Still.
How could a son betray his father? She stopped pacing and raised her palm to her forehead. When had their lives sunk to this level?
Nouri was still at his mother’s, but the television was on. A couple accused of adultery was being beaten in a Tehran square. Hundreds of onlookers cheered. Anna shut the TV off and slowly climbed the stairs.
Thirty-eight
By May Tehran was seared with the now familiar summer heat. The morning sun blazed through the window, waking Anna. Nouri was already gone, but a note told her that Laleh was on the way over. Nouri was spending more time with his mother, helping her adjust to their altered lifestyle. Men still barged in unexpectedly to take items from the house, but for some reason, they allowed Parvin and Laleh to remain. Anna thought she knew why.
As she climbed out of bed, a wave of nausea overwhelmed her. She stumbled to the bathroom and threw up. Afterwards, she tried to remember what she’d eaten the night before. Nothing unusual. In fact she hadn’t had much of an appetite for some time. When she opened the bathroom cabinet for a sponge, she came across her tampons and realized she hadn’t had a period for several months. She jerked back.
Oh god, not now, she thought. She didn’t move for a moment, then finished cleaning up, showered, and dressed. She felt jittery and unsettled. How could she be pregnant? She and Nouri barely had sex. She was chewing a bit of lavash when she remembered the night he’d forced himself on her. She’d begged him to stop. He hadn’t. A muscle in her jaw pulsed. She’d wanted children of her own for as long as she could remember. But not like this, not from a rape.
She slumped on the sofa, watching long rectangles of sunlight creep across the room. She lost all sense of time, and when someone knocked on the door, she didn’t know if two minutes, or two hours, had passed. She rose to her feet, feeling sluggish and thick. She went to the door, thinking it was Laleh. She couldn’t tell her. It had to remain a secret, until she figured out what to do.
She opened the door to Hassan.
“Is Nouri here?” he asked.
Anna was carrying so much tension in her neck and back she felt bowed over. At the same time, her gut roiled with emotion. She gripped the edge of the door. “He’s at his mother’s. She’s going crazy, you know. Ever since Bijan was taken. She still doesn’t know which prison he’s been taken to. And the house had been stripped of all their valuables. For the Foundation.” Her eyes bored into Hassan, defying the decree not to make eye contact with a man.
Hassan returned a circumspect gaze. “I am sorry to hear that. But I really must talk to him. It’s…it’s important.”
Enough, Anna thought. This two-step of duplicity had to end. “Stop pretending. You’re not sorry, Hassan. Not one bit.”
He flicked his eyes away from her and shifted his feet.
“You’re the one who persuaded Nouri to betray his father. To make sure all their belongings were confiscated. You hated the fact that Bijan was wealthy, didn’t you?”
“It is not true. You are wrong, Anna.”
“I don’t believe you. You were…are…jealous of Nouri, because he hasn’t suffered like you. You wanted retribution. So you threatened him and forced him to denounce his family.” She paused. “What did Nouri—and his family—ever do to you except show you love?”
Hassan’s gaze returned to Anna. His eyes were veiled, but Anna sensed deep emotion. “You seem very sure of yourself,” he said softly.
She was. For the first time, she was ready to cast off the wariness, the worrying, the measuring. She relished the opportunity to speak the truth, to let her spirit fly, limber and free. “You wanted to ruin my marriage. Well, you succeeded. You wanted to get back at Nouri. Congratulations. You’ve turned him into a monster.”
“You are quick to blame me, Anna. Do you not think you should look elsewhere? Perhaps you should examine what your role has been in…,” he waved a hand, “…all this.”
“I don’t need to. We both know Nouri is…impressionable. Malleable. You took advantage of that.” She folded her arms. “Better than I did, in fact.”
“You give me too much credit,” he said again in a soft voice. His dark eyes went flat.
Now it was Anna’s turn to be suspicious. What was he trying to say?
“You should not make wild accusations,” he persisted. “You have not had trouble because you are Nouri’s wife. But you should be careful. That could change.”
A bolt of fear streaked up her spine and, for an instant, her composure slipped. She forced it back. “You know something, Hassan? You don’t scare me. Get out of my house. I never want to see you again.”
*****
A few days later, Farrokhroo Parsa—the only woman ever to serve as an Iranian cabinet minister—was executed by firing squad. Parsa, a champion of women’s rights, had been Minister of Education before the revolution. She was arrested for “spreading vice on Earth and fighting God,” a trumped up charge, one of many the Council of the Islamic Revolution was fond of inventing. Shortly afterwards, the government announced that all the universities would close in June to purge academia of Western and non-Islamic influences.
Anna remembered Charlie talking about Parsa, how dedicated she was, what a fine example she set for Iranian women. Now she was dead, and Charlie was still being held hostage.
A cloud of despair settled over Anna. Her morning sickness was persisting, and her breasts had grown tender. Without a doubt she was pregnant. But she didn’t know if she wanted it. She needed someone to talk to. Someone to advise her. Charlie would have known what to do. She bit her lip. She prayed Charlie was still alive.
Anna tried to think who else she could turn to. Laleh was obviously out of the question. She remembered Peter Deutsch, the man from the Swiss Embassy. She doubted he could, or would help. He would probably tell her that, once the baby was born, it would be an Iranian citizen, subject to the same rules about leaving the country as she. It didn’t matter in any event. She had no way to contact him. Someone was always watching over her.
Laleh arrived and went up to the third floor. She was probably going out on the roof. Anna didn’t follow her; she had no desire to chat. Instead she walked out to the patio and dipped her toes in the tiny pool. She made circles with her feet, first in one direction, then the other. She was a prisoner in a foreign country, a country that was marching backwards in time, a country that hated Americans. She’d thought Iran would be the answer to her prayers, her dream come true. But now, once more, she was alone.
She stopped circling her toes. What about Roya? At first it didn’t seem like a good idea. Roya had embraced Shariah law. Anna wasn’t sure, but she suspected abortion was taboo for Muslims. Probably a mortal sin. Roya wouldn’t consider it. Even Anna was unsure how she felt about it. Right now she’d probably do it, but what about later? Maybe as the baby grew and came alive in her belly, she’d be more willing to be its mother. She didn’t want to do something she’d regret. Still, if there was even a slim chance Roya could help her in some other way, perhaps to leave Nouri, or hide her until the baby was born, shouldn’t she take the chance? It was not like she had any other options.
She decided to ask Nouri to let Roya visit. His threat to take another wife had, so far, been just that, but he would approve of Roya’s visit. He might even think Anna herself was finally coming around, ready to assume the role of the meek Islamic wife. She prepared what to say to Nouri. How to smile shyly and beg his indulgence. Appeal to his ego. It might work. She stood up, dried her feet, and went up to her room, feeling a tiny sliver of hope.
Anna was napping when she was awakened by loud voices from downstairs. She crept to the top of the staircase. Nouri and Laleh were arguing. Bitterly. Both their faces were crimson. They were speaking very rapidly in Farsi, so Anna couldn’t pick up much. She could tell Laleh was cursing, and Nouri replied by calling her a whore. Anna was so tired of the incessant fighting that she clapped her hands over her ears. She could still hear the shouts. Final
ly she yelled out.
“Stop it! Both of you! Stop arguing!”
Nouri spun around. He was scowling, his eyes hard, and his face was unusually creased. Anger seemed to pour off him. “How dare you interfere? Stay out of this.”
While he was yelling, Laleh slipped out the front door, her bag on her shoulder. Anna couldn’t blame her. Nouri looked wild, out of control.
When Nouri realized Laleh had gone, he ran to the door and yelled after her. There was no response. Then he turned and raced up the steps two at a time. At the top of the staircase he grabbed Anna’s shoulders with both hands and squeezed them so hard it was painful. “And you!” He emphasized the word. “Why are the women in this family so insolent? What did you say to Hassan?” His voice was laced with fury.
“What do you mean?”
He sucked in a breath, as if he couldn’t believe she had the nerve to ask the question. “The other day,” he seethed, “you accused him of brainwashing me. You forbade him to come to the house. Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”
Anna was exhausted. His rage was like a deep pool with no bottom. She let it float over her. “No. Tell me.”
Nouri squeezed her shoulders harder. She tried to shake him off, but his fingers dug into her skin. “Let go. You’re hurting me, Nouri.”
“Do you know how much power Hassan has? You have done enormous damage. You have ruined my relationship with him. Jeopardized our safety. And the family’s.”
“Me? I’ve put the family in jeopardy? Ever since Baba-joon was arrested, your family has fallen apart. Maman-joon has gone crazy. Laleh is useless. Tell me something, Nouri. Why was Baba arrested? Of the thousands of people who were associated with the shah, why him? Why now?”
Nouri glared at her, but the pressure on her shoulders lessened. She shook him off and backed up.
“I know you’ve been working for the Foundation. I know you betrayed your father. Your own father, Nouri. The man who gave you life.”
For an instant Nouri looked stunned, and Anna knew she was right. But then his eyes bulged out, his lips tightened, and his features twisted into a mask of rage. He grabbed her again and dragged her to the steps. She felt hot breath on her face. He was so frenzied he was panting.
Her pulse raced, but she wouldn’t stop until she’d said it all. “As for Hassan, he’s no friend of yours. He engineered your arrest. And your job for the Foundation. He might have power, but he’s used that power to turn you into something ugly and cruel. The evil jinns you are so quick to say are inside me? They live in your soul, Nouri. You’ve become a monster.”
Nouri seized her again and shook her back and forth. Her head swung back and forth like a rag doll. He yanked her to the top of the staircase. She was sure he was going to push her down the steps. She would break her neck.
“You deserve to be put to death for your lies,” he shouted. “Arrested and killed or executed or…” He glanced down the steps, then back at her.
Her heart hammered in her chest. Somehow she summoned up the strength to stay calm. “Or what? Go ahead. Kill me, Nouri. But you should know if you do, you will be killing your own child.”
He froze, his hands still clutching her shoulders.
“It’s the truth. I’m pregnant, Nouri. Kill me and you’ll be two for two. Your father and your child.”
He raised his hand. He was either going to strike her or shove her down the stairs. Either way, she wouldn’t survive. She watched his hand. He saw her watching. He hesitated for an instant, then lowered his arm. “You will say anything to get what you want.”
He pulled her into the bedroom and threw her down on the bed. He pinned her down with one hand and pressed down on her chest. With the other he started tearing at her shorts.
She struggled to escape. “Stop. Nouri. Don’t!”
He ignored her. Her shorts ripped. Then he went to work on her panties. As they tore, he grunted and unbuttoned his pants. Panic lodged in her throat.
“It’s over Nouri. There’s nothing left.”
“It is over when I say it is,” he hissed.
When he was finished, he rolled off her, spent, and fell asleep. She picked herself up off the bed and went into the bathroom. Afterwards, she went down to the kitchen. At that time of the day she’d normally be cooking dinner, but tonight she couldn’t even consider it. Husband or not, she would not feed a man who had raped her. As she left the kitchen, she noticed one of her steak knives was missing from the wooden block on the counter. She made a half-hearted attempt to find it, but it wasn’t in the drawers or the dishwasher. She couldn’t worry about it now. She was too miserable.
*****
Nouri woke two hours later and came downstairs in pants and an undershirt, demanding dinner. Anna told him there was none. He glared at her, then ordered her to iron his shirt. She refused.
“There is something you need to understand, Nouri. I don’t want this baby. I do not want a child to endure this…hell. Not in this house. Not in this family. Not in Iran. Do you understand, Nouri? Do you?”
For an instant his shell cracked, and Anna saw a profound sorrow spread across his face. Then the crack disappeared and his features realigned themselves into his usual mask of sullen indifference. He rose from the table, grabbed his shirt, and stormed out.
It was the last time she would see him, but she didn’t know it then. She washed the dishes from breakfast, stacked them in the drain board. She rested her head in her hands. Felt the tears roll down her cheeks. Then she went upstairs. She was glad for the silence and peace, however fleeting. She changed into her nightclothes and went to bed.
PART THREE
Thirty-nine
Whenever the words “Evin Prison” were mentioned during a conversation, a hush descended. Iranians fidgeted, looked anxious, tried to change the subject. Years ago, the property occupied by the prison had belonged to a pro-Western prime minister. After his death, the estate passed to the shah, and SAVAK turned it into a prison for criminals and political prisoners. Evin officials were known to treat inmates harshly, doling out punishments that included torture. Many went in, few came out. It became the most feared place in Iran. After the overthrow of the shah, the management of Evin fell to the Revolutionary Guards and it became even more brutal.
Still, Evin was a study in contrasts. Nestled in the foothills of the Alborz Mountains, the prison wasn’t far from Shemiran. Anna had driven by many times when returning from central Tehran. And the fact that it was once an estate gave it a patina of elegance. Of course, the buildings were “remodeled,” with a thick wall now surrounding them. But the grounds, sprawled across a few acres, were known to be dotted with trees, and the prison yard was clean.
When the Guards came in the middle of the night to arrest her for Nouri’s murder, Anna knew without asking that she would be taken to Evin. It was the closest prison to the house, and it was the place that everyone had nightmares about. The Guards who came to the door were armed not only with machine guns but wore knives on their waistbands. One brandished the steak knife from America. They wouldn’t let her touch it, but they claimed the rusty brown spots on the blade were Nouri’s blood.
They ordered her to get dressed and cover herself with her chador. Then they cuffed her wrists and dragged her out to the black Mercedes. Anna followed their orders without protest. For some reason she couldn’t summon up the fear she knew she should. She wasn’t sure whether she was in shock or if it was something else, but once they were on their way, her hands rested placidly in her lap. She almost smiled, anticipating how she would tell them that the steak knife was from the Great Satan’s factories. She wondered if they would drop it like a red-hot poker. At the same time, she noted the irony of her plight—given what was probably coming, this might be the last time she found anything humorous.
It was a short ride. They turned onto a narrow twisting road, then drove through a gate. Night painted the property in a swath of black. In daylight the walls were sandy, Anna recalled. Now
the blackness was slashed by the sharp white beam of spotlights, strategically placed near the prison buildings. Armed guards were stationed every few yards. The enormity of her situation settled over her. She was going in. The question was whether she would ever come out.
The men who brought her slipped a blindfold over her eyes, and hauled her out of the car. One seized her arm and marched her across an open space. A courtyard, perhaps? It was the height of summer and still hot, but the night breeze raised goose bumps on her skin. Anna tried to count the steps to the entrance, and, once inside, down the hall. But they made too many twists and turns, and she lost count. Finally, they pushed her against a wall and pressed down on her shoulders. She dropped awkwardly to a stone floor. She could just make out a thin ribbon of light below the blindfold, and she had the impression of boots. Someone ordered her not to move. They spoke in Farsi, but that much she understood.
She leaned her head against a wall and tried to get her bearings. The smells—body odor, urine, and, for some reason, onions—assailed her, but another odor, acrid and salty, was layered over them. The smell of fear. She breathed through her mouth. What tightened her stomach, though, were the sounds. The shuffling of boots. The snap of a whip followed by a piercing scream. Mysterious thwacks, doors being slammed, the cries of people begging for mercy.
Anna shivered. Unfamiliar sensations coursed through her. The cool hard floor was comforting one instant, unbearable the next. Was she sick? Was it the pregnancy? She wondered if this was how Nouri felt when he was arrested. Her earlier bravery vanished. She’d been a fool to imagine she could survive this.
Nouri. Nouri was dead. Living with him had been hell for the past six months, but before, when they’d first connected, she’d never loved anyone more. And been loved in return. She remembered how they’d met in the bookstore. Their year in Chicago. How he couldn’t keep his hands off her. How she felt the same way. She doubted she would ever love anyone with the same abandon. God, or Allah—or whoever decided these things—had given her a chance. But then he’d destroyed it. She lowered her head. Despite the anger—no, the hate—she and Nouri had shared, Anna felt a hot tear roll down her cheek.
A Bitter Veil Page 22
