One evening when everyone was ready to leave, as usual, they stood by the door for some more talk. Their good byes always lasted a long time. They talked and talked while they already had said their good byes numerous times. Sohrab and Maryam were talking about that they might want to have a baby, being in their late twenties and all. Kasra was interrupting them to say things to Neda about what he had forgotten earlier concerning her last book. They stood half inside, half outside of the door. They had already said their farewells so many times. Finally Neda stood in the middle of the door and pushed them all outside!
"Go, go! We all have work to do tomorrow. It's one in the morning." She laughed, moving her hands, pushing the other three to the stairs. Finally they all hugged again and said good bye again. When Neda hugged kasra again, as she had always done, He bowed and kissed her hand. They all looked at him surprisingly and laughed at his odd act. Neda practically pushed them towards the stairs and closed the door.
She lit a candle and a cigarette at the same time and went to her room. Kasra was absolutely noting to her, except only just a good friend and editor; yet his presence, his manner, the warmth of his glances and above all the touch of his lips on her hand, just a moment ago aroused her like a numbing person in the desperate search of a drug to get her fix. He always kept her indoors. She was scatter- minded in her writings as she was in her living. Kasra kept her organized in both.
A sudden hot passion and tenderness for him filled her heart. Was this a momentary and passing desire or something long lasting that would interfere with her writings?
Neda considered Kasra a common man. In his company, the world was beautiful and direct. But when he was not around, no one remembered him. For the first time, nevertheless, she felt his influence on her. She did not like it, but she liked it.
Autumn approached in Tehran, breaking up the green dreariness of summer; touching the trees with brown shimmer of mist. The plain trees with reddish brown, the oak trees with gold! On the height of Alborz Mountain, where Neda had gotten into habit of going there by herself, the black pines witnessed the change without changing themselves. The sound of hush on the mountain top was seductive. It never ceased; it whispered, then it cried out, it buzzed, then it invited the souls like hers to wander in its abyss of loneliness! The cheerless lowering sky, sometimes she felt she could reach it, which for some unknown reason had depressed her a few hours before, now seemed exhilarating and stimulating her nerves and gave her ideas that would come in bits and pieces. She sat on a cold rock and took out her notebook from her backpack and wrote her thought.
At home she sat on a chair that she had recently bought, a luxury chair with high back, made of leather, with a foot stole which was part of it so she could put her feet on it. What an indulgence! She spread her arms which suggested a woman in command, the one, who would rule, who would watch others, and one who was lonely herself.
She thought about all her achievements, about the money she had made without any one's help. She contemplated the attitude and the culture that considered women like her, inferior to men. That culture believed that women were different than men not in the sense of anatomy, but in the sense of their intellect, and brain. They thought that women's mission mission was not to aquair themselves but to inspire their men to obtain. She was not like those women. She had broken all the rules. She did not care what people said about her. She knew that none was true and that was enough for her.
To Be Continued
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