UNFULFILLED- Seven- (_)(_)The Consummation

Married life was not much different than being a girl at her parent's home. Neda's mother visited her almost everyday. Most of the time she brought them food. But even though their refrigerator were filled with home cooking of her mother, her parents expected them to go to their house almost every evening for dinner. After a month being married, Neda yet to cook a meal at her apartment; except the morning tea for their simple breakfast.

Mansour was meanwhile hired as a high school teacher and waiting for the end of the summer to begin his teaching career. He still worked for Jalal, now his father- in- law. Neda's days were filled with laziness, drowsiness, and lethargy. She had lost her touch for writing poetry temporarily; but she was not worried. It had happened before. This did not bother or impede on her as she recalled reading somewhere that even the greatest artists like writers, musicians, painters of the world sometimes for a short or even long period of time would lose their touch for their arts. That thought made her not to be worried. She knew as long as she had a soul of a poet, which was quick to perceive, the juices would flow if not now, most certainly later.

Meanwhile in these lazy days of adjustment, she thought a lot. One thing she contemplated more than anything else was eternity. She had always imagined that infinities was a notion hard to understand, an immense, unbelievable thing. Now, in these lethargic days, she thought why should eternity be so boundless, unbelievable, or inevitable? She searched around her little home, which she liked it very much. She looked inside her small kitchen, watched through the window to the apartments across the parking lot. They were all old and worn out. Soot had covered their roof tops and walls. Was what she observed eternity? Was that all inside the infinities? She was puzzled by the way the concept of forever invaded her mind!

One thing was very clear from the very first day of this union; they had nothing in common, nothing whats so ever! Everything that Mansour was accustomed to, Neda despised; everything she did, he loathed. But they did not talk about the things they did not like about the other. They acted more like an old married couple. There was no passion. Intimacy was what and when Mansour wanted and Neda hated. Each time, she had to drink wine to be able to go through it. It was the effect of wine, like the very first time, that made her to tolerate it. But even by getting drunk, she always closed her eyes and remained tense with tight muscles until it was over. Their lives were like a volcano ready to be erupted any minute.

The road they had taken would not and could not take them to the same destination. The days that he worked at Neda's father's business was a bliss for her. She had the apartment all to herself. She did not have to share it with this man, whom she did not hate but she did not like either. She could not wait for the school year to begin for two reasons. First Mansour would begin his teaching job and second she would go to evening school for her last year of high school. She bought all the books which were required for her school and began studying even though the schools were not open yet. She was anxious to go back to school even though it was not the regular school, but a night school for the girls who were married.

One afternoon when Mansour returned home from work, he found her studying. Her books covered their small dining table. Without saying a word, he threw himself on the sofa, clasped his hands behind his neck and stayed silent for a long time. Neda noticed his unspoken and unpleasant attitude even more distressing than ever. She finally broke the silence:

"What's the matter? Are you upset or something?"

He sat vacant and hesitant, forced a smile, and suddenly exploded:

"Why can't you be normal? Why don't you cook? Why are your books all over the table? Why do you need education?" He was pale and gloomy while barraging these hateful words to his wife.

To Be Continued

UNFULFILLED- Seven-****** The Consummation

"Let's go through it." Neda kept saying to herself. She felt things that she had never known before. She was warm, giddy, dizzy, and also laughing uncontrollably. There was no romance; but she was relaxed. She had no choice, being so drunk. There was no talking of love or mood. What he did to her in her drunken state felt good to her.

The two glasses of wine that Neda had drunk very fast, made her a different person, a submissive young girl who was drunk and nude, making love to a man, whom she did not love. Her zest for life, independence, and fight had left her.

They finally fell asleep at eight in the morning. She slept knowing in her darkness state that she was not a virgin anymore. The blood of her virginity that aunt Zari was supposed to carry on a white, embodied handkerchief to her parents' house and to show it to her and Mansour's mother, were all smeared on the white sheet of their wedding bed. The marriage was consummated and sealed. At the time that he took his virginity, she felt a prick. The feeling that only a few hours earlier had seemed dead, rekindled again and arose and took possession of her heart. Right there and then, she decided to respect this man, her husband. He did not want anything that lawfully and religiously was not his. She resolved in her mind that respect was invented to bury the empty place where love used to be. Then she asked herself, in her silent speech:

"Neda, tell me, what you've done. I prefer to know the arduous truth than fantasize it. Now you have become like your mother. And like your father, Mansour also would outlive his love, if there is any; but he doesn't survive the aftermath of his irresponsibility."

Up to this moment, Neda had put everything that was charming and captivating into her poetry. The bottom line was that she had nothing left but her antipathy, her principal, and her practical judgement.

In the early afternoon, when she opened her eyes from the depth of drunken sleep, she found herself alone in bed. For some strange reason she enjoyed being drunk; it was like a different world; nothing mattered. Mansour came in and saw her stretching in her wakefulness.

"There is no one in the world who wouldn't be happy to change place with you now!" His tone of voice sounded like a victorious man, a man who had won a chest game, a man, who had gone to a war and had returned in one piece and victor.

Neda, as always, quick minded, look at him. There was nothing but hatred in her eyes. She read in his face and speaking eyes that he wanted to have more of her again.

"There is no one whom I wouldn't change place with now!" Her answer was sharp, cutting, and bitter. She thought if he would disturb her feelings, she could influence his.

"Let's stop this nonsense. We're married now. Look at the sheet. You passed the test!"

Oh, how much she abhorred this man; "pass the test". As if she was taking an exam.

"So I did! how wonderful! You're very fond of giving these kind of vain speeches and advices, something you, yourself, need the most. How generous you're. You're very deep." Her tone of voice was very derisive. Anyone could tell that she considered him very shallow.

He left the room very disappointed. She stayed in bed. But before he departed the room, he stood next to bed, towering over her, with his provoking and inquisitive glance. It looked as though he wanted to ask or say something in an acceptable tone; but he continued his gaze without uttering a sound, without moving a muscle. Only in the very last moment without moving a limb, as if responding to some unheard hint, he frowned deeply and that scowl gave his dark mask of face an implausibly somber and intimidating expression. The luster of probing stare and hard contortion faded fast into a disengaged glassiness of his eyes before leaving the room.

To Be Continued

UNFULFILLED- Seven-{_}{_} The Consummation

Inside their one bedroom apartment with a very small living room and a combined kitchen and dining area, Neda found Mansour sitting on the sofa. Her father had bought all the furniture for each room of the apartment for them. She looked at him. It seemed as though he was dozing. It was five in the morning. It was another day. They did not know what to say to each other or how to act. They became two strangers all of the sudden, that they had married only the day before. Neda went directly to the bedroom without saying a word to him. She changed, but not to the white silk, lacy night gown her mother had picked for this first and special occasion. She just put on her night gown of her girlhood, the pink, cotton, long one which was faded for so many washes. She laid down on bed, covered herself with the blanket in that hot May morning and closed her eyes but not before looking at the clock. It said five thirty. She was physically and emotionally tired. She wanted to fall asleep and go to dream world without interruption. But she heard that he came into the room. She did not open her eyes, but she heard him changing clothes, brushing his teeth. "Oh, he'll come to bed any minute! What will I do?" The bed moved. He was there. Lights went off. She felt his body brushed hers. She trembled. Her aunt had explained to her what the wedding night would be like! She had to go through it! If only her shaking would stop for a minute!

Mansour gently turned her over to face him. He put his hand under her neck and pulled her closer to himself. He slowly used her free hand and touched her in places that she had never been touched. She shivered more. Sweat covered her body. She both were shivering and sweating. He suddenly sat on the bed and put the light on.

"What is the matter with you? Why did you marry me if you hate me this much?"

Why did she? But she did not hate him. She hated the situation.

"You really feel heart broken for this, don't you?" He said it with so much anger in his voice that she thought he was going to burst.

Neda opened her eyes. He had nothing on. She almost felt sorry for him.

"You just want to blame everyone, like your brother said, for this; but you're the one needs to be blamed. No one forced you to marry me!"

Neda's large brown eyes were gazed to the streak of light coming from the night stand. She was crushed to discover that she was a mere slave of her feelings. At that moment, she did not know anything but her slavery. All her judgement and ingenuity were dispersed in convulsion and bursts of confusion and desperation. The image of her rejection and abandonment, altering her in a way that instead of renouncing what it was, she thought that she should accept this hard condition as a duty.

"I don't hate you Mansour." She murmured. "I don't know what I feel!"

"I have a bottle of wine. I brought it here yesterday. Let me give you some. It relaxes you."

Neda thought if wine would help her to go through it, she would try it even though she had never drunk it before in her life.

"I've never had wine!"

"I know. But it is different now."

He put his pants on, but stayed shirtless. They both went to the living room. He brought the wine he had chilled in the refrigerator with two glasses. They were regular glasses. They did not yet had wine glasses. After opening the bottle, he poured the red wine into the glasses. He raised his and told her.

"Look at the color of it; look at it in the light. It is like the color of red grape. See how smooth it is. That is what you call good wine."

Neda raised her glass and looked at it the same way as he had done. She loved that color. She thought that she should buy a dress that color. The first sip burned her throat; however, she liked the act of drinking. That would make her look older and like grown ups. That feeling at her age gave her the courage to ask for more. She drank fast. He asked her not to do that. But she drank more and fast. He again told her that wine needed to be drunk slow. The regular glasses they were using were twice the size of a wine glass. She finished her two glasses fast and without thinking. He was still on his first one.

To Be Continued

UNFULFILLED- Seven-~`~` The Consummation

"You know Neda, you can count on me for anything and everything. Any time you need something..."Sohrab said while frowning slightly and mourning deeply.

"I hope that would not be necessary." Mansour began with an injured pride. "Now she has me..." He finished his little nonsense of the speech.

Sohrab suddenly stopped the car in the middle of the road. Anger flashed from his eyes. He put his arm on the passenger seat, faced Mansour with his blazing eyes. Neda assumed that he was going to strike her husband.

"Listen, her marriage to you wasn't my idea. No one consulted me. I know that everyone thinks that it was her own choice, but I believe and I know it was a scam and manipulation between you and my father, yes, my father. Yes, my father, I said it. Because he had degraded himself, because he doesn't care anymore, and because he wanted to get rid of Neda since he knew she was the only one that reminded him of his bad conduct. So you better treat her right or you must face me." Sohrab's voice trembled with his high emotions.

Neda had no idea that how much her brother loved her and cared for her. She had been suspicious of Mansour's sudden visits to their home after her father's second marriage. Her mother had told her the same thing, too; but now she understood that she, her mother, Maryam were not alone in the mistrust of her father. However it felt good to see that her brother and her cousin, Maryam, at least understood her.

After Sohrab's long ultimatum, Mansour down cast his eyes. He was in rage but he knew that it was not the right time to say anything. In a minute or two, they would reach the apartment and everything would be under his control, the way it should be. However, a feeling of aversion filled his heart and he twisted in pain. This sensation of repulsion was so apparent that he did not know he could escape it. But for now, he had to swallow his pride, disgust, and dislike for another minute or two. He needed just not to say anything; and he did precisely that.

Sohrab began driving again. Soon they were in front of the apartment which Jalal, Neda's father, had gotten for the bride and groom with six months rent paid ahead of time. They all got out of the car. Neda was home, but was she?

"Do you want to come in, Sohrab?" She asked her brother.

Sohrab nodded his head for no. He carried his sister's bag inside and left it in the hallway. Mansour was already inside. Sohrab hugged Neda. She almost cried. Mansour called her.

"Come in inside!" But she stayed outside to see her brother drive away. As his car disappeared, Ned felt that the world had fallen upon her. She was afraid to walk inside, even though she had been inside the apartment many times before. She had arranged the furniture with Maryam's help only a week before.

She looked like a ghost, a lost soul, heedless of everything, unconscious of her surroundings. Bits and pieces of thoughts rushed in, but her heart could not put those pieces together and make them understandable. She just could not contemplate on a single idea or mental state although she was trying very hard. All she could get hold of was that she had thrown away everything, had abjured entirety. She called herself at that moment a woman without root.

Neda wished she was normal in the sense that everyone told her that she did not act like other girls her age. She wished that her superior mind suddenly would become inferior. But since none was possible, she just decided to go along and wait, wait... until a day that she should be able to do something; when she would have the power to change not only herself but people around her.

To Be Continued

UNFULFILLED- Seven- The Consummation

"Why people have to surrender to the things that offend their soul and their existence? Why can't they listen to the beating of their hearts when disagreeable things confront and threaten them? Why isn't there any air for healthy breathing around when one gasps for just a simple life saver breath? And why is out in open just like a closed room without a window?"

These were Neda's thoughts when Sohrab, her brother drove her and Mansour to their new home almost at the crack of dawn. She, in the back seat of the car, lowered the window and began breathing eagerly the stinky stench of the polluted air. Her head was throbbing with pain. She felt dizzy, yet strangely she sensed an uncommon energy inside her that flickered from her burning eyes and showed itself in her pale face. She did not know what that passion was, where it came from; but whatever it was and where ever it came from, it made her feel a little better about herself. Joy and sorrow, fondness and elation followed each other suddenly like the despondency of a paranoid as they had come to her sight.

They were all silent. Sohrab was aware that something was not right. The two people in his car did not act like a bride and a groom. They behaved more like an old couple on their fiftieth anniversary than a newly wed. He did not think by saying a word he would help the situation. Looking in the rare view mirror, he saw his little sister's shadow in the darkness of the car. He could tell without seeing her that her eyes were burning and her face was pale. He remembered that he had argued with their father about his sister's marriage to this man, twenty years older than her. He conjured up that he had told his father that Neda deserved better and she was too smart to become a housewife.

"She needs to finish her education, to achieve her goals. She'll become a famous poetess if you let her!"

He recalled how his father's response had filled him with anger and some what horrible feeling. He had noticed the extreme indifference in his father.

"Mansour is a good man. I know him for a long time. Neda can't do any better than him!"

He thought back to how disturbed he had become to hear his father's description of his sister; that she could not do any better than Mansour.

"It seems to me that you want to get rid of your own daughter, dad! Is that it? Does she dishearten you for what you've done to our mother?"

He pondered how upset he had made his father by saying the truth. Sohrab, like Maryam, believed that their father wanted to get rid of Neda so he could have a peaceful life with his second wife; while it was their mother's money, his first wife, that had made him what he was.

Sohrab liked Mansour as a friend. He knew that Mansour was not an evil person. But he always wondered why a man his age had not settled down either in any particular career or in his personal life. His heart suddenly sank, looking at the shadow of his sister in the back seat. He imagined terrible things would happen to her living with this man. He could not stay silent anymore:

"Are you okay little sis back there?" This was the way he always called Neda. It was like an expression of endearment. There was so much affection in the words "little sis", especially the way he said it.

Neda suddenly was awed by hearing a sound besides her heart beats. She laid her hand on her brother's shoulder.

"I'm fine. Why do you ask?"

"I don't know! You just don't look or act like yourself anymore!"

"So he had noticed!" Neda thought. At least someone had envisioned that she was not acting like her old self. But before she was able to answer her brother, Mansour said:

"You know it's normal not to be yourself on your wedding day. It almost feels scary."

Sohrab glanced at Mansour. He liked him but not enough to see him as his brother- in- law. While driving, he could hear Neda's thought and Mansour's outrage. He was following their conversation even though they were not talking. Sohrab, now and always admired his sister, her intellect, her cultivated mind at such a young age; with her frankness, honesty, and candor. He felt that darkness had fallen upon her and therefore him. Everything looked black and because of this gloom he believed that the only thing that could guide him through this obscurity was to visit his sister everyday. He came to conclusion that he should do this one thing very seriously, and clutched and clung to it without any hesitation. Then he tried to listen to Mansour's thoughts, sitting next to him in front of the car. His face suddenly assumed the solemn immobility of a dead; and that contortion did not change through the rest of the drive to apartment. But he needed to say something so both the bride and the groom would know his thoughts.

To Be Continued

UNFULFILLED- Six- @@@ The Complete Mate

Neda's eyes were fixed on sky. Her heart beat was slowing down. Her tears were dried out. She did not know anything anymore.

"This road I've chosen, as you put it, leads to nothing." She said.

"This road you've taken is long and it ought to lead to something." Maryam answered.

Nothing was good anymore; even Maryam's soothing words that used to relax her, now were like a bitter reality check that agitated Neda even more. How could anything be good to her while she knew that she, herself, deliberately had thrown her life away? On the other hand what Maryam had just told her about her parents and their shame of finding out about the breakage of a marriage before its beginning, startled her. She finally knew that she had to be Mansour's wife.

"You know, we human beings, face so many dissatisfaction and agony in a single day." Neda began almost in a verge of tears again.

"We hold back our disgust, we hide our desire, we even smile and pretend the opposite of what we feel with our pale and unsmiling faces; and when someone asks us: 'what is the mater?', we just say: 'oh, nothing, everything is fine!' Look at my poor mother. She does all these all days and pretends what she truly is not. Perhaps it's our pride that makes us to experience pain so we don't bring pain on others; and that is what I intend to do, hurt myself not others; because I'm proud."

Neda put her hands behind her neck and brought her knees down on the ground and stretched herself to the extent that she looked like lying down.

"I couldn't say it any better my sweet Neda!" Maryam responded.

"But I have one condition!" Neda said after a long pause.

"What is it?" Maryam asked.

"I know I've asked you to do many things for me. I hope this is the last time. But this one is the most important to me. I want you to persuade my mother that aunt Zari, your mom, would not go with us tonight to our place. This custom is so disgraceful to women. One more thing, I want to be alone for a little while in my room here."

"Okay! I talk to your mom. I promise that I convince her not to send my mom with you for your wedding night custom. I agree with you hundred percent. This is a disgusting custom, so degrading for women! But why do you want to be alone? I hope you don't have any crazy idea in your mind! It's two in the morning, very late."

Maryam's promise brightened Neda's heart a little. But her suspicion that she might harm herself, or run away, was unfounded.

"Don't be frightened, Maryam. I'm not brave enough to take my life. Besides by doing that, I harm others more. Remember I am proud. I hurt myself by living and don't afflict others by dying. I just want to write my last poem of girlhood before going to my womanhood home."

They both went inside, Neda to her room, and Maryam to the kitchen where all the women were. She took a glimpse at Mansour sitting in the living room with Neda's brother. He looked at her with his questioning eyes and she answered him with her eyes and hands that everything was fine.

In her room, Neda first took the wedding gown off. She removed all the pins off her hair, and went to the bathroom to take a shower. It took her a long time to shampoo her hair and get all the fuzz out of it. Her hair was all tangled and was very difficult to smooth them out. Then she wrapped herself in a towel and went to her room. She put a simple dress on. She sat on her bed, touched it, watched through the window into the dark of night. She glanced at everything that soon she would abandon. Most of her clothes and personal things were already taken to her new home. After inspecting everything that belonged to her short life of girlhood, she finally sat behind her desk and wrote a poem. The love of poetry was all she had left. She realized that two people could never be whole; but poetry was her friend. When she read or wrote poetry, she knew that she could talk freely. Poetry was her complete mate. It was a window that connected her to life. She said to others: "Poems are like a window to me that every time I look through it, it opens by itself for me." She was not searching for something in her poems, yet she found herself in her poems. Poetry had gradually become something serious to her. Now she found the answer to her own life in poetry. Poems were her complete mate. Everything else was pretension.

"I can remain calm.

For long hours I can be numb.

With my cold, frozen hand,

I can pull the drapes where I stand,

To see the torrent of rain in that frame.

To see the persistent of a child in his game.

To see a car races in empty street;

And splashes water on that child's feet.

I can loudly scream;

With a voice foreign, untruthful and extreme;

And say: 'I love my dream, I love my dream.'

With cleverness I can despise

Every and each surprise.

In an empty picture frame,

I can place a photo of lost dream,

Or anyone I can blame.

With each unwelcoming hand shake,

I can scream for no reason and fake;

That how very lucky each morning I wake."

To Be Continued

UNFULFILLED- Six- ~`~` The Complete Mate

Maryam did not answer him. The hatred between them was natural. She was also suspicious that Jalal, Neda's father, had planned all theses to get rid of his daughter, the only one person who made him uneasy about his second marriage. Maryam had no proof, yet she knew it was true.

She ran outside to the yard without saying another word to Mansour or looking at him. The workers were still cleaning the yard and the rooms. All guests were gone except a few close family members. Neda was still sitting on the bench in the dark with her knees drawn into her chest. The only light there was just the regular light at the top of the entrance door to the building. Where Neda was sitting was compete darkness. A few men were clearing up the rented tables and chairs and stacking them and putting them in a corner for the truck to come tomorrow and take them. Maryam looked and thought about what were left of a very fancy and expensive wedding!

She quietly sat next to Neda. They did not speak for a while. Each was engrossed in her own thought. Then it was Neda, who first began. She was not crying anymore. It seemed as though her tears were dried out.

"I can't continue. My heart has to struggle to beat!"

Maryam put her hand over hers and gently massaged it; and then she hugged her. Their hugs were sweet and gentle. it was something they both needed. Maryam was looking for words which not only be wise, but also be soothing. She knew that she can not lecture her cousin even though Neda was younger and less experienced. One of the traits in their families were stubbornness- regular and phony talk would do none of them good. She should say things like a very sincere cousin and friend she was, not like a mother or an aunt. They were friends that knew many things about each other, not everything.

"Listen honey, we see our lives from only our point of view. We don't consider the other people's feeling. We..."

Neda suddenly cut her off:

"Why you say we while you're only talking about me?"

"Because I'm like you..."Maryam said with a pale face that was invisible to Neda in the dark of night.

"One day I tell you what truly happened on my wedding day, but not now. That is why I am saying we. But if you prefer I just say you. When you consider only your point of view, you become a weak person because only feeble people think about themselves and not others. I am like you; and look at me, I am the one that advising you. But think about your poor parents, especially your mother. What is going to happen to them if they find out? Then how would you feel? Unfortunately sometimes we must make sacrifices in life. I've done my share; now it's your turn.

"How do I feel?" Neda quizzed her cousin.

"I'm not sure. But I know you don't feel good. I know you want everything turns to the way they were before. I know you don't want to be married! I agree with all of them, yet you have left yourself no choice."

Neda listened earnestly. Her cousin described her state of mind so well and so correct that she was amazed. No wonder that she liked Maryam.

"You're refusing what you've accepted." Maryam began. "Don't refuse only for the sake of rejecting. You think by denying, you gain power. But what you don't know is that going through it, is also a form of dominion. You can be stalwart by tolerating this life that you've chosen without anyone influencing you. You can keep your personality. Mansour can not change you and make a slave out of you; or as you say turn you to a housewife, not if you allow it." Maryam knew that at this point she was not sure of what she was saying. Earlier she had come to the conclusion that Neda was set up by her father.

To Be Continued