UNFULFILLED- Seven- {{{{{{ The Consummation

Neda sank into a deep thought. There was a mist before her eyes. When she began talking, she used all her energy to confront this man, her husband.

"You asked so many whys that made me so dizzy! I am normal, but not your kind of normal. I can't cook because I don't know how and no one has ever taught me. My books are all over the table because soon I'm going back to school to finish my high school; and I want to be prepared. Is there any more whys that I must answer!"

"You don't need to go back to school. I won't allow it."

Neda suddenly felt an oppression that almost took her breath away. The book that was under her hand, all of the sudden, flew to the other side of the room. It missed Mansour by only half meter. It landed face down on the floor. Her rage was violent. His silence was painful.

"I go back to school whether you like it or not. You'd agreed to it. You promised my father that I would go to school to finish my high school. You can't stop me now!" She was hysterical and crying. Tears rushed down her face.

"This is no good, no good!" She kept repeating it.

"What is no good?" He tried to contain her anger.

"This road that we've taken," She began as impassioned as possible. "I know it is the same road for both of us; but it is no good, no good. It won't take me anywhere. No, no. I'm certain; it won't take me anywhere. It'll become a different path for us... No good, no..."

She looked at him, a little calmer, and understood nothing from his face, from what it was under that black mask. She only knew that he was extremely unhappy as she, herself was terribly troubled.

Marriage was not what each of them had thought would be. He had thought by marrying, she would be empathetic to him; and he would be the most special to her even more so than what he believed himself most likely to be. She had thought by marrying, she would have more freedom and she would be able to explore the world more freely. Disagreement in the third month of their marriage was a word best described their feeling but not their action.

They both felt no knowledge in this world could help them in this crises when all had come to standstill, while both of them imagined the unhappy other was knocked down by ever digressing grief and deviation for her, aberration for him and finding no true consolation that life was unchangeable. Neither one could alter what had taken place. They could not reverse things.

The unalterable fact was that both of them, who had been acquainted only by a brief, abstract weeks of engagement, seemed in the constancy of a married life that was revealed to them as something wonderful would not tolerate this clash of differences. What was wonderful for her was terrible to him; what was duty to him, was oppression to her. And such was the capacity of their thoughts and lives. The concept of her fresh feelings had never been a stimulation for him, and in general these kind of freshness had long been withered in him to a kind of rigid arrangement, a spiritless of pressuring his knowledge from decay.

Their very first serious argument caused that Mansour to leave home angrily. Neda was certain that he would return because he had no other place. However that momentary quietude suddenly brought the shade of quality that had escaped her soul for the last three months to write poetry. Now again, she was quick to feel, a feeling that was the most precious on her emotion and soul, the soul of a poet; which she was not aware yet that she was one with its understanding that passed at once into a deep and profound flashes of creation; which in return exhibited as a new thought. Her first poem of her married life.

"Never, ever more, I can ignore

That poems that I write, make me able with delight

To say that I am here, or I was dear;

That I can endure, because I am mature.

My poems are my bridge to star.

I write them so I can invite the endless night;

So I can speak to days and weak;

So I can make nights to wake;

So I can blame darkness with shame;

So I can erase lines from my face;

So I can desire a candle with fire;

So I can grow in my room a window;

So in my book I can look;

To happy crowd through my dark cloud."

To Be Continued