Mehri ran upstairs, where her husband and Sima's bedroom was. Both were sleeping. She banged at the door. They always locked the door from inside. Jalal opened the door. He had only his underwear on. He looked at Mehri through his foggy eyes, Puzzled.
"What is it?"
"It's Neda! Her water is broken! Get dressed. We must go to the hospital right now!"
In less than five minutes, everyone was awaken. All were getting dressed; but it was only Jalal and Mehri who were taking Neda to the hospital. Mehri had put a towel between Neda's legs and covered her with a blanket. Sohrab carried his sister to the car and very gently laid her in the back seat. In the last moment, Sima also joined them. Sohrab said that he would follow them with his own car.
Sima sat in front of the car; Mehri and Neda in the back. Neda was almost in her mother's arms.
"You can cry baby. It's okay." Mother spoke what she thought. Sima had turned half of her body to face Neda and Mehri. For the first time Sima's presence did not bother Mehri. There was no time for jelously. All her thoughts were on her daughter. Jalal, who was driving, every few seconds looked at the rare view mirror to see his first wife and his only daughter. He was shaken and upset. The expected event, had turned like an unexpected horror to him. He knew that soon he would be a grandfather and according to the law and the divorce agreement, he had to call Mansour so he would be in the hospital; and then when the baby would be born and would take his first birth on earth, he had to hand the baby to him right away. "Why did I agree to this? What have I done? What Have I done to my child?" He thought to himself. But he knew the law of the land sometimes was even hateful to men, like him. It was the same law that had allowed him to take a second wife and to ignore the first one! He felt ashamed of himself for the first time. All these things went back to his action of marrying a second wife.
Mehri also forgot that the baby belonged to Mansour. She kept saying:
"Sweet heart, it'll be okay! It'll be joy soon."
Neda revolted by her mother's comment. How could she talk about joy while she was dying. Her abhorrence was too strong to be called joy. It was a convulsion which the terrible strain of pain, now almost constant, made an ugly scene. Neda could not call it joy until she would be recovered of this pain and pressure; and she could breath easily.
When they were in the hospital, they saw Sohrab was already there. He had gotten there before them. The doctor was there, too, and getting ready to meet screaming Neda in the delivery room. The hospital staffs immediately put her on a gurney and rolled her to the delivery room. The pressure that the baby was causing her from inside , made the bed dirty with her going without being able to control herself. She could no longer stay silent or act normal. She let her cry and scream fill the hospital. They allowed Mehri, her mother, to stay with her in the delivery room. Jalal had already called Mansour reluctantly. After all he was the man of honor no matter how to interpret the word 'Honor'. In Half an hour Mansour and his wife Mitra were in the hospital.
To Be Continued
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