"Let's go through it." Neda kept saying to herself. She felt things that she had never known before. She was warm, giddy, dizzy, and also laughing uncontrollably. There was no romance; but she was relaxed. She had no choice, being so drunk. There was no talking of love or mood. What he did to her in her drunken state felt good to her.
The two glasses of wine that Neda had drunk very fast, made her a different person, a submissive young girl who was drunk and nude, making love to a man, whom she did not love. Her zest for life, independence, and fight had left her.
They finally fell asleep at eight in the morning. She slept knowing in her darkness state that she was not a virgin anymore. The blood of her virginity that aunt Zari was supposed to carry on a white, embodied handkerchief to her parents' house and to show it to her and Mansour's mother, were all smeared on the white sheet of their wedding bed. The marriage was consummated and sealed. At the time that he took his virginity, she felt a prick. The feeling that only a few hours earlier had seemed dead, rekindled again and arose and took possession of her heart. Right there and then, she decided to respect this man, her husband. He did not want anything that lawfully and religiously was not his. She resolved in her mind that respect was invented to bury the empty place where love used to be. Then she asked herself, in her silent speech:
"Neda, tell me, what you've done. I prefer to know the arduous truth than fantasize it. Now you have become like your mother. And like your father, Mansour also would outlive his love, if there is any; but he doesn't survive the aftermath of his irresponsibility."
Up to this moment, Neda had put everything that was charming and captivating into her poetry. The bottom line was that she had nothing left but her antipathy, her principal, and her practical judgement.
In the early afternoon, when she opened her eyes from the depth of drunken sleep, she found herself alone in bed. For some strange reason she enjoyed being drunk; it was like a different world; nothing mattered. Mansour came in and saw her stretching in her wakefulness.
"There is no one in the world who wouldn't be happy to change place with you now!" His tone of voice sounded like a victorious man, a man who had won a chest game, a man, who had gone to a war and had returned in one piece and victor.
Neda, as always, quick minded, look at him. There was nothing but hatred in her eyes. She read in his face and speaking eyes that he wanted to have more of her again.
"There is no one whom I wouldn't change place with now!" Her answer was sharp, cutting, and bitter. She thought if he would disturb her feelings, she could influence his.
"Let's stop this nonsense. We're married now. Look at the sheet. You passed the test!"
Oh, how much she abhorred this man; "pass the test". As if she was taking an exam.
"So I did! how wonderful! You're very fond of giving these kind of vain speeches and advices, something you, yourself, need the most. How generous you're. You're very deep." Her tone of voice was very derisive. Anyone could tell that she considered him very shallow.
He left the room very disappointed. She stayed in bed. But before he departed the room, he stood next to bed, towering over her, with his provoking and inquisitive glance. It looked as though he wanted to ask or say something in an acceptable tone; but he continued his gaze without uttering a sound, without moving a muscle. Only in the very last moment without moving a limb, as if responding to some unheard hint, he frowned deeply and that scowl gave his dark mask of face an implausibly somber and intimidating expression. The luster of probing stare and hard contortion faded fast into a disengaged glassiness of his eyes before leaving the room.
To Be Continued
No comments:
Post a Comment