"Why people have to surrender to the things that offend their soul and their existence? Why can't they listen to the beating of their hearts when disagreeable things confront and threaten them? Why isn't there any air for healthy breathing around when one gasps for just a simple life saver breath? And why is out in open just like a closed room without a window?"
These were Neda's thoughts when Sohrab, her brother drove her and Mansour to their new home almost at the crack of dawn. She, in the back seat of the car, lowered the window and began breathing eagerly the stinky stench of the polluted air. Her head was throbbing with pain. She felt dizzy, yet strangely she sensed an uncommon energy inside her that flickered from her burning eyes and showed itself in her pale face. She did not know what that passion was, where it came from; but whatever it was and where ever it came from, it made her feel a little better about herself. Joy and sorrow, fondness and elation followed each other suddenly like the despondency of a paranoid as they had come to her sight.
They were all silent. Sohrab was aware that something was not right. The two people in his car did not act like a bride and a groom. They behaved more like an old couple on their fiftieth anniversary than a newly wed. He did not think by saying a word he would help the situation. Looking in the rare view mirror, he saw his little sister's shadow in the darkness of the car. He could tell without seeing her that her eyes were burning and her face was pale. He remembered that he had argued with their father about his sister's marriage to this man, twenty years older than her. He conjured up that he had told his father that Neda deserved better and she was too smart to become a housewife.
"She needs to finish her education, to achieve her goals. She'll become a famous poetess if you let her!"
He recalled how his father's response had filled him with anger and some what horrible feeling. He had noticed the extreme indifference in his father.
"Mansour is a good man. I know him for a long time. Neda can't do any better than him!"
He thought back to how disturbed he had become to hear his father's description of his sister; that she could not do any better than Mansour.
"It seems to me that you want to get rid of your own daughter, dad! Is that it? Does she dishearten you for what you've done to our mother?"
He pondered how upset he had made his father by saying the truth. Sohrab, like Maryam, believed that their father wanted to get rid of Neda so he could have a peaceful life with his second wife; while it was their mother's money, his first wife, that had made him what he was.
Sohrab liked Mansour as a friend. He knew that Mansour was not an evil person. But he always wondered why a man his age had not settled down either in any particular career or in his personal life. His heart suddenly sank, looking at the shadow of his sister in the back seat. He imagined terrible things would happen to her living with this man. He could not stay silent anymore:
"Are you okay little sis back there?" This was the way he always called Neda. It was like an expression of endearment. There was so much affection in the words "little sis", especially the way he said it.
Neda suddenly was awed by hearing a sound besides her heart beats. She laid her hand on her brother's shoulder.
"I'm fine. Why do you ask?"
"I don't know! You just don't look or act like yourself anymore!"
"So he had noticed!" Neda thought. At least someone had envisioned that she was not acting like her old self. But before she was able to answer her brother, Mansour said:
"You know it's normal not to be yourself on your wedding day. It almost feels scary."
Sohrab glanced at Mansour. He liked him but not enough to see him as his brother- in- law. While driving, he could hear Neda's thought and Mansour's outrage. He was following their conversation even though they were not talking. Sohrab, now and always admired his sister, her intellect, her cultivated mind at such a young age; with her frankness, honesty, and candor. He felt that darkness had fallen upon her and therefore him. Everything looked black and because of this gloom he believed that the only thing that could guide him through this obscurity was to visit his sister everyday. He came to conclusion that he should do this one thing very seriously, and clutched and clung to it without any hesitation. Then he tried to listen to Mansour's thoughts, sitting next to him in front of the car. His face suddenly assumed the solemn immobility of a dead; and that contortion did not change through the rest of the drive to apartment. But he needed to say something so both the bride and the groom would know his thoughts.
To Be Continued
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