Thirty One { Return }

In the whole situation, Fatie, Anna's mother, felt completely left out. She thought not being born in an aristocrat family had something to do with he degree of Anna's love for her father compare to much less for her. She would sit in her room every evening alone, while Anna spent time with her father in his room; and she would think about her life, the way Shahzdeh, her husband, had treated her all these years, and now her own daughter, who almost had a nervous breakdown after Aria's death, being so dedicated to her father, , as though he was the last person in this world she could love. On the other hand if everything for Anna was blood line, her blood was in her veins, too. Why did she treat her so differently than her father? She remembered that for the last thirty one years since she married Ali (Shahzdeh), he neither abused her nor criticized her; however, he had never satisfied her with passion or told her loving words as men normally did. In fact, his behaviour towards her had been just the same when she was only a nanny for Aria. The only thing that their marriage had changed in her life was sleeping with him occasionally and not getting paid for the her service as nanny. Her daughter's life had opened her eyes somewhat to the fact that a woman could be equal to a man. For her there was no equality. She felt that even her own daughter thought differently about her since she was not an aristocrat. If she only knew how hard Anna worked for living, may be she would change her idea for the last part of her suffering.
On the other hand Anna was not aware that her behavior was hurting her mother. If she had only known; She would perhaps pay a little more attention to her and comfort her that she loved her just as much as her father. No one could accuse her of taking sides because of rank and money. The only thing that made her so close to her father was that she saw herself in her father, or as her father had said to her in the hospital: "You're me!"
Sometimes looking at her father, she felt she was looking into a mirror at herself. Even her physical look was very much like him- being slender, the shape of their face, nose, mouth, even their fingers. The people that they did not know them, like in America, could tell right away that they were father and daughter. Their manner, the way they talked, moved their hands, everything was so similar that Anna sometimes did not understand why at one point she had hated him. One thing though she had in common with her mother and was very proud of it, and that was her hair, medium brown, shinny, and without curl. People that worked for them, respected Anna just as they did her father; as though she was the master when he was ill. Since Anna did not want anyone to bother her father with the business of their state, news of the day, and chores of the house, all employees would come to her every morning for taking orders and giving reports or the news of the day. In all these Fatie felt more and more isolated. Weren't those her job to do when her husband had fallen ill?
One of the news that captivated Anna and she followed it intensely was about revolution, street fights, and riots in the different cities against The Shah's regime. It all started with an article in a newspaper about the exiled Khomeini. The insulting article stirred up religious leaders and their followers. Things looked bad since the revolution condemned people like her father for being aristocrat and belonging to the One Thousand family. She was frightened for her parents' safety. The surge of the revolutions seemed to be anti- Americans, and her being an American Citizen, daughter of an aristocrat, and widow of CIA agent, were a lethal combination in that environment.
Talking to Dr. Hamid one evening about her fears and worries brightened her eyes to many things that happened before her time and almost the history of her native land. Her cousin thought it was time for her to go back to America before they close all the airports.
"How can I do this? What about my parents? I'll be worry to death for them."
"I understand your worries, but you can't do anything except adding to the anxiety of Shahzdeh and your mother. Your dad is very concern about your safety. He told me so."
"But he didn't tell me anything himself.!"
"Because he knows how adamant you are and you won't listen. It's over a month that you're here. He is feeling much better. Your life is there, your career, everything. You must go back before it's too late; if you want to please your dad!"
"Let me think about this. Are you coming here tomorrow night?"
"Yes,"
"I'll give you my answer tomorrow night."
That night in her room, she thought about what her cousin, Dr. Hamid, had told her. Everything he had said was true and made sense. She knew if she could not get out, her father would be hurt and sick again. On the other hand, how could she go in a situation like this; when her father's health was not perfect, and his dignity was in danger because of the revolution? Her father and people like him would be the first target if the revolution became more serious and moved to the streets of Tehran. She needed to make a tough decision. If she could just take them with her.
In the morning, as usual, she went to her father's bedroom. He was awake, waiting for her. He was also waiting that she would approach him to discuss her decision; for he asked Dr. Hamid to talk to her. He knew that his daughter liked Hamid and respected him and found him a man of reason.
In the room, as usual, Anna kissed her father. He was already bathed and shaved and had his navy, satin robe on.
"Do you want to have your tea here or in the living room, dad?" She was suspicious that he knew that Dr. Hamid had talked to her about this issue.
"I have my tea a little later this morning.
Anna did his bed and then sat on it. He sat on a chair next o the window. His back was to her. For the first time Anna noticed that her father's bedroom was the smallest in the house. But she right away figured out the reason. It was a corner room with two windows on east and side side. He could have a nice breeze in summertime.
They both were waiting for the other to throw the big question or the bigger answer. Silence went on for awhile. Then finally Shahzdeh got up from his chair and came and sat next to her on the bed. Hesitantly, he said:
"Have you read the newspaper today?"
"Not yet, why dad?"
"Just want to know about revolution. I don't feel good about it. I am afraid for your safety."
"How about your safety, dad?"
"I'm not an American Citizen, you are. If you love me and your mother, you must go back as soon as possible.
"Dad, it is not fair that you say if I love you two..." Then she stayed quiet. Tears rushed down her face. The infamous knot formed in her throat again; and before bursting into a loud cry, she said: "I know dad. I decided to go back. I don't want to add to your anxiety by being here. But you must promise me to move to America as soon as you can and live with me. Maybe things calm down; then you can return."
He sighed. He was crying, too. They embraced.
"It takes a lot of preparation. But I think about it seriously.I tell Reza to call the airport for your ticket."
"Yes, dad."

To Be Continued

Thirty One ------Return

After Fatie left, Anna stood there motionless. She though her father had to be under the influence of drugs, for he could not stay awake. She had to allow him to sleep. She walked to the window and looked down to the street, the city lights, and the stars above. They were the the same as she remembered them when she was only a child, a teenager. She recalled the days she was fighting with her father for going to America. She wished she had never done that; nonetheless things, her relationship with her father could not have been the same if she had not gone to America, if she had not shown him her courage, if she had not been a shoulder for him to lean on at the time of Aria's death. She thought that she earned that equality from a man like her father by everything she had done. If not, she would still be an ordinary woman like her mother, married to a rich man, holding tea parties, and wearing expensive jewelry and clothes. At this point, looking at her father, the way he was now, she was not sure which one of the choices were better. What if she had never left? But then again, if her leaving had not happened, she never had this kind of closeness with her father. But did it matter now? She did not know the extent of her father's heart damage; and until the next morning, when she would see Dr. Hamid, she could not know. Nevertheless, by observing him, his breathing, and the machines that were connected to him, suddenly her nursing expertise came to surface, and she knew the signs were not good but they were not that bad either.
Standing by the window, she wondered if she had returned for doubting her life, her parents' lives, her dead brother's short life, doubting the change of her nationality, doubting all the big things, yet little things, important things, yet silly things. She knew that in the history of her country, every time a revolution happened, the people went after wealthy and well offs. That was frightening her even more than her father's heart. Now it seemed to her that everything in her life was like an accident. By doubting and waiting more, she had come across other things accidentally and learned about them. But now she did not know anything more about all the big things she had wanted than the beginning of the time when she had begun wanting them. There were all like a closed chain, when all the links looked the same and no one ever knew where the first link was or where she had started with the chain.
She had yearned to look into her father's eyes for the longest time, since the last they visited her. Now his closed eyes somehow reflected from their boundlessness a glare that she could find neither a meaning nor a reason for it. All these years had come and gone. The sky above was what she and her father held in common. But as she looked into the dark of sky above, she realized that there was nothing in this world that anyone could hold in common. She was an individual, separate from her father; nonetheless, by any law, the law of blood, common interest, relation, or past experience, she adored this man, she thought, even more than her dead brother or husband, for this man being so different from her, was just like her. Now she understood what "you're me" that he had said at the beginning of her visit, meant. His blood ran ran inside her veins, as hers ran through his. He was, she thought, all she had left.
A nurse came to check on her father. Then her mother returned to bring her some food and changing clothes if she wished to take a bath in her father's room. The driver had stayed downstairs. She profusely apologized to her mother for her rude behavior earlier that night. Fatie said she understood. The food stayed untouched. The bag of clothing stayed untouched.
She listened to the night sounds. Nothing was finishing, nothing was beginning. She suddenly feared, a fear like an icy viscous hole in all the depletion, where at one point her self-assurance had existed strongly to the point that had occasionally made her sick of having too much self confident.
Finally the morning came. She had watched her father all night, his breathing, moving, and sighing. Now he was awake in an ill- tempered manner. She sat on the corner of his bed holding his hand. "Aren't you glad to see me, dad?"
He felt bewildered and absently said: "When did you come?"
"Last night, don't you remember?"
He thought for a moment. "Oh, yes! I thought I was dreaming."
The nurse came and asked Anna to leave the room so she would do her daily routine of changing the sheets and giving Shahzdeh a wet bath. Anna walked outside. In the corridor, she walked up and down. She still did not know how serious her father's heart attack was. To her, it could not be that serious. She finally decided to sit on a chair behind his room. As tired as she was, she did not want to leave there until seeing Dr. Hamid. She wished some one would bring her a cup of coffee, American coffee; but she knew the best thing she could get was a glass of tea in her parents' home. The last time she remembered sleeping was back in Dallas. Fatigue was taking its toll on her.
When Dr. Hamid showed up, first Anna did not recognized him. His hair was all white and he looked much thinner. When he got closer, she suddenly identified him. She got up from her chair and ran towards him.
"Is that you, Anna?" He said.
She smiled. "Have I changed a lot?"
"Oh, my God, yes, but for better. You look grown up now. I remember you as a little girl."
"How is my father? When can he go home?'
"Hopefully in a few days. He had myocardial infarction. First we did an angiology to find the problem; and then we closed the artery by an angioplasty."
"Do you think it may happen again?"
"It's hard to say. But considering his age, and all the anxieties he has gone through, there is a possibility. How long will you stay Anna?'
"My original plan was two weeks; but now, I am not sure. I'll stay until father gets better."
"Good, having a nurse at home helps."
Anna smiled and they both walked to Shahzdeh's room.
Three nights had only passed from Anna being in Tehran; yet she had felt something of herself behind in that hospital room. It was not any possession that she had left behind; but it was something indescribable, some moments of her life, her feelings, her talking with the doctors, the nurses, the echo of their voices, her voice.
Needless to say that she was very happy that finally she could walk at home, she could hold her fighter's hand, and she could be a help to her mother. The plan of hiring a nurse for her father was refused by her, and Dr. Hamid agreed with her, since she was a nurse practitioner. Since her arrival, she had gone to home from hospital only once to shower and change clothes. Her mother told her that her taking care of her father was in a an obsessive way. She thought that her mother was envious; but she never told her mother what she thought.
Dr. Hamid came for house visit every other day and stayed after his routine examination for dinner. He very much liked Anna and wanted to talk to her. Her solitary life and her dedication to her father fascinated him, and the fact that she was a nurse practitioner in America opened doors for the two cousins to talk about their professions and the difference and similarities of medical treatment in the two countries. For one thing, There was no concept of nurse practitioner in Iran, and Anna explained that to her cousin. When Anna told him that in America they would have treated her father the same way he had done, he seemed very happy to hear that. Shahzdeh mostly participated in their conversation; nonetheless, since he would get tired and excited specially when they talked about politics and revolution, much quicker than his old self, Dr. Hamid would ask him to go to bed and rest.

To Be Continued

Thiry One Return

The long journey I took,
Puzzled me over the meaning of return.
Like wondering over the message of a painting or a book
When we are what we want to see or learn.
*
In my return, I was in cheer.
I was also filled with horror and pain.
The light was pure, yet cruel and near.
Trying furiously to open doors and remain.
*
Shazdeh patted Anna's cheek in his gravely vacant way. She bent down and kissed his forehead. This hospital bed reminded her of another time, another hospital bed; and she shuddered. Even nothing there were as sophisticated as the hospital in Washington, where Steve took his last breath, the ambiance reminded her so much of that other, that she could no more stay in the room.
She felt exhausted of the long journey. She remembered how adamant she had been for going directly to the hospital instead of home. Her mother wanted her to go home instead of hospital and rest awhile; but that was out of question. By the time they had gotten to the hospital, it was eight o'clock at night and no visitors were allowed. That was the way Iranian hospitals operated, only certain hours in the morning and the same in the afternoon for visitation. She recalled arguing with the man in charge, in front desk as though she was in a hotel and did not have a reservation. "I just came from America. I can't wait till tomorrow to see my father."
"So what?'" He returned his question feelinglessly.
Anna softened a little: "Please, let me see him tonight."
"No,"
Anna murmured something under her tongue.
"What did you say?" The man asked her.
Anna walked away. Her mother joined her.
"Honey, let's go home. I told you about visitation hours. We'll come back tomorrow morning."
"No, mom, no. I must see my dad now."
"They went back to the man. "Can I talk to my dad on the phone?" Anna tried to sound nice, but it was so hard for her to hide her emotion and her displeasure for that man's heartlessness.
It was obvious the man did not like her, or her attitude, or what she represented; nevertheless, he said: "I call the nurse."
When the nurse showed up, despite the man's rude order, she allowed her to talk to her father.
"Oh, dad, I can't wait till tomorrow. I must see you now. They won't let me."
Shahzdeh could not hide his feeling either. He needed to see his daughter, too. "Call Dr. Hamid."
She remembered Dr. Hamid. He was a second cousin to her. He had always been their family doctor. He was also was a part owner of that hospital. After talking to him, the doctor ordered the man in charge that not only Anna could see her father, she could even spend the night there, if she wanted to. The man seemed irritated. He muttered something; but Anna did not pay any attention to his annoyance and got into elevator with her mother. On the sixth floor, she did not wait for her mother's slow walking, and ran to room 612, where her father was for the last four days under intensive care.
Even though, they had talked only a few minutes ago, her father was dozing when she entered the room. She thought perhaps he was all drugged up. He seemed happy in his silent sleep; however, she was eager for his words. His silence was painful. Her mother held her hand. "Please don't wake him up."
Anna almost forgot that Fatie was her mother. She looked at her as though she was intruding the most private thing she had, being with her father.
"Mom, will you let me be alone with him for awhile, please."
Fatie, hurt, left the room. Anna stood by the bed, staring at her dad's pale face. He had a faded smile in the corner of his mouth, a forgotten one. She did not like the sight she was seeing. The IV, his purple forearm, where the needle was, the oxygen tubes in his nose, some other wires which were coming from his chest and other parts of his body, and she did not know where the end of each was, no she she did not like it at all. She only touched his hand, being afraid to break that glassy hand that was blue of many injections. He opened his eyes, and then smiled. It seemed to her that he was dreaming about her and Aria.
"Dad," She could not continue. A knot was chocking her throat. He squeezed her hand.
"Anna," He smiled with closed eyes.
She bent down and kissed his cheek and hand. He opened his eyes. She could see tear in them. "I love you, dad."
"You're the only thing I've left. You're me." He said that surprisingly words.
She did not understand what he meant by "you're me". But she relaxed a little. It was a good sign that he was responsive to her, she thought, definitely that was a good sign. She stayed silent, reflective, almost in a way that she could erase herself in a swift way. Fatie returned to the room.
"Sweetheart, now that you saw your dad, let's go home. We come back in the morning."
Anna looked at her mother bitterly, as though she was the enemy not her father's heart, her mother. "You, go on mom. I stay here tonight. Dr. Hamid said I could."
"You're tired and hungry. Please Anna."
"No, mother. Stop pestering me. I won't move from here."
Fatie, despondent that Anna loved her father in so very different way than she loved her, finally prepared to leave; but before that, she said: "I send some food for you."

To Be Continued