A Bitter Veil

by Libby Fischer Hellmann

  Nouri followed through with his threats. He made sure Anna could not leave the house by herself. Consequently, he was home more, and made life miserable for Anna. He took to changing his clothes several times a day, and ordered her to iron his shirts and pants. A tiny wrinkle sent him into spasms of rage. Anna suspected it took more energy to demean her and keep her isolated than to do whatever it was he did outside the house. Even so, her home had become a prison.

  One morning Laleh came over. She now wore a manteau—a sort of overcoat—on the street, but underneath she was dressed in a tank top and hot pants. Nouri scowled, but Anna was thrilled to see her; it meant Nouri would be going out.

  “Laleh will stay here while I’m gone,” he said as he went to the door. “I have given her strict instructions. If you disobey her, you will pay the price.”

  Once he was gone, Laleh turned to her. “What did you do to him? I’ve never seen him like this.”

  “It’s not me, Laleh. I swear it,” Anna said. “He’s keeping me prisoner.”

  Laleh planted her hands on her hips. “I don’t believe you. Why would he do that? You are lying.”

  Anna’s jaw clenched. Had Nouri turned the entire world against her? She weighed the risk of explaining, decided she had to try. At this point Laleh was her only hope. “Laleh, please. You must believe me. I’ve done nothing. I need help. I’m desperate.”

  Laleh sniffed. “Nouri told me you’d say that. He said you’d try to convince me to help you escape.” She looked around, as if seeing their house for the first time, and sighed. “But I suppose I can’t blame you. This country is a hellhole. I am leaving myself.”

  “How is that possible? Don’t you need written permission?”

  “Until I am eighteen Baba must give it. But after that…” She flashed a conspiratorial smile. “My birthday is quite soon.”

  “Where are you going? How will you live?”

  “I’ll go to London. To join Shaheen.”

  “But your mother…she’ll go crazy.”

  Laleh shrugged.

  A sharp pain throbbed in Anna’s temples. If Laleh could leave, why couldn’t she? It wasn’t fair. She had no one to fight for her, no one in her corner. The family she wanted to cherish had become her enemy. She’d never felt so alone.

  “I’m going upstairs.” She stopped on the second floor and paused. Then she continued up to the third floor. She opened the door to the roof and stepped out. She walked to the edge and peered down over the cement patio, the chenar tree, the alley beyond. She could end it right now. Just one leap and it would be over.

  As she took in a breath, the phone inside trilled. Evidently Nouri trusted Laleh not to let her, Anna, use it in his absence. She heard Laleh pick up. The conversation was muffled, but a moment later, Laleh raced up the stairs to the roof. Her face was white, her eyes wide with panic.

  “What’s wrong?” Anna asked.

  “That was Maman-joon. We must go home. They’ve taken Baba!”

  *****

  “We…we were having tea outside, enjoying the spring morning.” Maman-joon sobbed, huddled on the living room sofa. Anna hadn’t seen Parvin in months. Her hair was much grayer, the lines on her forehead deeper, her face more gaunt. “A car swerved up to the gate. Three men got out and banged on it. I went to open it. They…they were in uniforms. And…and they were aiming machine guns at me.” Her face was tight with anguish. “They could have killed me.”

  “What color were their uniforms?” Anna asked.

  Parvin ignored Anna’s question, and swiveled towards Laleh. She spread her hands. “I had to let them in. I had no choice.”

  Laleh pointed to Anna. “The uniforms, Maman. She wants to know if they were Guards. Were their uniforms dark green?”

  “Yes. No. Two were green, I think. One brown. I really don’t remember.” Parvin wouldn’t make eye contact with Anna.

  Laleh nodded. “Then what?”

  “They were scruffy. They had beards. And they smelled bad. They demanded to see Baba. I told them to wait. They said no, that I must let them come with me. They warned me not to tell Baba they were here or they would shoot me.” She shivered.

  “They were afraid he would escape.”

  “They said they would take us both unless I cooperated.” Parvin covered her face with her hands. “What could I do?” Her tears tracked tiny rivulets down her cheeks.

  Laleh put her arm around her mother, but Parvin shook her off.

  “So they…they stalked up to the house. Baba had gone inside. I didn’t know why until he came back out. He was carrying a knife.”

  Laleh gasped. Anna swallowed.

  “Then they shouted, ‘You are Bijan Samedi?’ ‘Who are you’ he shouted back. They trained their machine guns on him. Ay vây! They were going to shoot him! I begged them to stop. ‘We have orders to arrest you for crimes committed against the Islamic Republic,’ they yelled. ‘Drop the knife now. If you make even one move against us, you are a dead man.’”

  “Oh, god. What did Baba do?” Laleh asked.

  “He froze. The men racked their guns.” Another shudder ran through Maman-joon.

  Anna imagined Baba debating what to do. Weighing whether he could take them. Knowing it was impossible. Deciding whether to make the attempt anyway and die trying.

  “Finally Bijan threw down the knife,” Parvin said. “One of them picked it up and stuffed it into his waistband. I hope it slashes his guts.” She spit on the floor. “Then they put handcuffs on Bijan and dragged him out. That was the last I saw of him.” Her face crumpled again, as if the pain of recounting the story was too overwhelming. Her body was wracked by sobs.

  “Where did they take him?” Laleh asked.

  “I don’t know.” Her voice cracked. She got up, and went into the kitchen. She came back with a glass of water and a pill, which she swallowed. She drank the water. “Whatever shall we do? Where is Nouri?” Her voice was shrill.

  “We left a note at home,” Anna said. “I’m sure he’ll be here soon.”

  Again Parvin ignored her.

  “Did they take anything?” Laleh asked. “Besides Baba?”

  “Isn’t that enough?” Maman-joon started to mutter. “The evil eye is all around us. It has cursed us. I knew it would happen.” She glared at Anna.

  Laleh, sitting beside her mother, laced and unlaced her fingers. Anna wanted to tell her to put her arm around Parvin again. Her mother needed comfort. But Laleh just sat, and Anna couldn’t say anything. If Anna tried to soothe her mother-in-law Parvin would probably slap her. The three of them were silent for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts. Then a clanging sound rang out from the patio.

  Parvin jerked back. “Now what?” Anna and Laleh exchanged looks. Parvin slumped against the sofa.

  “I’ll go,” Laleh said.

  “No.” Parvin gestured towards Anna. “Let her.”

  Of course, Anna thought. If anyone was to be put in danger, it should be her. She went outside, crossed the patio, and walked to the gate. Three men were training machine guns on her. They all had beards, and they wore brown uniforms. Not Guards. Still, they yelled at her to open the gate.

  “Chee Shode? What’s wrong?” she asked in Farsi.

  “We are from the Martyrs’ Foundation. We command you to open the gate.”

  Anna had heard of this organization. Created by Khomeini a year earlier, its mission was to confiscate property belonging to the shah’s family and his associates. The idea was to help people who had suffered under the shah. Kind of an institutional Robin Hood. In and of itself, it wasn’t a bad idea, Anna thought. It appealed to her sense of justice. But she had never been the target of their activities. And there was the question of whether the largesse really did go to the poor or ended up in the pockets of the mullahs. Whatever the reality, she had no choice. She had to open the gate.

  The men tramped into the house. Laleh and Parvin cowered on the sofa. “We are here to confiscate the property in this house. You will
stay in this room while we work,” one of the men pronounced.

  “What’s going to happen to us?” Anna asked.

  “Your family was allied with the shah. Your possessions are therefore corrupt. We must cleanse the house and return your stolen wealth to its rightful owners.”

  “Ay vây!” Parvin’s hands flew to her head. “They did this to the Golzars the other day. The Hemmatis too. They had to leave Tehran!”

  “Are we going to have to leave the house?” Anna asked one of the men.

  “We will see. If you renounce your wicked ways you may be allowed to remain.”

  Anna’s nerves throbbed with dread, but she tried to stay calm. She turned to Laleh, whose face was now ashen. Parvin bowed her head, refusing to make eye contact with the men. Anna attempted to reassure the women. “Don’t worry,” she whispered. “I’m sure they won’t hurt us.” She hoped it was the truth.

  As the men climbed the stairs, Laleh grimaced and raised her chin toward the staircase. Anna knew what she was worried about. Her records, makeup, books, and magazines. All things that were now forbidden. What would they do when they found them? For the first time since Anna had known her, panic unfolded across Laleh’s face. Her body went limp, as if she was waiting to be punished. Or worse. Parvin still wouldn’t look up, but her shoulders heaved with silent sobs.

  The men clomped from room to room occasionally issuing a cry of triumph as they ransacked the Samedis’ belongings. Anna wished she could monitor what they were taking. It was impossible to stay in the living room as though she and her in-laws were simply drinking afternoon tea.

  Twenty minutes later, two men descended the steps. The arms of one were loaded with several bags, each overflowing with clothes, books, and shoes. The other man carried Parvin’s jewelry box. It wasn’t entirely closed; gold chains and bracelets spilled over the top.

  Laleh looked horrified. “You’re stealing our things! Put them back!”

  The men laughed and carried the loot out. Then they came back in and went to work on the first floor. They confiscated gold-framed photos of the family: Bijan with Parvin, the family together. They took the paintings that hung on the walls; most of them abstract oils the Samedis had purchased in Europe. They raided Baba-joon’s office and came out with files, documents, and more photos. Back in the living room they seized books from the shelves, most of them first editions. They pocketed some of them, and flung the rest on the floor. They grabbed the turquoise peacock that sat on the mantle. One of them inspected it, then smashed it on the floor. He picked up the pieces and threw them into his bag. They stole candlesticks, cloisonné bowls, even the family’s silverware.

  “Please!” Laleh jumped up from the sofa. “This is all we have.”

  One of the men waved her away. “Don’t give me this chert-o-pert. Bullshit. People like you have already sent your money to Swiss bank accounts. Maybe you’ve even bought a house in America.”

  Laleh raised her arms in supplication. “No. You’re wrong. Lotfan. Please. Where is my father?”

  “He conspired against the Supreme Leader and the revolution. He will be tried and, if he is convicted, he will be executed.” The man sneered.

  Parvin gasped. “Nakhayr! No!”

  Anna chimed in. “My father-in-law is a well-respected man. By people from all walks of life. Komak! Help us!”

  “Your father-in-law helped the shah exploit the people. Tell me. Where was he during the revolution?” The man’s tone was scathing.

  “But…,” Anna gestured to the bags of loot, “…what are you going to do with all this? Where are you taking it?”

  “It is none of your concern.” He glanced around. “We will be back. Maybe tomorrow.”

  The man started toward the door, but stopped at Anna and Nouri’s wedding album, which was still lying on a shelf. He picked it up and started thumbing through the pictures. The second man joined him. They thumbed through the photos, glanced at Anna, then back at the album. The first one snapped it shut and shoved it under his arm.

  “Lotfan. Please.” Anna begged them. “They’re from our wedding.”

  “Lots of big shots there, no?” The men cackled.

  Anna didn’t know whether to be embarrassed or enraged. Even though she had a copy of the album at home, they were invading her life. Stealing her memories.

  When they finally left, Laleh and Parvin remained on the couch, huddled together, looking shell-shocked. Anna tried to pull herself together and made tea. Parvin refused to drink.

  “I have an idea,” Laleh said. “Come with me.” Anna followed her into Bijan’s office where Laleh pushed against a section of wall behind the desk. A panel sprang open revealing a hidden compartment, in which, among other things, a bottle of bourbon was stowed. Laleh took the bottle, poured a shot, and tossed it down. She poured another and offered it to Anna, who shook her head.

  “When was that built?” she asked Laleh.

  “The secret wall? Oh, Baba had it done a long time ago. Lots of Iranian families have them. They’re better than a wall safe for valuables. Especially these days. You need—” She suddenly stopped, as though she’d just realized she’d said too much.

  Anna caught the slip. “Need to what?”

  “Nothing.”

  “What were you going to say?” Anna persisted.

  Laleh shook her head, closed the safe, and took the bourbon back into the living room. She offered some to her mother but, as with the tea Anna had offered earlier, Parvin refused.

  Anna tightened her lips.

  They were still huddled on the sofa when Nouri arrived. Parvin immediately jumped up and started babbling about Guards, jewelry, and jinns. Anna couldn’t understand her, and apparently, neither could Nouri. He and Anna made eye contact, and he rolled his eyes as though he and she were complicit. For an instant, Anna dared to feel hopeful. Then Anna remembered what Nouri had done to her just a few nights earlier. Did she really want to bond with him now? Was she that desperate for a connection? She looked away.

  Parvin saw the look pass between them and pointed a finger at Anna. “It’s her fault. If you hadn’t brought her into the family, none of this would have happened. She’s evil.”

  To Anna’s surprise, Laleh defended her. “Maman, you’re wrong. I think it was the maid we had last year. You know, the one who always wore hijab? After she quit, I heard a rumor she became active with the komitehs.”

  Anna had a vague recollection of a sullen woman who’d taken her bags upstairs when she first arrived at the Samedis. Laleh could be right. But Parvin denied it and gesticulated wildly. “No. Shahrzad would never betray us. But her…” She motioned to Anna again.

  Nouri’s eyes went cold and he tended to his mother.

  But Parvin couldn’t stop. Without Baba-joon to temper her, her self-control had evaporated. “You’ve ruined my son. Destroyed his life. Ours too. We should never have allowed the marriage to take place.” Her shrill attacks pierced Anna like broken glass. Eventually Parvin sputtered, trailing off into incoherence. She collapsed on the sofa.

  Nouri slid an arm around her. “Maman, do not worry. I am the man of the house now, and I will take care of you. You can move in with us until Baba comes back.”

  Laleh snorted in contempt. “You? The man of the house? After what you’ve done with your life? I think not.”

  Nouri glared at his sister. “Baba was always too lenient with you. From now on, you will do as I say. Do you understand?”

  Laleh kept her mouth shut but her face radiated hostility.

  “But Nouri,” Anna asked. “What if the Foundation comes to our house next?”

  Nouri brushed it off. “They won’t. They’ve had their fill for a while.” He glanced around at the mess. “I’m sure of it.”

  *****

  At home that night, Anna took out their copy of the wedding album and paged through the photos. Only eighteen months had passed, but that had been a different era. Innocent. Nothing but possibilities. Nouri had said she l
ooked like an angel. He would never say that now. She studied the photos of the two of them with his parents. It was subtle, but Parvin seemed to be leaning away from Anna in the photos. Did she disapprove of Anna even then?

  She flipped through photos of the guests at their tables, recalling the hours Parvin spent on the seating arrangements. She didn’t remember many of the guests’ names, but she did remember each seemed to be more important than the next. The minister of this, the chief of that. All of them well-heeled, sophisticated, wealthy. All of them associates of the shah.

  Suddenly, she inhaled sharply. The Golzars. The Hemmatis. All friends of the Samedis. All had their property confiscated. And yet Nouri said the Foundation wouldn’t bother them. She snapped the book shut, recalling his conversation with Hassan a few nights earlier. They had been talking about doing something to Baba-joon and the house. Hassan had said they needed to know that he, Nouri, was with them. Is that what Nouri was doing? Working for the Martyrs’ Foundation? Identifying people whose houses and wealth should be confiscated? He knew many wealthy Iranians—Iranians who were associates of the shah—he’d grown up with them.

  Like a snowball that gets bigger as you roll it along, the idea gathered force. Anna got up and started to pace. Her husband could have become an informant. Hassan might have goaded him into it. She could almost hear Hassan: either inform or be branded a traitor. An enemy of the revolution.

  She kept pacing. So Nouri had turned on his own parents. Allowed their things to be stolen. How could he? She tried to be charitable. What would have happened if he’d refused? Would he have been hauled off to Evin Prison? Maybe his arrest last summer was a warning. Either shape up or else. Maybe Nouri didn’t have a choice. She tried to imagine what she would have done in his position. He was in a no-win situation. Like Odysseus choosing to sail between Scylla and Charybdis.