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
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