Neda decided to go back again the next day and the days that followed. She saw him leaving the school with the same woman every day. One day she stopped a student who was running and asked him while pointing to the woman:
"Do you know her?'
The student looked puzzled; nonetheless, he answered Neda without stopping:
"Yes, I know her. She is our history teacher."
Neda wanted to ask more questions, but the he was gone. She felt a cold tremor in her entire body. she did not understand it. She never loved Mansour, but the question was why then to be upset? She did not know what to do, or what she should do! She stayed long enough to see that Mansour and that woman went towards a blue color Fiat car in the parking lot of the school. They both threw their books and bags in the back of the car; and she sat in the driver seat, and he, next to her, and they drove off. It was obvious that he had found another woman.
He was rejected and disappointed with no hope to salvage their five months marriage. He had met Mitra, a young widow teacher in the cafeteria of school. They had become friends very quickly. It seemed as though they were match made in heaven. Mitra was thirty years old. She had an eight years old son. Her husband had died of cancer five years back. She was from Shiraz, the city of flowers and antiquity. Her parents still lived there. After the death of her husband, she had decided to stay in Tehran, against her parents' will, and to continue her teaching career. She had a small apartment not far from school.
Neda did not know that they were already engaged. Mansour had promised her to divorce Neda before they get married. He was already living with her although such things in their culture was unheard of; but they had kept it very secret. No one at school knew that he was already married and his wife was pregnant.
He had left his home with Neda a rejected man to gain another woman who understood him, adored him, and respected him. He knew that without respect there would be no love. Neda had no respect for him. Mansour had found himself debased with Neda but highly motivated with Mitra. He had left Neda extremely offended and found someone else much superior to Neda. He finally gained what he had lost!
Surprises were not good things; and this bombshell for Neda was beyond shocking. As sick as she was, she went to school almost everyday at the closing time. One day that they didn't have the car, she followed them and discovered where they lived. She even saw the other woman''s son. She saw how they were holding hands while walking. Now two weeks had passed from the day that Mansour had left her. He did not call her or cared that she was pregnant with his child. He had found someone better than her. Neda thought of all these things with throbbing anxiety. Marriage had drained all her energy and power. How could she love again? The terrible thing was that he took the first step to end this not her. This truly bothered her. He had wounded her soul by marrying her; now he was murdering all she believed by his betrayal. Everything was gone. This marriage was like a crime and the result of it was this thing in her womb that she did not ask for it, or wanted it.
She was completely unnerved by this bleak terror, by abstruse fright, disconnected with everything and everyone. She needed help, strength; however, the help she craved was for her emotions not for her physical conditions.
One afternoon, after three weeks, she decided that she should talk to Mansour. She had found this sudden zest for conversation. Besides her family now was so suspicious that they constantly quizzing her about Mansour's whereabouts! She decided to talk to her family after she had her own conversation with this unfeeling man. She finally made up her mind that the next day would be a day that she would confront him outside the school and would ask him to come home to talk. She did not want him; but she did not want this situation either. That evening she felt just a little stronger. She sat in front of a mirror and looked at her pale face. What she saw in the mirror was a woman she did not know; a searching woman! She wrote after many weeks:
"I say good day
To the sun of today:
To my inside scream;
To the cloudy eyes in my dream;
To the plants that painfully grow;
And take me to a season of woe.
And to the migrating bird,
Who sang a tune unheard,
And brought me perfume from a far farm;
And enchanted me with its charm.
And to my mom;
Whose love used to make me numb.
And I will resemble her,
In the old age of despair.
I say good day.
*
I come, I come.
Earth says: 'Welcome.'
My hair becomes perfume of a tree.
My eyes become dark but free.
I come with flowers in hand.
On the entrance of lane, I stand;
And I see a searching woman
In the journey that she began.
To her I say: 'Good day.' "
To Be Continued
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