“Have you heard from Patrick?” Walter changed the subject.
“Nope, but if I hear from him I will tell him to get in touch. Listen, if this is all you have to worry about then I better go and sort out my own problems, if you don’t mind. Give my love to the ladies.”
“Alright. Good night Henrik and thank you!”
Chapter 17: Monday
At 1am Hanna woke from a dreadful nightmare. Although she recovered quickly once she realised it had only been a dream, she was still unable to fall back to sleep. After a while she gave up and went to the living room to find some entertainment. She worried that watching TV would wake her mother up and so she switched on Karim’s laptop and surfed the net.
Her browsing focused quickly on the more esoteric and spiritual sites for local tarot readers and healers. She was amazed when, by chance, she came across one particular page by a healer and hypnotherapist who claimed to have made a breakthrough in the treatment of many diseases, and one part of his website was dedicated solely to his revolutionary success with a patient suffering from Alzheimer’s disease.
He described in great length a few sessions he had completed with an old war veteran who was suffering from memory loss. Under deep hypnosis, the man had been asked to go back to an earlier and happy time in his life and allegedly had regressed to his childhood. During this time he displayed a complete reversal of all the symptoms of the illness. According to the story on the web, the client was able to make sense and follow a thought through for the first time in months. As the therapist progressed with the session he gradually encouraged his patient to approach a time where his problems had started. Not surprisingly, this led to a war time trauma, a painful memory which the therapist now pointed to as the possible and likely cause for the disease.
The wording carefully avoided any claim to heal the condition, but it heavily implied possible improvement of the symptoms and a happier state of being. As tempted and open to the concept as she was, even Hanna could not quite believe the story. She found it hard to imagine that a traumatic event hidden in her mother’s past had caused her to develop the disease. To think that Alzheimer’s disease was nothing more than the subconscious blocking out an unwanted memory seemed too simplistic and almost stigmatising, accusing the victims of simply hiding a dark moment in their past.
She decided to go back to her room. Worrying about her mother was sometimes just as destructive as the painful thoughts about her own demons and visions of Mrs White on the plane. She managed to fall back to sleep but quickly woke from yet another unpleasant dream. After more tossing and turning in bed she admitted defeat and got up again. It was not even 6am, she had to do something and noticing that it was a bright full moon outside she decided to go for a very early run. Exercise was always good to clear one’s head and to gain perspective.
The roads were quiet and empty. The rush of endorphins helped her to cheer up and a series of upbeat music tracks on her i-pod during the run lifted her spirits.
She returned to the apartment building long after 6am but there were still no lights on in the flat. Had her father overslept? If he had, was that a good sign or was it bad?
The second the door closed Hanna could hear noises from the master bedroom. She wondered how her father would cope in this new environment. Biddy seemed to have adapted almost too easily, it was her father that Hanna worried about more.
“I can’t believe I overslept,” Walter said as he stormed into the kitchen. “Could you make some coffee? I don’t know where everything is. It is time to get your mother up and I haven’t done anything yet.”
“Dad, we have all the time in the world for breakfast. I am sure Mum will be fine if she gets her toast five minutes later than normal. She may not even notice!”
“Shame the place is so small,” Walter said. “Else you two could have done your exercises while I am getting everything ready.”
“We don’t have to do them every day,” Hanna disagreed. “It might become boring for her.”
“If she got bored with something because she did it yesterday that would be a major breakthrough for us.”
“What I mean is that we don’t have to make every new idea and activity into a routine,” Hanna explained. “That wouldn’t be stimulation or excitement but just a different type of repetition. It’s much better to think of something new instead.”
“She needs her routine.”
Oh dear, the same old argument Hanna thought, but merely said: “Well, that is your opinion.”
Walter shot her a disapproving look and left the room. In the meantime Hanna tried frantically to find the coffee. She should have paid more attention yesterday when Karim showed her round.
She found a cafetiere in the dish washer and the coffee in a very crammed storage cupboard. Walter was noisily rushing about in the bathroom – she didn’t have much time but she succeeded in getting the all-important first mug of caffeine ready for delivery to her mother in the bedroom. If she remembered the morning ritual correctly, she had another twenty minutes or so to get the grill going for the toast and to set the table.
She jumped into her car and searched for a newsagent to buy the all-important newspaper.
“You left the grill on, Pumpkin. That is how fires get started!” Walter scolded her when she came back through the kitchen door but when she handed him the newspaper and a bag of fresh bread rolls his face lit up.
“How are you Biddy?” Hanna asked, but her mother just lifted her head and looked questioningly at her daughter without responding. She seemed subdued and tired but Hanna believed that to be a response to her husband’s bad temper. He had probably dampened her mood with his erratic behaviour.
“Give me the board,” Biddy said to Walter.
“You mean the plate? What do you want the plate for?”
“The board,” she said, sounding helpless and irritated.
“Why don’t you point to what you want?” Hanna suggested.
“I want the board,” Biddy said quietly without looking at either of them.
“What do you want?” Hanna asked again, but Walter stopped her.
“Let it go, Pumpkin. She does that sometimes. I don’t think she wants anything, or she would let us know.”
Hanna frowned at that comment and, like her mother, she ate her breakfast in total silence.
“Nothing in there about you, Pumpkin,” Walter said triumphant after a quick flick through the newspaper and handed it over to his wife who immediately lost herself in reading.
“Well, that is odd,” Hanna said. “You’d have thought the story was more newsworthy than that. It was on the radio for crying out loud.”
“Modern day journalism,” Walter said with a powerful shake of his head.
“I will take Mum to the leisure centre this morning. A swim might do her good. Do you want to come?”
“Did you bring her swimming costume?” Walter asked surprised.
“Yes, it was hanging to dry in my room when we left. It was right there when I packed.”
“Very lucky,” Walter said. “I will let you do your thing and go cycling. You’ll have to drop me at our house. That way we will see if any paparazzi are honouring us with their presence.”
An hour later there was not the remotest sign of any journalists at the family home. Walter wordlessly got out of Hanna’s car and went inside while the two women drove on.
It was a glorious day and the possibility to spend much of it outdoors cheered Walter up. He swung onto his bicycle and began pedalling on a tour that would eventually take him back to Karim’s place, but not for a few hours.
The exercise was just what he had needed and he felt liberated and care-free, until he reached a point on his journey where parents like to take their children in strollers along the canal on their way from one village to the next.
The courtesy with which he braked for some of these self-involved and careless people on their mobiles was never returned. Young children and dogs were left stroll
ing around completely unsupervised and in his way, and some threw him evil looks for cycling ‘on their path’.
This was the reason that he normally came to this area at an earlier time. Fast paced commuters were dominating the path on their way to work then and neither dog walkers nor parents dared to come out during those hours. The only obstacles in his path then were runners and their earphones which made them ignorant of bicycles approaching.
Still slightly grumpy he arrived back at Karim’s flat. His muscles were aching and even though his mood had not improved there was still something to show for from his morning. He showered and then settled on the sofa. He was almost at the end of his book on the Civil War. He would have to find something else to read soon but lacked inspiration.
He wondered if the local book shop might have anything about Jewish Persians – or was it Persian Jews?
The doorbell rang. Talk of the devil: it was Karim himself.
“Hello Karim. So nice to see you. I would invite you in but since it is your own flat I don’t think I need to do that? How are you?” Walter stepped aside to make a path for Karim.
“Thank you Walter. I am great. A little bit tired after a night shift but that is nothing new for me,” Karim replied, but he stayed outside the door.
“I suppose not,” Walter said. “A bit like our Hanna and her night flights.”
“Yes, I guess. I haven’t seen her car. Is she out?” Karim asked, playing nervously with his arms.
“Yes, I am afraid it is only me at the moment. The women of the family left early this morning to go to the local pool. They should really be back by now.”
“Oh, never mind. I will see Hanna later anyway. I couldn’t sleep so I thought I’d pop in and see if everything here is fine. Do you need any help with anything? The TV? The computer?” Karim offered.
“Thank you very much. We are managing. I watched football on your sports channel yesterday. That was excellent. Are you a fan?”
“I am afraid I am a tennis and golf person,” Karim replied. “Not a great team player.”
“I used to play tennis myself but I have trouble with my knees now and am not allowed to anymore. Anyway, you have a great selection of videos. You know, our family has a tradition of film appreciation?”
“I had no idea,” Karim said, shifting weight slowly from one leg to the other.
“My uncle was one of the first acknowledged film buffs in this country. He worked for several high profile organisations in the industry.”
“I am glad you have found something agreeable in the place for you to do. I imagine it being a little difficult to be in someone else’s place. Please treat it like it was your own. My family has a long tradition of hospitality and we love nothing more than seeing guests relax and enjoy themselves.”
“I must apologise if I ever appear ungrateful or not quite at ease in your lovely home,” Walter said hastily. “I am sure my daughter might have said something to you about me in that respect. I am just not very flexible or spontaneous.”
“In your circumstances it is perfectly normal to feel tense and uneasy. You have a lot on your plate. It never occurred to me to take this personally,” Karim said.
“As we are being honest, Karim, could I ask you something in relation with my daughter?”
“You can certainly ask, Walter. What about her?” Karim asked with an amused tone, but continued shifting his weight from one leg to the other.
“Are you gay by any chance?” Walter asked and looked at Karim searchingly.
Karim laughed heartily and his posture relaxed.
“That question should really have nothing to do with your daughter! Gay? Why do you think that?”
“Well, are you?” Walter held his stare at Karim.
“No I am not. What made you think that?”
“It is just that my daughter has so many gay friends and I thought there had to be something about the entire ‘just friends’ relationship between you and her. My daughter is very vulnerable right now and I just wanted to put my mind at rest that there are no more problems and complications coming her way this week, other than the ones we already have,” Walter explained shyly.
“So you’d prefer me to be gay?” Karim asked, obviously amused by the turn the conversation had taken.
“I didn’t say that,” Walter said, worried that he might have dug himself into a hole.
“I work in the caring profession,” Karim replied. “Adding to your daughter’s problems couldn’t be further from my mind. I promise you have nothing to be worried about. I asked Hanna out, but she doesn’t reciprocate my interest. She treats me like a friend, and I am happy to be one for her as she needs one. I feel very sorry for her circumstances and given the nature of my work I can totally relate to her predicament. I want to help her through this mess. There won’t be any grief coming from me. If anyone is likely to get hurt it is me,” Karim said.
“I know it is probably highly inappropriate for me to be having such a conversation with you. When I was your age parents still had the right to talk to prospective future in-laws like this, but I hear it is no longer customary,” Walter said by way of an apology.
“It’s fine with me. After all, I have nothing to hide.”
“Good, in that case maybe you could enlighten me about the Jewish thing?” Walter asked bluntly.
Karim laughed again, a little too loudly for Walter’s liking.
“The Jewish thing? Well, what do you want to know about it?”
“Well, for a start, how can a Jewish man have a Persian name?”
“I also have a Jewish name beside Karim, but nobody in our family ever uses it. It is a common practice among assimilated Jews to have an official name that fits the local customs.”
“My son tells me that...your...circles would not easily accept my daughter if she did change her mind. Is that true?” Walter asked shyly.
“It is, in general, a tendency maybe, but it is not true for my family. My mother grew up as a minority that was well accepted at first. For many years there were large Jewish communities in Iran and they got on fine with their neighbours. Discrimination didn’t come until much later in her life, and it was only then that she felt the need to stick to the ‘tribe of the chosen people’ for her own protection. My parents were always believers but they never bought into exclusivity or segregation as a principle. I understand that when the religious fundamentalist forces in Iran gained more support the Jews tried to keep more to themselves. Over here it has been our Jewish connections that helped get my father established, which might explain why my sister and my brother both married Jews, but my parents did not demand or expect it.”
“I am glad to hear it because if Hanna changed her mind about you I would not want her to be rejected,” Walter explained.
“My mother is a very typical specimen of a Jewish matriarch who is fixated on her sons. She takes great interest in my life and that of my brother, but when it comes to relationships she really just wants us to be happy. My brother was married to a Jewish princess and it ended in a messy divorce and lots of heartache. She has seen a lot of my girlfriends come and go and has never made any demands on them, other than what you would expect any other caring mother would. Racial or religious differences caused many of her friendships to fall apart during her time in Iran, and there is no way she would do the same. Hanna and my mother have met and are meeting up again this afternoon: they get on like a house on fire.”
“Well, I am sorry I brought this up now,” Walter said, relieved that Karim had made this conversation so easy for him.
“Don’t worry. If you wanted to put in a word for me with your daughter that would be appreciated,” Karim said with a cheeky wink.
“I will see what I can do but, as with most daughters, the endorsement of a father is not what they look for in a man,” Walter said with a wink himself. “I might do more damage to your cause than good by giving you my blessing.”
“Tell Hanna I stopped by and that my moth
er will be ready for her day out whenever is convenient. I’d better go back now and relieve my sister of her duties.”
“I will tell Hanna you came to visit. Good bye, and thank you again.”
Hanna and Biddy did not spend much time in the leisure centre. Today there was a large group of teenagers who took up half of the pool, and the rest of the visitors were squeezed into the remaining tiny space. There was no peace in the steam room either, and Hanna decided to treat her mother to a massage in a nearby parlour instead.
The place used to be known for its excellent massages when Hanna still used to live here, but it had since undergone a massive revamp and was now a modern chain establishment with a broad range of services and special offers. The smell of essential oils was overwhelming.
Hanna and Biddy were able to get massages together in the same treatment room. Biddy appeared to enjoy the pampering although she remained quiet throughout and eventually fell asleep when the treatment came to an end.
“We can leave her on the table for a while if you like,” one of the therapists told Hanna. “Your mother seems so peaceful. We are not very busy today. We never are on a Monday. Hairdressers being closed for the day impacts a lot on our business. Our clients prefer to come into town for an entire day of beautification. When the salons get busy, so do we.”
“Well, that must be nice after the weekend,” Hanna guessed.
“It would be, if we didn’t have to pay for it the other days,” came the instant reply. “It’s a waste of appointments that we need to squeeze into the other days. We are working through lunch and staying behind late, but I guess we mustn’t complain other businesses are going under in the recession. Do you work?”
“I am afraid I do. I am a stewardess on long haul flights.”
“What do you think of that case they are talking about? You know, the billionaire who is suing the airline?” the beautician asked her.
“He must be very upset,” Hanna said carefully. “It’s very mean to fight someone who was only trying to help you.”
Time to Let Go Page 18
