Neda still had so much love for her father. She wanted him to give her a chance to blame herself, but he would not allow her that opportunity. He was outrageous. She did not move. Sohrab did not say a word. The father and son had left nothing to be said after the fight of last night. Neda could not open her mouth to utter a word. As strange as it might sound, she still wanted to justify herself in a negative way. Father's power in a very extraordinary way caused her to have this extreme need of substantiating herself whether in a negative or positive way. She looked with desperation at her brother, who was also overwhelmed by their father's anger. Sohrab saw that his sister was asking his help with her searching glance. He understood her nonverbal signal and decided that it was time to stop the father, whom he had no problem to fight with the night before. The respect was already gone. Walls were broken after that battle of words of the night before. Nonetheless, he looked afraid. His round face and large brown eyes were wrought into an expression of frenzied and frantic powerlessness. He began, first stammering, and slowly becoming stronger:
"Dad, screaming and shouting won't do any of us any good. it was a mistake in a first place and you knew it and didn't stop it; In fact you encouraged it. Now we have to think of a solution and that is only a divorce. I never wanted her to marry this worthless friend of yours. Nobody asked my opinion; but now you are all going to hear it. She's already gone through hell. We must stop this fighting for her sake." Sohrab's anger, like the night before, began showing itself slowly but surely. He brought his fist on the table loudly as he finished his little speech.
Father raised his head; looked at his son, and all of a sudden, he was calm. Neda stopped crying. the room was suddenly overcame with silence.
Away from wanting to admit himself to hypocrisy, Jalal felt that he should severely look into his soul and layers of his conscious to conquer the rush of the feelings that unexpectedly were troubling him. On the other other hand, he felt that as a father and head of the family, he was the one that should solve this problem with clear mind. He needed to rescue his daughter from this man, who he thought was a perfect match for her. He noticed that the night before Sima, his second wife, had spent the night with Neda, so it appeared to him that the two women, twelve years apart in age, had built a friendship with each other. After a long silence, he raised his head which was bent into his chest and looked at his son.
"I must talk to Mansour before doing anything drastic."
Neda's first impression was that her father wanted to mend their marriage, to bring them back together. As frightened as she was. she found enough courage to say:
"I don't want to be married to him. Besides he's already had another woman..."
Both father and son looked at her pale face and dry eyes. Jalal said in much calmer voice than before:
"How do you know he is with another woman? Sohrab says the same thing last night!'
"Yes, dad, Sohrab knows it, too. I've been going to school every afternoon for over a month since he left me. I've seen them together everyday. I know everything about her."
Even though he had heard from Sohrab the night before, it was a shocking alarm for him to hear it from Neda's mouth. It was also shocking for Sohrab to hear it again. The guilt at that moment filled up Jalal's soul thinking that his sick daughter was going to school to watch her husband with another woman for over a month; and coming home to vomit everything she had eaten and felt.
"I know honey. I don't want you to stay married to him either!"
That evening in her old room, Neda thought that this house was where she was born, raised, went to school, and began writing poetry. Now she had returned to all those memories. she had left this house seven months ago with strength, now she was back sick, pregnant, and weak.
Was it her own stubborn attitude that was causing this divorce? She knew how strong minded she was in her views. Her ideas only belonged to her. she was kind to everyone, yet she owned her own point of view. No one could rid her of her purpose and decisions. After divorce, she thought, she might sometimes regret it. But there would be a hidden fact in this divorce! She was forced because of her father's action to marry Mansour while she had thought it was her decision. Now she would choose poetry over marriage. With her unyielding mind she would choose poetry over family life.
This house had been a home before, now perhaps it would be a torture. She saw her life at that moment like a glow that was dying, fading away and becoming light less. She sat behind her desk without cleaning the seven months dust on it and wrote:
"When darkness slowly creeps,
A silent, vivacious breeze,
Is felt on my colorless face,
And within my soul, restless of chase.
* My knees buckle and shake;
Can't support me of this ache.
I feel faint and weak.
All I desire to rest, not seek.
* Trying to open my eyes
to see once more the world and skies;
But I find that I can't though;
The fire of living is now a glow.
* I hear a sound afar;
It resembles the wailing of a war.
But still fast, and faster blow
Tells me of my dying glow.
* Another gust of wind is near;
to give my face a last cheer.
Frightened and shivering, I know
The fire of living is now a glow."
To Be Continued
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