Married life was not much different than being a girl at her parent's home. Neda's mother visited her almost everyday. Most of the time she brought them food. But even though their refrigerator were filled with home cooking of her mother, her parents expected them to go to their house almost every evening for dinner. After a month being married, Neda yet to cook a meal at her apartment; except the morning tea for their simple breakfast.
Mansour was meanwhile hired as a high school teacher and waiting for the end of the summer to begin his teaching career. He still worked for Jalal, now his father- in- law. Neda's days were filled with laziness, drowsiness, and lethargy. She had lost her touch for writing poetry temporarily; but she was not worried. It had happened before. This did not bother or impede on her as she recalled reading somewhere that even the greatest artists like writers, musicians, painters of the world sometimes for a short or even long period of time would lose their touch for their arts. That thought made her not to be worried. She knew as long as she had a soul of a poet, which was quick to perceive, the juices would flow if not now, most certainly later.
Meanwhile in these lazy days of adjustment, she thought a lot. One thing she contemplated more than anything else was eternity. She had always imagined that infinities was a notion hard to understand, an immense, unbelievable thing. Now, in these lethargic days, she thought why should eternity be so boundless, unbelievable, or inevitable? She searched around her little home, which she liked it very much. She looked inside her small kitchen, watched through the window to the apartments across the parking lot. They were all old and worn out. Soot had covered their roof tops and walls. Was what she observed eternity? Was that all inside the infinities? She was puzzled by the way the concept of forever invaded her mind!
One thing was very clear from the very first day of this union; they had nothing in common, nothing whats so ever! Everything that Mansour was accustomed to, Neda despised; everything she did, he loathed. But they did not talk about the things they did not like about the other. They acted more like an old married couple. There was no passion. Intimacy was what and when Mansour wanted and Neda hated. Each time, she had to drink wine to be able to go through it. It was the effect of wine, like the very first time, that made her to tolerate it. But even by getting drunk, she always closed her eyes and remained tense with tight muscles until it was over. Their lives were like a volcano ready to be erupted any minute.
The road they had taken would not and could not take them to the same destination. The days that he worked at Neda's father's business was a bliss for her. She had the apartment all to herself. She did not have to share it with this man, whom she did not hate but she did not like either. She could not wait for the school year to begin for two reasons. First Mansour would begin his teaching job and second she would go to evening school for her last year of high school. She bought all the books which were required for her school and began studying even though the schools were not open yet. She was anxious to go back to school even though it was not the regular school, but a night school for the girls who were married.
One afternoon when Mansour returned home from work, he found her studying. Her books covered their small dining table. Without saying a word, he threw himself on the sofa, clasped his hands behind his neck and stayed silent for a long time. Neda noticed his unspoken and unpleasant attitude even more distressing than ever. She finally broke the silence:
"What's the matter? Are you upset or something?"
He sat vacant and hesitant, forced a smile, and suddenly exploded:
"Why can't you be normal? Why don't you cook? Why are your books all over the table? Why do you need education?" He was pale and gloomy while barraging these hateful words to his wife.
To Be Continued
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