"You had as well killed me rather than making me married with such a deceitful act! What kind of father are you?'" Neda left the room and closed the door behind her with force.
The feeling she lastly returned to after her father's attitude towards her was so critical that Maryam's offer for living together came to her mind immediately. She dreaded the influence and power of her father over her up to that moment. That authority so far had taken away her sense of freedom. There was something so militant, so persecutional, and so restricted in the way her father talked and presented himself that reinforced in her mind the plan she had made with her cousin, Maryam. Although that plan looked not doable on the surface but she knew when one force became two or maybe even three if they could involve Sohrab in it, then it would become much more powerful. In that case her father would feel the punches of three not one.
She was tired of the imprisonment. She wanted to escape from her body cage and the cage that her father's home brought her. She wanted to fly out to some glorious world that she had seen in her dreams and to be always there and no where else. She wished that she could see that world not in dreams or through her tears. She did not want to see that world through the iron walls of her broken heart. She wanted that world to be real, she in it and with it.
When Mansour came that evening, Neda was already in the room, sitting on a chair with her head up. She was trying to look and act strong. Sohrab also came in shortly after because Neda had asked him. The father, the guilty one, who appeared very dissatisfied with his children being in the room, sitting side by side and trying not to miss anything, sat by himself at the top of the room, smoking his pipe. He was obviously very upset not because of the conversation he would have with Mansour, but because both his children had disobeyed him and they were present.
No tea was served as it was the custom. Jalal did not want to offer this man anything. He was not sure what kind of manner he would choose with him! Would he be harsh, gentle, respectful, or indifferent?
"I understand that you're already planning your second marriage!" Jalal said in a sarcastic way.
Mansour reflected for a moment.
"Yes, what do you want me to do? Ours was a mistake and you know it. Your daughter didn't want me. You criticize me for arranging my second marriage, but you, yourself, have two wives. I won't marry until I'm divorced!" When he said this, he took a glimpse at Neda. It was clear that he had prepared himself to answer Jalal.
"I gave you my lovely daughter and you vomited on her." Jalal's tone of voice was harsh. "You had the best woman in the world and you dumped her because of your ugly pride. You think you're important, but your importance is a terrible, twisted one..." Jalal took a glance at Neda when he said this. Her head was bent on her chest.
"I didn't come here to fight. If your daughter is lovely, why did you try to get rid of her? Why don't you ask her? She is the one that doesn't want me!"
"You didn't give her a chance. She is just a child!" Jalal brought his hand on the table with force.
"If she is a child, why did you let her to marry me?" Mansour retorted. Jalal had nothing to say.
Sohrab felt that he needed to come to his father's defense.
"Let's stop all of these! I don't want my sister to be married to this worthless man anyway."
Mansour rose from his chair. It seemed that he was ready to fight. He was offended. Sohrab got up, too. Everything happened so fast that Jalal or Neda could not prevent it. She was frozen with horror. Sohrab's dark eyes were filled with tears confronting this man. His punch landed on Mansour's face and brought him to his knees. A stream of blood began running from his nose. He leaped towards Sohrab, only to lose his balance and fall again.
Jalal came between the two fighting men and made them to stop. He told his son to stop his violent behavior. Mansour went to the bathroom to wash out the blood from his face. When he returned, things were calm. Then Jalal said:
"Her love for you was real. All you needed to do to nourish it. In your pettiness, you don't have the right to have this gift. You can never live in peace because you can not and have not ever looked at life the way you should. You crush everything with your stinking pride!"
"If you keep insulting me, I leave right now and nothing would be solved." Mansour said with a wave of his hand. Neda shuddered. Her face became paler; however, she buttered out:
"Dad, he is right. Stop arguing!"
When everyone was finally calm, they began talking about the terms of the divorce. It seemed that Mansour did not care one way or the other who would have the baby. But since Neda stayed silent and did not say a word about the baby, it was agreed that Mansour and his new wife would have the baby the minute it was born. No one objected it. Neda did not know her feeling for the baby. She did not know what would it be like when the baby was born. She did not know at the time that she had no chance of keeping the baby anyway. She did not know what she agreed to would have a great affect on her for the rest of her life! No body objected the arrangement. At the moment, she did not want the baby, she wanted freedom. She did not know when the baby would be born, her whole being would change and she would be a different person.
In the next two week, father was busy with the divorce arrangement and when it was finally over, she felt more relaxed than ever. However she thought that she could never be the same person. life to her was like a puzzle, like a long road that stretched endlessly without any exit or side roads, like her dreams.
That evening she remembered her going to the religious court with her father that afternoon to sign the divorce paper. They had arranged the situation in a way that they did not have to face Mansour in the court. He had signed earlier.
She reflected the signing, Only less than eight months ago, she had signed to marry. Now she was singing to end it. She imagined the parting with Mansour was more like the beginning of a new life than ending of a marriage.
She thought all that happened to her and compared them with nature which was never the same. That evening she wrote:
"Pathways covered with winter frost;
Roads led to summer lust;
Alleys filled by spring gust;
Dry leaves of autumn I trust.
There I closed my doleful eyes;
From white winter's skies.
There I turned my pale face,
From red summer's disgrace.
There I walked away with shaky knees,
From green spring trees.
There I breathed colorful fall;
Those dry leaves, breaking with brawl.
Winter frost was always gray.
Summer lust was only a play.
Spring gust made trees to sway.
Autumn trust became my only pathway."
To Be Continued
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