UNFULFILLED- Five<><>The Wedding

They had decorated the garden for reception. Chairs and tables were rented. All tables had white table clothe, a vase of flower on them, and could sit six people. It kind of reminded Neda of a fancy restaurant. However the food, since there were so many different type of them, were served in a buffet style for the guests. Father had hired an orchestra to play Persian music, the type that were proper for dancing. He had thrown the biggest wedding for his daughter as far as the guests concerned.

Neda remembered that first she had danced with her father; then Sohrab, her brother came and took her away from her father and danced with her. Neda smelled alcohol in her brother's breath; but she was enjoying so much to be close to her brother that she did not bother to ask him. She guessed that they were serving alcohol somewhere for men. Women were not supposed to drink. While her head was on her brother shoulder and he was carrying her to the sky, she felt a tap on her shoulder. It was Mansour. "It is my turn!" For some odd reason she did not want to dance with her new husband, anybody but him. However to respond to the guest's clapping and hurry, she began dancing with Mansour. People throwing "Noghl" on her head. "More, more". Some people were dancing by themselves; some in a group, It was apparent that everybody had a good time. She slowly left the dance scene. Her high hill was killing her. Her heel caught the bottom of her dress and made big hole in the back of her heavy gown. She sat on the bench under the cherry tree. She was looking around. She could not believe that her aunt Zari was dancing. Her father and Sima dancing in a corner to a disco type music, but their dance was a close romantic one. She learned so much about her family by the way they were dancing that she could not have learned it by talking to them. Her mother was running the show; to make sure there were enough chicken or kabob, or ghormeh sabsi on the food table. She could not see Maryam. "Where is she?" Sohrab came and asked her to dance. "No, I'm tired." Mansour never again asked her for dance. But it was obvious he had a good time. He was right in the middle and dancing the night away.

Night had already fallen; but they had so many strings of lights amongst the tree branches and around the building that the garden looked like day, except when Neda looked at sky. It was becoming too black, too dull. She was very tired. She thought about everything that happened that day, from early morning to now. She wished she could sneak into the building, go to her room and shower and change. She wanted to wash out the trace of the Wig woman from herself. She looked again at the black sky. "Too dark!" Even those beads of shinning stars that had always inspired her to write, now were ashen and colorless. Why was it that this afternoon people had not left her alone for a minute to breathe; and now nobody even noticed that this whole thing was because of her and nobody paid attention to her.

Then the guests began leaving. If it was not for their children strewn here and there, nagging, complaining, sleeping, perhaps they did not want to leave. They did not know when would be the next time that they could have such a good time. She saw, a husband and wife fighting. She heard the wife: "All night you're dancing with different women!" She was tired of standing, now Mansour next to her, shaking hands and hugging and kissing people good byes. "We really had a good time!" All those phony congratulations, all those fake talking, words that had no true meanings, gestures that were artificial!

She felt like she was in another planet, far from all these people, in some unattainable place. She had to come back to earth painstakingly every minute so her unreachable attitude would not offend people who were saying goodbyes to her, so she appeared not courteous.

Suddenly she recalled another shocking reality about all these chaos. As it was customary, a woman relative, in her case Aunt Zari, Maryam's mom, was supposed to go with them to their new apartment and sleep in there, somewhere; and wait for Mansour to bring out the white handkerchief, embroidered, ironed, which had Neda's virginity blood on it. She remembered her argument with her mother over this issue. At the end, her mother's teary eyes had made her to give in. Oh, all these terrible things that women had to go through. She wished she was never born or at least she was born in a different, civilized country, or perhaps she was born a boy.

Suddenly something flashed din her mind. "I talk to Mansour before leaving. But he was gone. There were a lot less people now in the garden. He was no where to be found. She looked everywhere. She went upstairs to go to her room and change clothes. She heard men voices were coming from her father's study. Without knocking, she opened the door and went in. Her father, Sohrab, Mansour, her uncles, and a few close friends were all there. They were all drinking vodka. She had never known that her father or those other men drank! All were startled by her entering the room. Father, shocked, was the one who spoke:

"It is you, honey! What do you want?"

She could not speak. She could not move. The thought of having a drunk man in bed with her ruined completely the little joy she had of being married. Every one looked at her. They all saw the awe on her face. Finally Mansour walked to her and asked her in a very gentle fashion, yet drunk:

"Do you need to talk to me?"

"Yes!" She sighed.

They left the room and went downstairs, and then straight to the garden. She sat on the bench. Mansour put his arm around her and his other hand on her tight. He began rubbing her legs. She removed his hand angrily.

"Listen, you're my wife now!"

"I don't care. I didn't know you drink!"

"There is nothing wrong with occasional drinking. Your father and your brother were drinking, too."

"I don't care if they were drinking. I don't have to sleep with them. You've never told me."

"I don't have to tell you everything. Men drink sometimes. Your father invited us to his room." He removed his arm that was on her shoulder. Then faced her.

"What did you want? You were looking for me!"

Neda could not remember why she was looking for him. She had to think hard. But what came to her mind was Mansour's change of attitude. He was not the same as yesterday or even that afternoon, before they officially became husband and wife. She thought to herself:

"Now I see the real him. He was acting all these times!"

"I don't want to go with you tonight to the apartment." She managed to say. Not only that she had forgotten that her aunt Zari coming with them was the reason she had looked for him, but at this point, she just did not want to be married at all. Dreams of her being a famous poet one day seemed dashed in just the last few hours. She imagined herself like her mother or her aunt. She saw herself cooking, taking care of babies, and obeying Mansour. This was not what she had thought of marriage. She felt the price she was paying to get away from this house was much weightier one. She suddenly saw a gulf between herself and this man. She saw this gulf as a barrier, an unmovable mountain between them which made them to never agree with each other, to never speak with each other or communicate in a friendly manner. And wasn't it best not to speak to such man at all?

She knew by admitting these new thoughts to Mansour, their relationship, if there was any, would never be the same, before even they would start. To realize her new, which in fact was not new, feelings that were just came to being in her uproarious soul was more painful than a physical blow. Yet she knew and was certain that these sensations belonged to the true part of her which now quickly would be smothered by the cruelty of life, the life she had chosen.

All part of her body ache and resulted her a tremendous horror. Memories, past life, thoughts, and feelings within her stirred in this new aversion and she practically twisted in pain. Tears rushed down her face. She covered her face with both hands. She was mourning the death of her life, her childhood, her...

"If I only had a wing,

I could fly out from this unearthly sight.

If I knew how to sing,

I could enchant a song on the height.

If I only had the God's ring,

I could bring green breeze into spring.

But all I still know is wondering."

To Be Continued

UNFULFILLED_ Five- ~`~` The Wedding

Mehri felt like an inner voice talked to her in a vile and coarse manner, telling her that she was old, undesirable, and unwanted. Therefor all the stains of her being old and unattractive seemed to grab her and tell her that she was not going to escape from this ; she was not going to change, yet she was going to stay the same as she had been with all her hesitation, her ceaseless discontent with her life, and her useless effort to improve. The voice told her that she failed and someone else won; and the perpetual happiness that she was after, would never come to her.

This was the only period in Neda's life that she was not aware of her true feelings and thoughts. She was blinded by love, which later she would discover that it was not love- what was it then? She was not sure because it was not even lust or passion! At the sight of Mansour, joy and pleasure glowed in her eyes and parted her lips into a smile. She could not extinguish the flare of love at these moment for her fiance, even though it was not ordinary for a young girl to show these kind of signs in front of her family.

Having the final exams and also being busy for the "PREPARATION" for the wedding resulted that Mansour and Neda did not see each other much these days. His family which was only his mother and a single sister were at Neda's home to help, since they could not contribute financially. Both women were unassuming and unimportant like her mother. They did not say much. Only once Neda saw that his mother and her mother had some kind of argument. Later she asked her mother:

"Oh, that was nothing. She wanted to make the train of your gown a little shorter. I told her that they are not even paying for the damn thing!"

Neda thought how was it possible that her mother took revenge of her doomed life on the weaker woman!

However not having so much talk with Mansour these days gave Neda this false hope that everything was fine and soon she would be the master of her own home. They paused when they saw each other, glanced at each other, or secretly kissed. Things that had nothing to do with conversation, made Neda to forget his idea of marriage was to have a dutiful wife and for her at that moment was only the bliss of being married and to leave her parental home.

She looked prettier than before even though she was not a very beautiful girl. They say people in love glow. Neda radiated. Despite her mother with ashen face, Neda looked like sunshine with a splendour that every time Mansour looked at her, he felt he should divert his eyes from her so the sun rays would not burn his eyes.

To Be Continued

UNFULFILLED-Five- The Wedding

The foolish preparation for wedding destroyed all the happiness for Neda. Yes the absurd anticipation, things had to be bought, the invitation had to be sent out, and that pointless and laughable wedding gown that in no way Neda could convince her mother for something simpler. Mother was in control of something, and her words these days were final.

Father, who had had a very high hope for his favorite little Girl, Neda, at this point, truly did not care one way or the other. He was just spending the money and would give Mehri as much money as she wanted. Father did not care that Mansour did not have money to pay for Neda's wedding gown, or pay for the wedding (as it is customary in Iran). Why didn't he care? Neda was the only one who made him ashamed of what he had done! He still loved Neda, but he wanted her out of the house; and marriage was the only way! After many years of a boring life that had become like a routine, now he felt alive, good, and blessed. For not losing all these great feelings, he did not care that his daughter was about to marry a man twenty years older than her with no money, no real job, and no real education. His reason was: "Mansour has prospective. He is a good man. He'll take care of Neda, and would be able to bring her down to earth." He truly believed that Mansour had potential to provide a good life for Neda. He just needed to help them out at the beginning. Jalal was of the opinion that Neda's marriage would not be a momentary impulse by her or Mansour, but it would be an even that would last for ever. He had already forgotten that he had set all these himself' or perhaps if he thought that it was not him that brought them together, the matter would be forgotten. When all the commotion in his house would be over, he thought, his new normal, yet exciting life with Sima would be back. He thought his first wife, Mehri, was so submissive and needy that she could not in any way annoy them. And about his son, Sohrab, he knew that he did not care one way or the other. The only one who was giving him an uneasy inclination was Neda. She would be gone in short order to her own place. He even rented an apartment for the bride and groom and paid six months rent in advance. This one, he said was his wedding gift to them besides the usual entire household furniture, a bedroom suit, and of course the cost of the wedding itself. Nevertheless, he told Mansour that he needed to find a real job, and to finish his college, and to provide for his young bride to be.

"I'm helping you guys now to start, because I know you're made for each other; but you must do it yourself in short order!"

Yes, the ludicrous arrangement for wedding caused that Jalal to talk more to Mehri, his first wife, than to Sims, the second one. However speaking a few words occasionally to her had its own exquisite charm. Some days, not even one word was spoken between the two of them, but they enjoyed each other completely by analytic and penetrating use of looking at each other and by hearing each other's voice when talking to others. They told each other more by not speaking than when they spoke. Jalal could see in Sima, in sparkling light in her eyes, in laughter of passion and satisfaction that she showed in her face without even being aware of them, in her natural firmness, in her certain contentment, and in the movement of her body, more than when he was in bed with her and touching her. He knew that she was not offended or upset since he could not spare some time for her during the day because of the foolish preparation of the wedding.

Mehri, on the other hand, had not forgotten her pain. Her mental suffering was an incurable suffering that she had to endure until the last day of her life. She had never had what was given to Sima in a very short time by her husband. She had given money, business, and the way of life to her husband; Sima had given him light, passion, and life. She could not compete with that. She knew it was not possible to cure a broken heart, as it was impossible to collect spilled water from the ground. She was conscious of the degradation specially these days that many family members had filled their house for the wedding anticipation. Every look, any hint reminded her of her humiliation even though none was referred to her. She told her sister- in- law one day while wrapping candies in the white net and making a bow at the end of it:

"What I feel is completely sickening and harsh. It is hard to say what it is. It's much more worse than depression. I feel like all the virtue in me have vanished, leaving me only atrociousness."

To Be Continued