none was possible. She was bounded to her mother forever! Mehri was her mom. Her problems, misery, and unhappiness all were hers, too. But nothing could come out of her mouth to ease her mother's pain even if it was temporary.

A lucid tenderness suddenly painted Neda's face. She got up from her bed and took a few steps to get to her mother, who was still standing at the foot of the bed. They hugged, something both needed so much. However, none of them knew the answer to Mehri's predicament and in fact the dilemma that entire family was forced to endure because of Jalal's second marriage.

"Mom, I don't know what to say. But I won't let you suffer. Things will change. I know it. When I have my book published, then I have money and I can save you!"

Mehri sighed:

"Oh, sweet heart, you live in a dream world. I just wish you have better luck than I did!"

"No, mom, this can't happen to me. I'm strong. I change things."

Mehri smiled bitterly. At that moment she was envious to her ideologist daughter. She wished she had her daughter's efficacy. She left the room as quietly as she had entered.

Neda sat immediately behind her desk to write a poem. The idea just came to her. She had no problem composing it or looking for the right words; for she was clearly fed up with life, their lives. She named it, "Purity". It seemed to her that their lives had changed to an impure and poisonous water, one of the most important element for staying alive, by her father's disgrace:

"The warmth had left sun:

Blessing from earth had gone;

Birds had died in their hearth;

Grass had died on earth;

Earth had refused the dead

From being buried in its bed.

Night had been in uproar,

Like a suspicious vision, nothing more.

And a decision roads had made;

to abandon their continuation ahead.

And people...

Depressed, suspicious and numb;

Traveled far places like dumb,

Carrying their dead bodies in scum.

Perhaps there are still some half dead exist,

Who want to ignore debasement and resist;

Who want desperately to believe

The purity is the last breath life can give."

To Be Continued

UNFULFILLED- Four- ~~~Hesitation

The late that night, around two in the morning, Neda, who could not sleep, sat behind her desk and wrote:

"Among the obscure gloom,

You returned back to my womb.

I saw in the dull sky,

One star was passing by:

One star was burning;

And one star was returning.

*

I called you, I called you.

Choices I made in life, like a sharp knife

Cuts me to pieces while white moon stare;

And reflected the windows from air.

*

There, all night,

Inside my heart with fright,

Someone would call.

Someone would want me all.

There, all night,

From branches so black at site;

Sadness and obscurity would fall.

Someone in darkness would call.

It was demon that took her away.

It was a friend that made my sky gray."

*

Neda, in her room, that evening could not do her home work. The taste of the first kiss was still in her mouth. At the time of that kiss, which she was not familiar to it, she had felt in her body a shivering which contradicted the heat that flew in her veins. She did not know what it meant. However, she had enjoyed that uncommon thrill. "I'm in love!" She said it aloud among her school books, something that in coming days she would doubt more than once. Laying in her bed with closed eyes, she imagined Mansour next to her, touching her, kissing her, caressing her hair. The same sensation trembled her again. She rolled in bed and tried to picture what wedding night would be like! That thought not only pleased her; but it also brought her an immeasurable fear. She did not like this double feelings. "Why fear if I am in love?" She asked herself. Engrossed in her thoughts, she did not realize that her mother came to her room. Her mother never knocked the door. Neda immediately sat on the bed, being afraid that mom could guess what she was thinking about.

"Yes, mom what is it?" She inquired timidly.

"When did you come in from the garden?"

"Oh, I don't know, it's been a while." Neda felt tormented and oppressed by her mother's curiosity.

"Mansour didn't say good bye to us tonight! How come?" Mehri paused and then continued:

"Is everything okay between the two of you?" Her mother quizzed her.

"I didn't know that he didn't say goodbye! I came to my room to do my home work."

"oh, well, that isn't important. I just needed someone to talk to about myself." Mehri gazed thoughtfully into space.

"Oh, not again!" Neda told herself; but to her mother, she said:

"What is going on mom?"

"Oh, nothing, I don't know. I'm just so miserable. Your father and that woman went to a movie tonight."

"Mom, what do you want me to do? You're weak. You let people run all over you and take advantage of you. How can you stand it?" Neda was almost rude. she did not want to hear her mother's problem at the moment that she was trying to figure out her own double feelings!

"What can I do?" Mehri asked as though she was in pain. It was obvious that she felt being deserted and abandoned. She nearly twisted with convulsion. Her hands shook. Her face looked pale and haggard. There was despair in her eyes.

To Be Continued

UNFULFILLED-Four- The Hesitation

Still being in the street with all those military tanks and trucks and men wearing stolen fatigues, carrying Uzis and Kalashnikov; women wearing full hejab (covering themselves); some black chador, some long, loose coats with big scarves covering their head; some carrying their babies in their arms, some in their backs, while holding the hands of their toddlers so they would not lose them, Neda was trying very hard to get to the other side of the street where there were less crowd. She was in the street, almost in the same spot for four hours when she had a chance to look at her watch. A long time had passed since her appointed time to see her Arianna for the first time after all these devastating nineteen years.

She recalled the phone conversation. She had a hard time to believe the woman on the other side of the line was truly her daughter. She had called her "Neda". "Can I speak with Neda?" That was how she had started. Later in conversation, not even once, she had called her mom. In fact she had called her nothing.

"Can I speak with Neda?"

"This is she." Neda had answered.

Then there was a pause, almost too long of a pause; but Neda did not hang up the phone. As famous as she was, she always would get prank calls; but for some reason she did not think this was a phony call. For some strange reason her heart was beating violently, as though she knew. Finally the heavy breathing from the other side stopped and she heard the magical words:

"I'm Arianna!"

Neda held the edge of the table so as not to fall. Her knee buckled. Her heart pounded. beads of sweat appeared on her forehead. There was no chair around. Before falling, she managed to sit on the floor almost unable to talk. This time the pause was even longer than Arianna's suspension could endure. Finally Neda gathered all her strength and said:

"Arianna, is that really you?!"

"yes!"

"Is that really you?" She said it again this time crying, growing suddenly animated.

"Yes, yes, it's me. I'm leaving Iran. I tell you when I see you how I found you." Arianna's voice trembled with emotion. A long silence ensued. Neda felt tormented and oppressed.

"How can you leave? Airports are closed!"

"We found a smuggler. I don't want to stay here. This is not my country anymore!"

Neda shuddered and went as white as a corpse.

"I don't blame you! Did you know that I am your mother?"

"No, my mom and dad never told me about you!"

Now she was crying hysterically. Neda could hear her weeping. Her eyes widened and she exhaled a soft stream of grieving.

"How did you find about me?" Neda was finally able to bring out those words from her mouth.

"It is a long story. I want to see you before I leave. My dad doesn't know that I'm contacting you and I want to see you! But my mom knows."

"Can you just tell me some thing? Are you blaming me for this?"

Again there was a long delay. Her silence was painful

"No, I don't blame you. I love your poetry. A lot of times, since I found out, I feel you're writing about me. I write poetry, too, but nothing like yours. My dad makes fun of me. I guess he made fun of you, too. Sometimes ago a friend of mine and I were reading your biography in the back jacket of one of your book. My friend, out of blue, told me how I look like you." She stopped at this point, breathing heavily.

Neda was shaking all over. Kasra came to the room and found her on the floor, looking like a dead person. He questioned her with his eyes. She waved her hands for him to leave her; but he stayed. Neda did not object it. He could hear the conversation , since Neda switched to the speaker phone. She finally asked Arianna:

"How did you connect the missing parts?"

"That evening I told my mom and dad about what my friend had told me. They both went as white as a sheet. They stayed speechless. Then I knew. I demanded the truth. My dad told me about the short marriage he had with you!" Arianna said these as if to her self. Neda cried convulsively. "So she looks like me! She likes poetry!" She said those in her speaking mind.

"Are you there?" Arianna asked her.

"Yes, I am." Neda's answer was inaudible. What Arianna could hear was her crying.

"Please don't cry. I want to see you before leaving."

Neda gathered the last energy that she could find and said:

"When are you leaving?"

"I think next week! It depends to the smuggler..."

"One week!"

"Yes, may be even less..."

Neda began crying again.

"Please come tomorrow. I want to see you. May we smuggle together. Come to my friend's home, Roya. I don't want my father to know about this. My mom knows, but she promised that she won't say anything to my dad."

"Smuggle together?!" Neda fainted at this point. Kasra, who by now knew what was going on, took the phone and talked to Arianna. He got the address and telephone number of her friend, Roya; where mother and daughter would meet for the first time the next day.

To Be Continued

UNFULFILLED- Three(~)~(~) Three- The Others

Mansour frowned slightly and did not say anything for a moment, as though thinking what kind of answer best suited her. Finally he said:

"You and your ideas!" He began after the short silence: "Sometimes I feel that your convictions are dangerous! Why don't you open your eyes and see where you are, where you live? Why can't you go along with the reality of your life, our lives in general?"

"Reality of our lives stinks. Look at my poor mother! Yes, I am an idealist. I don't want to be like my mother." She averted her eyes while speaking and remove his hand from hers.

He got up from the bench and walked a little. He lit a cigarette and returned to where she was sitting. He stood in front of her.

"To be too idealistic sometimes hurts people." He said calmly.

"So let us be wounded! At least we know what to do; we can get in a fighting position to defend ourselves, so what!"

"So you don't care to be injured?" He almost demanded an answer from her.

"No, if I must pay a price for my viewpoint, I will pay that price."

"So if I tell you that you can't do certain things when we're married, what would you do?"

"You must be joking! You want to use my love to dominate me! I won't allow it."

"But if I did!" He wanted a straight forward answer.

"Then I don't stay with you!"

There was a silence that ensued. The sky was suddenly darkened in the garden. Quietly the shadows of night crowded from sky to where they were sitting. Things lost their color irksomely.

"You don't know life. You're still a child, a stubborn child." He said bitterly

"Oh," She smiled. "Why are you marrying a child then?"

But before he was able to answer, she continued:

"I want to feel the life, to see it all, to touch all sides of it. For that I even risk my life!"

"Oh, you're so naive. All you think about is rebelling. You say things just to be against everyone else. That is just your habit. I'll bet you'll calm down in a few years when you see your ideas are just ideas and nothing else."

"We see!"

"Are you angry at me?" He asked her discontentedly.

"No!'

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not. It's time to go inside. I haven't done my homework yet."

They walked inside the building together. The hallway was dark. A dim light gave a little shade of light at the end of the hallway, where there was a storage room under the stairs. They gazed at each other in silence. She would remember this stare for the rest of her life. To her, his desirous and fervent glare grew intense. She saw that his glance pierced her through her deepest and most internal awareness. She shuddered. He saw it. He offered his hand. She refused it.

"I'm going home now. Can I hug you?"

She looked bewildered. A minute ago he was explosive; now he was gentle. She was not sure which of them needed the other more. She slowly put her arms around his neck. He kissed her for the first time, a prolonged kiss.

She went to her room and wrote a poem that showed her ambiguity about their relationship:

"The part of my body choose

To do things beyond my command.

But when life doesn't confuse,

They listen to me like a friend.

When my eyes see enchanting change,

They glow with a fire of gale.

When my soul is not strange,

It diminishes the color of pale.

When my head craves for ease,

It doesn't hurt of a constant pain.

When my legs carry me to breeze,

They endure the nature, sun or rain.

At times, love melts into sky.

Mind is tired of what we've done.

Obscurities won't be untangled, they die.

Eyes loose the sight of what we've begun

When they only want to see why!

A beloved, who has searched for long,

Comes upon her love, where ever it was laid.

Love has a new look, like a new song;

Echoes in air, as we are over our dread.

It has a genuine feeling, no longing for wrong;

But is it this new born love what we've said?"

To Be Continued

UNFULFILLED- Three- {_}{_} The Others

Their engagement was not without quarrel. Neda had ideas that Mansour did not like. At his age, without knowing that he was set up by Jalal, he had chosen Neda for reasons of his own. First she was very young; and he believed he could shape her character in any way that suited him best. Second, she was almost pretty, if it was not for her slender and girlish body. Third, she was from a good family, a very well respected family which was very important to him. She was unassuming and shy, so he thought. Marrying an insecure girl was important to him; and above all, in recent months she had gone through a lot of turmoil at home because of her father's second marriage and she had witnessed her mother's capitulation to this new situation. Mansour thought all these would make her to yield to him entirely; would make her to look at him as his hero, would make her to worship and admire him fully; and most of all would revere him, only him. His imagination created all these occurrences on this young girl. He found her to be a perfect wife for himself. What he did not know was that beneath the skin of this shy and diffident girl laid a tiger of woman, who was nothing like her mother.

Mansour, of course had his doubts, too. There was another side to this measured girl that truly bother him. She constantly talked about the mediocre culture they lived in and especially the way women were treated. She also talked about her goals and dreams. "I'll be a famous poet one day." She had said that to him so many times that if he heard it one more time, he would probably leave her.

Each evening when they saw each other, before proceeding to almost familiar tone of their conversation of the evening before, he would ponder on the question: "will she be commendable or obnoxious tonight?" And Neda would ask herself: "Will we be friend or enemy tonight?"

In his opinion, her ideas about life were beyond a woman's capability; however internally he knew that women like men were able of understanding and creating. But he did not want that kind of woman for himself. He had his doubts about this whole thing; nonetheless, even in their constant disagreeing, Neda was always lovely. He hoped that things would be different when they were married and she would settle down like her mother or his mother. Acting more like a teacher to her than a fiance, one evening he told her:

"You must consider the society, your family's status, my feeling before soaring to sky with all your dreams!"

Neda, who was never without an answer, retorted:

"You want to put me in a box; but box has doors, and I can go outside. I've gotten to a moment of my life that I pick my ideas and poetry over pleasing others any time! I want to live my life fully. I don't want to fall into shallow existence that sometimes hypocrites like you would impose on me."

To Be Continued

UNFULFILLED- Three- {~} The Others

Neda had mixed emotions when she looked at her father and Sima together. The way he looked at his new, young bride seemed to Neda as if Sima was life itself. She was too young to recognize if this relation was all passion and lust or was something more profound. She talked to Mansour about her confusion. His response was:

"A man needs passion in his life all the time. A woman loses her eroticism when she gives birth. Then her children become her affection. Your father is not that old. It is obvious that he has no desire for your mom because your mom has no craving for him. A lot of men don't do anything about it, or perhaps do temporary things. Your father did something about it."

His answer somewhat made sense to Neda; however, it was harsh.

"I wouldn't be that way when I have a child." She retorted.

"All women are the same. You're no exception."

Neda thought for a moment and then exclaimed incredulously:

"No, I won't be that way. I am a poet. Poetry is all about strong emotion and feeling. I'm different."

Mansour shook his head and gave of his unbecoming laughter that Neda never liked:

"You and your poetry...!"

She never liked when he made fun of her writing poetry, or belittled her or called her writing "Childish stuff". For days she thought about what Mansour had told her. They were engaged now. Was it possible that a baby would replace a man for a woman? She really did not know the answer! It seemed to her that it had for her mother.

This was not the first time in her life that Mehri realized that she was exposed to the onslaught of the culture. She had experienced this kind of calamity by her father and brothers before. Now it was her husband's supposedly superior mind which was set against her by the most horrific abhorrence. She began despising herself since she did not know how to defend herself for this great humiliation. She thought if she would praise her rival, Sima, her husband would at least give her back the respect she deserved. As it was customary in the rare occasion that a husband took a second wife, the first wife would always be the first lady of the house. Mehri voluntarily stepped back from that role and allowed Sima to become the first lady!

This gesture brought Neda such an anguish that she was at the point of breakdown. Her mother's beautiful soul, in which perhaps falsity would prevail from now on, and it would be shaken in the most sever way, was no more.

In the middle of one night Neda woke up by some noises. She decided to step outside and use the bathroom, too. What she saw, she would never forget. Her mother was standing without shoes without her robe, behind the door of bedroom of Jalal and Sima with her ears pressed to the door. She even did not notice that Neda was out of her room until she touched her.

She was so shocked that Neda could see even in dark her shaking.

"What are you doing mom here, mom?"

Mehri did not answer anything and ran down the stairs. Neda had heard also the noise. Her father and sima were having passionate time with each other. Neda knew what was happening. Would she have done what her mother had? Perhaps yes; nevertheless, in the morning she told her mother what a poor soul she had turned into. Mehri had her to promise not to say anything to anybody about the event. She was not about to.

In a short time, Neda thought that she had lost both her mother and father. She tried to make friend with Sima but to no avail.

Her erroneous love to Mansour was not apparent to her or to her family. Father had planned all these for Neda, and what became of that scheme bore its fruit. Mansour had agreed to come to their home every evening. He had agreed to the engagment. The only person who made Jalal uncomfortable for marrying a second wife was his daughter. His friends, all of them, cheered him up, and perhaps even envied him. They wanted the same for themselves, if they could afford it.

Now that they were engaged, Mansour's visits on evening became much more intense. They were not allowed to leave the house without a chaperon. In honesty, father even did not mind that; he was just pretending that he was acting according to custom. However, no one stopped Neda and Mansour of walking in the garden, or sitting on the bench beneath the great cherry tree.

To Be Continued

UNFULFILLED- Three-~`~` The Others

This imaginative touch and contact brought Neda a false happiness that was disturbed by qualm and apprehension. She, who longed for her father, the way he used to be, found a new father in Mansour. Notwithstanding, she mistook this feeling of wanting her father back with being in love with Mansour. If she only knew that her mother, as always, was right.

Her mother's recent complaining and feeling sorry for herself made her children to forget her perpetual wisdom. Father did not object Neda's marriage to a man much older than her with no real job or education. Mehri was right. He had planned all these to get rid of Neda, since she was the only one who knew how to make him conscience- stricken of himself. He was better off without Neda at home. He knew Neda hated Sima, his second wife. He knew they would never get along. If Mehri, his first wife, finally accepted the existence of the second wife, Neda would never approve of her or her father's second marriage. There would always be a turmoil in the house especially when Neda would be a little older. The only bachelor he knew at the time was Mansour. He knew that Mansour was not an evil man; but he also knew that he and his daughter had nothing in common. But that was not his concern or standard to marry off his daughter at this point. All he cared for then was that Mansour was a decent man. He hated and resented the intrusion of his fifteen years old daughter on his personal affair!

Jalal was a changed man! He wanted passion in his life. Sims, he believed, was the one who could give him that affection. Intimacy with this new wife was delightful and so different than what he had with his first wife. Sima gave him pleasure; Mehri did a job; Sima mutually enjoyed their affinity and knew what he wanted. She had desire of her own. Mehri used to tell him to hurry up and get it over with. How poorly he and Mehri understood each other. That was an obvious thing to him and to the majority of men his age around him, who observed the new him with envy, yet gratification.

The way Mehri acted when it came to closeness with her husband was not an unusual action for women her age or even younger. Women were never taught to enjoy intimacy the same way men did. In fact their mother's advice to them on their wedding night had always been to be dutiful, to please their husband, and to bear children; but never among those counsels were: "You have right, too. Intimacy is for both men and women; or you can refuse to have children."

Therefore, Mehri was not an exception. She did her job well; she was dutiful, she bore two children; and after that for some unknown reason, she never got pregnant again. Since she had done her role well as a wife, Jalal's indiscretion made her to suffer even more. She just could not stop moaning and crying.

Neda could never forget or forgive her mother's complaining and whining. She did not understand why mom did not do anything about her misfortune which in her opinion was horrific and disgraceful. Why didn't she cry and lament for her husband? Why didn't she say those hateful words to Sima, her rival? Then it came a day that mother immersed herself in defeatism. That was the day that father was finished with decorating a room for his new bride and brought Sima home with a lot of fan fair. Mehri continued her grieving, but now only when she was alone. It came a day that she finally accepted the second wife of her husband. She talked to others about her situation in a way that seemed to her audience that she has convinced herself that Jalal had a God given right to have another wife. Her pain now appeared to be more physical than emotional.

To Be Continued