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
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
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
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
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
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
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
Monday, July 12, 2010
Thirty ////// Languid Dreams
Against her father's repeated request and her mother's almost begging, Anna bought an airplane ticket and on January fifteen, 1978, she went back home after many years.
In the airplane, pressing her face against the little oval shape window, she envisioned home, her very first trip when she was going to London, her cousin's home. Then she envisioned her room in her parents house, Aria's room, streets the day her father took her to a restaurant after Aria's funeral. Then she remembered the trees in their properties and everything else she thought she had forgotten. She could see the placid silver sheet of sky with the big, bright moon of Tehran, the blue, almost pale blue sky beneath the rays of sun. That sky to her almost seemed like a sea without disturbance or wave. That vision was serene and perfect that she felt that no billow could ripple this dreamy sea and no gloom or thunder could shadow the lucidity of its blueness. She had thought that she could never go back again; but now past and gone were too dear and near to her. They were present; the things she had striven to put behind her now rustled again. And now suddenly, the fear, that clandestine uproar and confusion, the long undertaking to heedless, unconscionable terror and dread pitifully chocked her. For some unforeseen reasons, they all had been hidden in her for sometime; but as the airplane approached the sky of Tehran, the panic, the old frenzy, and horror, as a living companion, all returned. She closed her eyes to stop the dreadful vision.
While the airplane encircled over the Mehrabad Airport, perhaps waiting for clearance to land, Anna visualized that soon she would stand completely transformed on the streets of Tehran, would shiver of the feeling of touching and sensing everything in coming days, and arising to life from her ideological and psychic numbness as if encompassing the destiny of her innate land afresh, the hurt, the wounds, and the pains of Tehran. Her resurrection to life would not be only from day to day of her land's history but from century to century.
She imagined walking around, touching everything, standing on streets, looking thirstily, and absorbing all that had made Tehran. She would identify the intersections, the names of the streets, the buildings, and would realize what she had forgotten; but all would be in a new way. Big things, little things, things without meaning, and profound things, they all would be there for her to see, to touch, to hear, and to feel. The house, the garden, and all the people she knew would be there to welcome her return. She could smell the scent of sweet roses mingling with the running water in the streams of her house in Tehran. She would picture the falling rain and the moss beneath her feet before entering the building of her house. And she would see her father, growing old, standing on the threshold, looking at her, walking under the archway to reach her. She would see him old and pale, and she would see him leaning on Mehdi, their gardener, for support. Then she would see her mother behind the window of the receiving room, waving at her. Then everything would be silent, hushed, no sound, except the murmur of water in streams and the soft rain. She felt that in her vision there was no confusion of manner, no mixing up of the time between Tehran and Dallas. Everything was pure perfection in a vivid and strange way. There was world peace everywhere. The only thing she did not like in her vision was her father's pale face. "Oh, I'll bring him back to health." That receiving was not a formal coldness but it was warm and alive. They were all in harmony with the weather, flowers, rain, and water in the streams.
When the airplane landed, she opened her eyes and looked at the cloudy sky. The rain was missing. She was one of the first to exit and got on the airport bus. The bus got full of people but it was like a slow motion movie. The ride was also slow, and she thought why the driver could not drive any faster. When they finally got to their destination, airport terminal, she looked almost terrified towards the widows that were separating terminal from outside people. Many faces were glued to the windows and she could not recognize any of them.
She entered the terminal, shivering of what she would face. Her heart was pounding so fast she though she would collapse. Searching with her eyes amongst the huge crowd, she saw a young man was walking towards her with a smile on his face. She did not know him. He reached her and politely said: "Welcome home, Miss Anna. I am the new driver."
She was hurt. She felt empty. where was the fan fair? where were her parents?
"My parents couldn't come?" She asked hesitantly.
"Oh, your mother is here. Your father will see you at home."
Anna walked with him to where her mother was sitting on a chair. She was bent, old, and broken; that is what Anna saw. They hugged and kissed. The driver said hurriedly: "I'll go for your suitcase."
"I have only one. We can go through green line."
He smiled. "Good," and walked away.
"Who is he, mother?"
"He is the new driver."
"What happened to Muhammad?"
"He left us to join the revolution."
"Where is dad? How come he didn't come to the airport? Is he still mad me for coming home?"
"Oh, no sweetheart. He just didn't feel very good today."
"What is it? What is wrong with dad?"
"We talk about it later. You're tired now."
"Now, mother," Anna's voice was loud and harsh.
Fatie looked at her daughter. She could not believe how much she looked and acted like her father, Shahzdeh.
"Pneumonia,"
"That was three months ago. What else?'
Fatied paused. The driver returned. "I don't know your suitcase. Do you mind going with me?"
Anna followed him. Fatie stayed behind. As suitcases were falling down the belt, Anna approached the young driver: "What is your name?"
"Reza,"
"Reza, what is wrong with my father. My mother won't tell me."
He looked bewildered and was not certain how to act in front of his boss's daughter; nevertheless, her stare was intimidating.
"He had a heart attack. Please don't tell anyone that I told you."
Anna nodded her head. "Thank you," Then she pointed to a small, blue suitcase. "That is mine."
She walked towards where her mother was waiting. She gazed at her for a moment without speaking. Fatie knew that Reza had told her daughter about Shahzdeh's heart attack. She was not sure whether she saw anger in her daughter's eyes or despair, for her face had become like a mask. She looked pale and intense. Her daughter frightened her. She took her hands. They felt lifeless to Fatie.
To Be Continued
In the airplane, pressing her face against the little oval shape window, she envisioned home, her very first trip when she was going to London, her cousin's home. Then she envisioned her room in her parents house, Aria's room, streets the day her father took her to a restaurant after Aria's funeral. Then she remembered the trees in their properties and everything else she thought she had forgotten. She could see the placid silver sheet of sky with the big, bright moon of Tehran, the blue, almost pale blue sky beneath the rays of sun. That sky to her almost seemed like a sea without disturbance or wave. That vision was serene and perfect that she felt that no billow could ripple this dreamy sea and no gloom or thunder could shadow the lucidity of its blueness. She had thought that she could never go back again; but now past and gone were too dear and near to her. They were present; the things she had striven to put behind her now rustled again. And now suddenly, the fear, that clandestine uproar and confusion, the long undertaking to heedless, unconscionable terror and dread pitifully chocked her. For some unforeseen reasons, they all had been hidden in her for sometime; but as the airplane approached the sky of Tehran, the panic, the old frenzy, and horror, as a living companion, all returned. She closed her eyes to stop the dreadful vision.
While the airplane encircled over the Mehrabad Airport, perhaps waiting for clearance to land, Anna visualized that soon she would stand completely transformed on the streets of Tehran, would shiver of the feeling of touching and sensing everything in coming days, and arising to life from her ideological and psychic numbness as if encompassing the destiny of her innate land afresh, the hurt, the wounds, and the pains of Tehran. Her resurrection to life would not be only from day to day of her land's history but from century to century.
She imagined walking around, touching everything, standing on streets, looking thirstily, and absorbing all that had made Tehran. She would identify the intersections, the names of the streets, the buildings, and would realize what she had forgotten; but all would be in a new way. Big things, little things, things without meaning, and profound things, they all would be there for her to see, to touch, to hear, and to feel. The house, the garden, and all the people she knew would be there to welcome her return. She could smell the scent of sweet roses mingling with the running water in the streams of her house in Tehran. She would picture the falling rain and the moss beneath her feet before entering the building of her house. And she would see her father, growing old, standing on the threshold, looking at her, walking under the archway to reach her. She would see him old and pale, and she would see him leaning on Mehdi, their gardener, for support. Then she would see her mother behind the window of the receiving room, waving at her. Then everything would be silent, hushed, no sound, except the murmur of water in streams and the soft rain. She felt that in her vision there was no confusion of manner, no mixing up of the time between Tehran and Dallas. Everything was pure perfection in a vivid and strange way. There was world peace everywhere. The only thing she did not like in her vision was her father's pale face. "Oh, I'll bring him back to health." That receiving was not a formal coldness but it was warm and alive. They were all in harmony with the weather, flowers, rain, and water in the streams.
When the airplane landed, she opened her eyes and looked at the cloudy sky. The rain was missing. She was one of the first to exit and got on the airport bus. The bus got full of people but it was like a slow motion movie. The ride was also slow, and she thought why the driver could not drive any faster. When they finally got to their destination, airport terminal, she looked almost terrified towards the widows that were separating terminal from outside people. Many faces were glued to the windows and she could not recognize any of them.
She entered the terminal, shivering of what she would face. Her heart was pounding so fast she though she would collapse. Searching with her eyes amongst the huge crowd, she saw a young man was walking towards her with a smile on his face. She did not know him. He reached her and politely said: "Welcome home, Miss Anna. I am the new driver."
She was hurt. She felt empty. where was the fan fair? where were her parents?
"My parents couldn't come?" She asked hesitantly.
"Oh, your mother is here. Your father will see you at home."
Anna walked with him to where her mother was sitting on a chair. She was bent, old, and broken; that is what Anna saw. They hugged and kissed. The driver said hurriedly: "I'll go for your suitcase."
"I have only one. We can go through green line."
He smiled. "Good," and walked away.
"Who is he, mother?"
"He is the new driver."
"What happened to Muhammad?"
"He left us to join the revolution."
"Where is dad? How come he didn't come to the airport? Is he still mad me for coming home?"
"Oh, no sweetheart. He just didn't feel very good today."
"What is it? What is wrong with dad?"
"We talk about it later. You're tired now."
"Now, mother," Anna's voice was loud and harsh.
Fatie looked at her daughter. She could not believe how much she looked and acted like her father, Shahzdeh.
"Pneumonia,"
"That was three months ago. What else?'
Fatied paused. The driver returned. "I don't know your suitcase. Do you mind going with me?"
Anna followed him. Fatie stayed behind. As suitcases were falling down the belt, Anna approached the young driver: "What is your name?"
"Reza,"
"Reza, what is wrong with my father. My mother won't tell me."
He looked bewildered and was not certain how to act in front of his boss's daughter; nevertheless, her stare was intimidating.
"He had a heart attack. Please don't tell anyone that I told you."
Anna nodded her head. "Thank you," Then she pointed to a small, blue suitcase. "That is mine."
She walked towards where her mother was waiting. She gazed at her for a moment without speaking. Fatie knew that Reza had told her daughter about Shahzdeh's heart attack. She was not sure whether she saw anger in her daughter's eyes or despair, for her face had become like a mask. She looked pale and intense. Her daughter frightened her. She took her hands. They felt lifeless to Fatie.
To Be Continued
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Thirty +++ Languid Dreams
Sometimes Anna felt that she was almost dead, or injured by all these years of loneliness and tragedy, or by this life; things that had happened to her. Her father being sick was an added torment to her. She was weary from an old wound, a fracture that never healed properly. Sometimes she felt neither she was needed, and most importantly, nor she needed herself. Occasionally she had a sense of guilt for leaving her parents specially after the death of her brother. She sometimes even felt responsible for the death of Aria and Steve. Nevertheless, at all times she knew that she would survive even if more tragic things happened to her. She had waited to change with years, with times, with new people, new environment; nonetheless, she was not sure if the change had come or would ever come. People called her strange woman; but she believed she was as normal as anyone in her situation. However, no matter what she thought or felt, everything was only her predestined life- a life that needed to be lived.
Her frantic anguish would find no other prey to turn to; therefore, it turned inside where she desperately craved some peace and tranquility. She felt isolated; in fact she felt that the entire world around her was isolated and there was no where and no destination to turn to. The questions she asked people were all fragments of ideas and feelings she, herself, owned; and the ideas she possessed were all isolated parts of her doomed life. It all rotated. But even in this condemned life, there were moments of bliss. The day she went to the court house of the Immigration Building On Commerce Street to be sworn and become an American Citizen was one of those blissful days in her life.
She stood there, bewildered, giving up one nationality and accepting another. Torn between all emotions that one could have in a moment like this, she stood, listened, sang, and swear under oath and finally became American Citizen. A brown, large envelope was handed to her when her name was called. The judge shook hand with her and congratulated her. Inside the envelope was her white color Naturalization document with a gold seal- a twenty seven years old widow, Anna Nourie- Williams. She was given the option to change name if she wanted, but she decided to leave it the way it had been for the last seven years and to keep both her maiden name and married name.
In December of 1977, Anna told her parents that she would visit them in Iran next month. As an American Citizen, she would be traveling with her American passport. To her surprise, her parents protested her going to Iran. She wondered why! But she, too, had heard about the demonstration in some cities of Iran against the Shah; and the opinion of the revolutionaries against America. Nonetheless, she was determined to go because she was terribly worried for the safety of her family and health of her father. As a new American Citizen , she had already petitioned to get green card for her parents; but that would take time and their interview was to be in August of 1978.
She had tried to convince her parents for coming to America and living with her; but her sixty years old father was inflexible and adamant. She could recognize her father's willfulness and intransigence because he was a man that would never bend for rioters. Anna in reality, was just like her father. She perfectly understood his point of view. Their lives were there, in Tehran, hers was here, in Dallas. Immigrating was hard for people their ages. They had lived in a certain way and changing all those would be difficult and almost impossible. But what would she do with all these feelings of missing, fear, worrying, and a sense of protecting and taking care of them now that they were old and in danger? What Anna did not realize was that the danger weighted on her parents being aristocrat more than age, if they were healthy which she doubted.
To Be Continued
Her frantic anguish would find no other prey to turn to; therefore, it turned inside where she desperately craved some peace and tranquility. She felt isolated; in fact she felt that the entire world around her was isolated and there was no where and no destination to turn to. The questions she asked people were all fragments of ideas and feelings she, herself, owned; and the ideas she possessed were all isolated parts of her doomed life. It all rotated. But even in this condemned life, there were moments of bliss. The day she went to the court house of the Immigration Building On Commerce Street to be sworn and become an American Citizen was one of those blissful days in her life.
She stood there, bewildered, giving up one nationality and accepting another. Torn between all emotions that one could have in a moment like this, she stood, listened, sang, and swear under oath and finally became American Citizen. A brown, large envelope was handed to her when her name was called. The judge shook hand with her and congratulated her. Inside the envelope was her white color Naturalization document with a gold seal- a twenty seven years old widow, Anna Nourie- Williams. She was given the option to change name if she wanted, but she decided to leave it the way it had been for the last seven years and to keep both her maiden name and married name.
In December of 1977, Anna told her parents that she would visit them in Iran next month. As an American Citizen, she would be traveling with her American passport. To her surprise, her parents protested her going to Iran. She wondered why! But she, too, had heard about the demonstration in some cities of Iran against the Shah; and the opinion of the revolutionaries against America. Nonetheless, she was determined to go because she was terribly worried for the safety of her family and health of her father. As a new American Citizen , she had already petitioned to get green card for her parents; but that would take time and their interview was to be in August of 1978.
She had tried to convince her parents for coming to America and living with her; but her sixty years old father was inflexible and adamant. She could recognize her father's willfulness and intransigence because he was a man that would never bend for rioters. Anna in reality, was just like her father. She perfectly understood his point of view. Their lives were there, in Tehran, hers was here, in Dallas. Immigrating was hard for people their ages. They had lived in a certain way and changing all those would be difficult and almost impossible. But what would she do with all these feelings of missing, fear, worrying, and a sense of protecting and taking care of them now that they were old and in danger? What Anna did not realize was that the danger weighted on her parents being aristocrat more than age, if they were healthy which she doubted.
To Be Continued
Saturday, July 10, 2010
Thirty, Languid Dreams
I, who willingly departed my land,
Was free to wail about it on the height.
Now, I stagger, for the command
Is strict, and no one is coming to my sight.
*
Hiding, what a strange word, but for the sake of grace,
I am destined to do so, without a name.
I yearn a dreamless sleep, just in case,
I dream of you, my hand, blood, and flame.
*
I drain myself of all perceptions, I crush.
I abandon every beloved things I own.
To substitute them all with a talking gush.
But in me, the recurring, languid dreams have grown.
*
"My dearest Stacy,
"Nothing remains. I hunger for a spiritual lightening that somehow befallen on me. But I have no practice. Sometimes I feel the stagnation of my mind. Then I wonder what the purpose of my life has been.
"People choose different path in the course of their lives; one goes on a straight path, the other goes round and round; but when there is a misfortune, it is an unknown path that follows you no matter what path you're familiar with. It seems that in these times, we go round and round until...
"I wonder if we were born without any feelings and emotions what would be like! Would we be like animals, plants, buildings, or a piece of rock? I have loved three men in my life, my father, Steve, and Aria, my brother. Two are dead, and I think my father is sick. They won't tell me anything, but I know it, I am sure of it. My mom says that he had pneumonia; but I think it is more serious than that. I am planning to go to Iran soon, very soon; after I swear for my Citizenship. The ceremony is in two months. My parents were planning to come for it; but when they told me that they can't, I knew something was wrong. I am very proud to become American Citizen; but that does not mean that I have forgotten who I am, where I have come from, and most importantly my roots and my parents. How much I wish that after all these years, we put all of our differences aside, and you come, too. But you don't even answer my letters. Why Stacy?
"When I talk to my father, he does not seem like the same man to me. Something has died in him. I think that the greatest tragedy in life is not dying but it is what dies inside of you. Something has died inside my father. I feel it. I am not hysteric. You can not classify me as a person with hysteria. I just know it. I feel it. My intuition is never wrong.
"When I talk to him, I sense a scorn, a contempt, a ... I don't know, something I can not find a name for it, in his voice and manner that frightens me.
"Life for me is as it has always been. I still work in the same children hospital. Now I am a Nurse Practitioner. Besides seeing the sick and dying children which I still have not learned to cope with it, the other stresses are gone. Did I ever tell you about the stress in the first few years? However when I see a child is cured and he or she is going home alive and healthy, my soul and spirit are animated to dedicate more of what I can give. If I can be only a small source to bring a little something to the lives of these children, I feel like my life has had a purpose.
"Did I tell you that I have joined a literary club. Actually it is like a joke, a play; but it is something I like to do if I ever have free time. We write verses and prose. We exchange ideas. The man who runs the club, his name is John Welsh, is a very strange man. I can never figure him out. Occasionally he is lively, but mostly, he acts weird. He must be in his sixties, always wear a dark sunglasses. I guess he does that so no one can see his expression. He writes verses, some of them are very good but sad. He always starts the meeting by reading one of his poem. There is this imposing, almost patronizing keeping back, kind of reservation in his poems, an astonishing conformation of the knowledge, the view, and the sound. Any time I talk to him, some kind of unintelligible and undefined dejection and sorrow arise in me- a man without expression, with dark sunglasses! His view point of the world is baffling and obscure, and it propagates from his existence.
"Going to those meetings has introduced me to many striving poets and writers, which most of them, in my opinion, have no talent in writing. On the other hand, it is so agonizing to go to this meetings every Saturday night. I know what I will face, and I hate that; but I go anyway. I haven't read any of my verses yet. You may call me arrogant, but I think mines are much better than anything I have heard so far. We always meet in some one's house.
"It has been almost seven years from our separation; and I haven't heard not one word from you. But I know many things about you which I have recently discovered. A couple of weeks ago, in the grocery store, I came across Marianna, my old roommate before you. It is a small world, isn't it. She has a set of twins, both girls. You know her, too. She was taking many classes with us. We both were surprised to see each other. First she was unfriendly, but I insisted on talking to her. She has just recently moved to Dallas with her husband and their two little girls. She told me about you and Charlie. She told me that you're married and have a little boy. Oh, Stacy, I am so happy that you are a mother, something that God deprived from me.
write to me. Send me a picture of your little boy, please, for old times sake.
"Love, Anna"
*
To Be Continued
Was free to wail about it on the height.
Now, I stagger, for the command
Is strict, and no one is coming to my sight.
*
Hiding, what a strange word, but for the sake of grace,
I am destined to do so, without a name.
I yearn a dreamless sleep, just in case,
I dream of you, my hand, blood, and flame.
*
I drain myself of all perceptions, I crush.
I abandon every beloved things I own.
To substitute them all with a talking gush.
But in me, the recurring, languid dreams have grown.
*
"My dearest Stacy,
"Nothing remains. I hunger for a spiritual lightening that somehow befallen on me. But I have no practice. Sometimes I feel the stagnation of my mind. Then I wonder what the purpose of my life has been.
"People choose different path in the course of their lives; one goes on a straight path, the other goes round and round; but when there is a misfortune, it is an unknown path that follows you no matter what path you're familiar with. It seems that in these times, we go round and round until...
"I wonder if we were born without any feelings and emotions what would be like! Would we be like animals, plants, buildings, or a piece of rock? I have loved three men in my life, my father, Steve, and Aria, my brother. Two are dead, and I think my father is sick. They won't tell me anything, but I know it, I am sure of it. My mom says that he had pneumonia; but I think it is more serious than that. I am planning to go to Iran soon, very soon; after I swear for my Citizenship. The ceremony is in two months. My parents were planning to come for it; but when they told me that they can't, I knew something was wrong. I am very proud to become American Citizen; but that does not mean that I have forgotten who I am, where I have come from, and most importantly my roots and my parents. How much I wish that after all these years, we put all of our differences aside, and you come, too. But you don't even answer my letters. Why Stacy?
"When I talk to my father, he does not seem like the same man to me. Something has died in him. I think that the greatest tragedy in life is not dying but it is what dies inside of you. Something has died inside my father. I feel it. I am not hysteric. You can not classify me as a person with hysteria. I just know it. I feel it. My intuition is never wrong.
"When I talk to him, I sense a scorn, a contempt, a ... I don't know, something I can not find a name for it, in his voice and manner that frightens me.
"Life for me is as it has always been. I still work in the same children hospital. Now I am a Nurse Practitioner. Besides seeing the sick and dying children which I still have not learned to cope with it, the other stresses are gone. Did I ever tell you about the stress in the first few years? However when I see a child is cured and he or she is going home alive and healthy, my soul and spirit are animated to dedicate more of what I can give. If I can be only a small source to bring a little something to the lives of these children, I feel like my life has had a purpose.
"Did I tell you that I have joined a literary club. Actually it is like a joke, a play; but it is something I like to do if I ever have free time. We write verses and prose. We exchange ideas. The man who runs the club, his name is John Welsh, is a very strange man. I can never figure him out. Occasionally he is lively, but mostly, he acts weird. He must be in his sixties, always wear a dark sunglasses. I guess he does that so no one can see his expression. He writes verses, some of them are very good but sad. He always starts the meeting by reading one of his poem. There is this imposing, almost patronizing keeping back, kind of reservation in his poems, an astonishing conformation of the knowledge, the view, and the sound. Any time I talk to him, some kind of unintelligible and undefined dejection and sorrow arise in me- a man without expression, with dark sunglasses! His view point of the world is baffling and obscure, and it propagates from his existence.
"Going to those meetings has introduced me to many striving poets and writers, which most of them, in my opinion, have no talent in writing. On the other hand, it is so agonizing to go to this meetings every Saturday night. I know what I will face, and I hate that; but I go anyway. I haven't read any of my verses yet. You may call me arrogant, but I think mines are much better than anything I have heard so far. We always meet in some one's house.
"It has been almost seven years from our separation; and I haven't heard not one word from you. But I know many things about you which I have recently discovered. A couple of weeks ago, in the grocery store, I came across Marianna, my old roommate before you. It is a small world, isn't it. She has a set of twins, both girls. You know her, too. She was taking many classes with us. We both were surprised to see each other. First she was unfriendly, but I insisted on talking to her. She has just recently moved to Dallas with her husband and their two little girls. She told me about you and Charlie. She told me that you're married and have a little boy. Oh, Stacy, I am so happy that you are a mother, something that God deprived from me.
write to me. Send me a picture of your little boy, please, for old times sake.
"Love, Anna"
*
To Be Continued
Friday, July 9, 2010
Twenty Nine=========Unearthly Sight
On the Labor Day's picnic which was held at White Rock Lake, Anna participated for the first time, even though she was very hesitant to go first. It was Mary, who convinced her to go. She wondered around, looking at the bike riders, children with their parents, and lovers. It seemed to her that the entire population of Dallas was there that day. As she walked on the sand, remembering Caspian Sea, where her parents had a villa, and where her brother and she had played and walked, and also Potomac River, where Steve and she had browsed so many times, she heard someone was calling her. She stopped and turned around to see who was calling her. It was Dr. Mark who was running after her. "Oh, God, You walk too fast." He said.
Anna frowned and said in her speaking mine: "I am not walking fast. You are too fat." However she ignored him and continued walking. He caught up with her and tried to walk in her pace. She did not know what is the proper way to get rid of a man like him, who worked the same shift and practically was her boss. She decided to just ignore him; nonetheless, his walking next to him was so irritating to her that she was about to explode.
"What do you want from me? I prefer to walk alone." She finally said in a rude manner.
Suddenly he held her hand and brought her to a sudden halt to face her. "I like you. I want to go out with you."
Anna pulled her hand out of his. Her eyes were fiery, her face was red, and she did not know how to control her anger.
"I've told you many times that I'm not interested. If you don't leave me alone, I..." She could not finish her sentence. Anger had made her numb. He tried again to hold her hand, but she, who had lost her posture and temper, suddenly raised her hand and slapped him in face and then pushed him with both hands with all the energy that she could gather, and then started running back to where all other hospital employees were. By the time she got there, her anger was uncontrollable. She did not recall herself like this ever. Everyone looked at her; and they all knew by just looking at her that something was wrong. Mary began talking to her, but Anna who did not hear anything of her friend's words kept saying: "I'm going home." And she did left.
Very soon every body in the hospital knew about that incident. Many of them had seen Anna slapping Dr. Mark. He began this rumor that she was the one who approached him; but no one believed him. She tried to change her shift, but that was not possible until the next time that would be time for shift changing. She had the worse days of her life working with him in a same shift. She had to talk to him, act professional, and work with him. She had no way of avoiding him. After consulting with Mary, she decided to go to the Personnel's supervisor and discuss her discomfort working with Mark. It seemed like an investigation and she had no choice but to tell the supervisor the whole story. These kinds of stories were not new to Adam, the supervisor, for he had heard them from other young women in hospital. However because they were short in Pediatrician, and Dr. Mark was a good doctor with a bad personality, and above all they did not want a bad name for the hospital with news flashing every where, the hospital had not done anything about it.
"You just had to learn not to mix you personal problem with your work." Adam said.
"But this is not a personal problem. It is affecting everybody. Why don't you change my shift.?" Anna dared to say.
"We can't do that. This shift can not be changed till the end of the year and you know it."
Anna knew he was right so she learned to work with that circumstance. Even though she hated to leave that hospital, she decided to look for another job. But being busy all the time and working the afternoon shift that according to everyone was the worse shift, and the finishing touches she needed to do to her final writing to graduate, did not give her much of chance to look for another job. Mark was aware of her meeting with Adam; and since nothing had come from that complaint, he found the courage to make improper comments to her even more than before.
One Friday night, only a week before Christmas, when a day of hard work was almost over for her, she prepared all the paper work for the next shift and then grabbed her coat and purse. As always she used the employee's elevator to go to the parking garage, the basement, where her car was parked. It was almost twelve midnight. As she was staring at the red numbers and letters changing overhead of the elevator's door, she remembered the little two years black boy, who had died of leukemia that day. A knot formed in her throat and she questioned God's fairness and justice. After all these year being a nurse, she had not learned, like others, not to let her career affect her personal life. She recalled the boy's parents and his older sister, four years old. They all had cried uncontrollably.
The letter B lightened overhead and the elevator stopped; the door opened, and she walked out. A cold air struck her. She put her coat on. Her blue, now old BMW was parked on Row C, facing the concrete wall. That was her usual parking spot, if it was not taken. The lights were dim and the air was cold. As she walked towards the row C, shifting her heavy purse from one shoulder to the other, she conjured up that working with Dr. Mark that day was for some odd reason had been different. He had been very polite that day. She wondered if he finally had given up intimidating her.
Suddenly she had this feeling that someone was following her. She could not hear any footstep, but she was certain that someone else, besides her, was there, in that empty parking garage. She walked faster. Her heart palpitated. Something was about to happen. Her intuition was never wrong. Next to her car, she looked into her big bag for her car key. As her hand touched the key in the bottom of her purse, she felt a hand on her shoulder. Trembling, she turned to look who it was. Mark with a devilish smile on his face was standing there. She tried to pretend that she was not afraid of him; nevertheless, her shaking knees and body showed otherwise. "What do you want?" Her unsteady voice showed her insecurity.
He did not say anything; instead, he hugged her forcefully and began kissing her like a mad man. She fought back with all the strengths she could gather in that frenzied moment. Her bag fell on the ground. She was desperately trying to run away, but he was too strong for her. He pushed her to the car, holding both her hands, kissing her more. In a despondent and hopeless attempt, she found a little energy to scream for help. "Help, ...help,..."
Her voice echoed in the empty parking garage: "Help,...help,..."
An employee, a man who worked in the utility department of the hospital, just walked out of the elevator, heard her. He started running towards Anna's car, where he could barely see her and Mark. In a few minutes, that seemed like eternity to Anna, he got there and the two man began a punching fist fight, while Anna screaming and running.
She did not remember what happened next. She was back in the hospital. They did not let her to go home that night and kept her for observation. She had bruises in her face When Mark knew that a man was coming to her rescue; and perhaps everything was over for him. Some one had called the police. She had a witness this time. She was physically assaulted but saved from being raped.
In the morning they told her that Dr. Mark was fired and if she wanted to press charges against him. There was still a police man there. Her face was truly banged up by Mark's fist. Someone had called Mary to come since they knew Anna and Mary were friends. Consulting with Mary, and also Mr. Adam, the supervisor, and even the policeman, she decided not to press charges. The hospital did not want to be in the front pages of the newspapers. Besides it would take too much of her instead of adding anything to her life. They recommended her to change her apartment and to get an unlisted phone number for security. They and she did not want Mark to find out where she lived.
She wanted to put an end to this long, ongoing distress and anguish. There was no need to dignify the degenerate man. He would probably enjoy the courtroom with all the embarrassment. To ignore a man like him was the best action she could take. Mr. Adam promised her that he would not give a good rating to Mark if another employer wanted to hire him. That was satisfactory to her weather Adam would keep his world or not. In the final analysis, Anna decided that he was not worthy at all for anyone to even consider taking him to court. Silence and ignorance were her best Cure.
To Be Continued
Anna frowned and said in her speaking mine: "I am not walking fast. You are too fat." However she ignored him and continued walking. He caught up with her and tried to walk in her pace. She did not know what is the proper way to get rid of a man like him, who worked the same shift and practically was her boss. She decided to just ignore him; nonetheless, his walking next to him was so irritating to her that she was about to explode.
"What do you want from me? I prefer to walk alone." She finally said in a rude manner.
Suddenly he held her hand and brought her to a sudden halt to face her. "I like you. I want to go out with you."
Anna pulled her hand out of his. Her eyes were fiery, her face was red, and she did not know how to control her anger.
"I've told you many times that I'm not interested. If you don't leave me alone, I..." She could not finish her sentence. Anger had made her numb. He tried again to hold her hand, but she, who had lost her posture and temper, suddenly raised her hand and slapped him in face and then pushed him with both hands with all the energy that she could gather, and then started running back to where all other hospital employees were. By the time she got there, her anger was uncontrollable. She did not recall herself like this ever. Everyone looked at her; and they all knew by just looking at her that something was wrong. Mary began talking to her, but Anna who did not hear anything of her friend's words kept saying: "I'm going home." And she did left.
Very soon every body in the hospital knew about that incident. Many of them had seen Anna slapping Dr. Mark. He began this rumor that she was the one who approached him; but no one believed him. She tried to change her shift, but that was not possible until the next time that would be time for shift changing. She had the worse days of her life working with him in a same shift. She had to talk to him, act professional, and work with him. She had no way of avoiding him. After consulting with Mary, she decided to go to the Personnel's supervisor and discuss her discomfort working with Mark. It seemed like an investigation and she had no choice but to tell the supervisor the whole story. These kinds of stories were not new to Adam, the supervisor, for he had heard them from other young women in hospital. However because they were short in Pediatrician, and Dr. Mark was a good doctor with a bad personality, and above all they did not want a bad name for the hospital with news flashing every where, the hospital had not done anything about it.
"You just had to learn not to mix you personal problem with your work." Adam said.
"But this is not a personal problem. It is affecting everybody. Why don't you change my shift.?" Anna dared to say.
"We can't do that. This shift can not be changed till the end of the year and you know it."
Anna knew he was right so she learned to work with that circumstance. Even though she hated to leave that hospital, she decided to look for another job. But being busy all the time and working the afternoon shift that according to everyone was the worse shift, and the finishing touches she needed to do to her final writing to graduate, did not give her much of chance to look for another job. Mark was aware of her meeting with Adam; and since nothing had come from that complaint, he found the courage to make improper comments to her even more than before.
One Friday night, only a week before Christmas, when a day of hard work was almost over for her, she prepared all the paper work for the next shift and then grabbed her coat and purse. As always she used the employee's elevator to go to the parking garage, the basement, where her car was parked. It was almost twelve midnight. As she was staring at the red numbers and letters changing overhead of the elevator's door, she remembered the little two years black boy, who had died of leukemia that day. A knot formed in her throat and she questioned God's fairness and justice. After all these year being a nurse, she had not learned, like others, not to let her career affect her personal life. She recalled the boy's parents and his older sister, four years old. They all had cried uncontrollably.
The letter B lightened overhead and the elevator stopped; the door opened, and she walked out. A cold air struck her. She put her coat on. Her blue, now old BMW was parked on Row C, facing the concrete wall. That was her usual parking spot, if it was not taken. The lights were dim and the air was cold. As she walked towards the row C, shifting her heavy purse from one shoulder to the other, she conjured up that working with Dr. Mark that day was for some odd reason had been different. He had been very polite that day. She wondered if he finally had given up intimidating her.
Suddenly she had this feeling that someone was following her. She could not hear any footstep, but she was certain that someone else, besides her, was there, in that empty parking garage. She walked faster. Her heart palpitated. Something was about to happen. Her intuition was never wrong. Next to her car, she looked into her big bag for her car key. As her hand touched the key in the bottom of her purse, she felt a hand on her shoulder. Trembling, she turned to look who it was. Mark with a devilish smile on his face was standing there. She tried to pretend that she was not afraid of him; nevertheless, her shaking knees and body showed otherwise. "What do you want?" Her unsteady voice showed her insecurity.
He did not say anything; instead, he hugged her forcefully and began kissing her like a mad man. She fought back with all the strengths she could gather in that frenzied moment. Her bag fell on the ground. She was desperately trying to run away, but he was too strong for her. He pushed her to the car, holding both her hands, kissing her more. In a despondent and hopeless attempt, she found a little energy to scream for help. "Help, ...help,..."
Her voice echoed in the empty parking garage: "Help,...help,..."
An employee, a man who worked in the utility department of the hospital, just walked out of the elevator, heard her. He started running towards Anna's car, where he could barely see her and Mark. In a few minutes, that seemed like eternity to Anna, he got there and the two man began a punching fist fight, while Anna screaming and running.
She did not remember what happened next. She was back in the hospital. They did not let her to go home that night and kept her for observation. She had bruises in her face When Mark knew that a man was coming to her rescue; and perhaps everything was over for him. Some one had called the police. She had a witness this time. She was physically assaulted but saved from being raped.
In the morning they told her that Dr. Mark was fired and if she wanted to press charges against him. There was still a police man there. Her face was truly banged up by Mark's fist. Someone had called Mary to come since they knew Anna and Mary were friends. Consulting with Mary, and also Mr. Adam, the supervisor, and even the policeman, she decided not to press charges. The hospital did not want to be in the front pages of the newspapers. Besides it would take too much of her instead of adding anything to her life. They recommended her to change her apartment and to get an unlisted phone number for security. They and she did not want Mark to find out where she lived.
She wanted to put an end to this long, ongoing distress and anguish. There was no need to dignify the degenerate man. He would probably enjoy the courtroom with all the embarrassment. To ignore a man like him was the best action she could take. Mr. Adam promised her that he would not give a good rating to Mark if another employer wanted to hire him. That was satisfactory to her weather Adam would keep his world or not. In the final analysis, Anna decided that he was not worthy at all for anyone to even consider taking him to court. Silence and ignorance were her best Cure.
To Be Continued
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