UNFULFILLED- Eighteen-☻☻☻☻ The Price

Neda tried to live her life; but she knew deep down that she was also affected by her father's last act against her and Sohrab. Why did he have to complain about them in his will? Wasn't just cutting them off from his belongings enough? She remembered his last look at the house, before they had taken him to the hospital, before he had disappeared in the world of nothingness! Did she see regret in his eyes when he looked at her and put his hands on her shoulders when she was massaging her feet in the warm water? Did she see him asking for forgiveness? Was she imagining that look? She finally made herself to believe that the look was for real; that her father had asked both Sohrab and her for grace and compassion at the end, when he was still aware, and again in the hospital before he died. What if he was not sick, he was his own powerful, demanding self, and he saw that kind of love from his first two children, who had come to his rescue, who had come to give him love, and passion, would he then change that despicable document of the will and took out the part that he had muddied his children!

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"They were in love with morning star,

In love with rainy day, so far,

In love with wandering clouds,

In love with ambiguous crowds.

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The dead- dying- and living lay;

They were dear to someone someday;

They've been daring, feeble, and brave.

Their face would be covered by dust of grave.

They wear a smile on their pale faces-

The hesitant shadow of their childhood graces."

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Every morning Neda wrapped herself in her favorite shawl that now was old, faded, and frayed, and walked the dog. It did not matter how the weather was. That shawl had become part of her womanhood, a reminder of her childhood and teenage years. The cat, Ziba, followed them where ever they went but always from far, waiting, listening, ready for disappearing. He had been and was aloof and standoffish. Neda had to beg him, chase him until he would come to her. The only time that he showed love to Neda on his own, was when he wanted something. Neda knew exactly what he wanted; was it food or was it about his ears, since he always had ear problems. He never liked people that he did not know. His trust to human being was non existence. Neda wished that she could be like her cat. She remembered why she named him Ziba even though the cat was a boy. It was mostly her nephew's suggestion and it was because he was the most beautiful cat that any of them had seen. His soft fur, milky color body, his nose, ears, and around his eyes the color of flame, a sign of Siamese cats, that supposedly are the second most intelligent domestic cat, and those bluest color eyes made everyone on their path to say something about his beauty. The dog's beauty was not any less than the cat, but her demands increased daily. She stayed Doggy, as Aria had called her first.

To Be Continued