The Doves of Ohanavank

by Vahan Zanoyan

  Gagik drives slower than usual. He is not sure how the driver following him will manage the road. As he leaves the village, he is happy to find the big ditch filled. It would be even more awkward to have the visitors walk the last twenty meters.

  Lara, Avo and Laurian are waiting outside when they arrive. Gago waits for Manoj to get out, and they walk together toward the house. Lara has not met Manoj, but Manoj has seen her pictures. He politely nods at the two men, and addresses Lara.

  “A very good afternoon to you, Ms. Leila,” he says, exercising his famous charm. “I trust I find you in good form and in good spirits. My name is Manoj Gupta. I work for His Excellency Ahmed Al Barmaka.”

  Manoj is speaking English. Lara has learned enough in the past two years to be able to communicate. That was the language they used in Dubai, and her classes in the past few months have helped polish her English more. Avo does not understand a word, Gagik a few words, and only Laurian is fluent, and amazed at the flowery greeting.

  By now the driver, Armen, who was checking under the hood of the car, has joined them, and briefly greets everyone. It is an awkward moment, with five men and Lara standing on the wet ground in front of the melting pile of snow, all, except Manoj, with serious and uncomprehending expressions, and Manoj doing his best to keep the kind smile on his face and make it look natural. Some of Lara’s siblings are watching with interest from the kitchen window.

  “Hello,” says Lara at last. “What can I do for you?”

  “Uh…is there a place where we can talk? I promise I won’t keep you long. I just need to pass on a message from His Excellency.”

  Lara remembers how she was expected to call him ‘Your Excellency’ until he asked her to call him by his first name, and how amused he was as she struggled with the Arabic heavy ‘H’ in Ahmed.

  Her first instinct is to say “we can talk here,” but she realizes immediately how rude and inhospitable that would be. After all, the man has somehow managed to arrive here all the way from Dubai, and is doing his absolute best to be courteous.

  “Just a minute,” she says to Manoj in English, and then shifts to Armenian and turns to Avo. “We need to invite him inside for a coffee,” she says. “He says he has a message for me. Edik is the only one who will understand what is being said, so there’s no point in everybody coming in. Is it okay if only he joins me while I talk to this man?”

  Avo is uncomfortable, but realizes that what Lara is suggesting makes sense. He nods. Lara gestures for Manoj and Laurian to follow her, and walks up the several steps to the house. She asks Arpi and Alisia, who rush away from the window and pretend to be busy with kitchen chores, to leave. They scurry out, blushing heavily.

  “Can I offer you a cup of coffee?” she asks, once Manoj and Laurian take seats on the stools by the low dining table.

  “Many thanks, Ms. Leila, that is very kind of you indeed,” beams Manoj, “but absolutely no need to go through the trouble. I will not be long. I need to get back to Yerevan soon.”

  Lara joins them at the table.

  “This is a close family friend,” she says pointing at Laurian.

  “Edward Laurian,” says Laurian, extending his hand. “Good to meet you.”

  “Good to meet you, Mr. Laurian.” Manoj uses every diplomatic bone in his body to hide his discomfort with the whole situation—the room, the smell, the presence of Laurian, the other men waiting downstairs. It is time to deliver his message and leave.

  “His Excellency is very concerned about you, Ms. Leila,” starts Manoj.

  “Mr. Manoj, my name is Lara,” she interrupts.

  “I’m very sorry, of course, I meant no offense, it’s just that that’s how His Excellency always refers to you. Once again, my apologies.”

  “That’s fine, Mr. Manoj.” She has already regretted bringing up the issue of the name.

  “Thank you, Ms. Lara. His Excellency sent a message to say that he cares about you deeply. And… he’d like to see you again.”

  Lara is terrified when her heart suddenly starts to pound. She did not expect, nor want, to react like this. She worries that Manoj and Laurian will notice that her hands are trembling, raising her nervousness by a few notches. It’s just the guilt, she keeps telling herself. I betrayed the trust of a man who treated me kindly. That’s all this is…

  “Mr. Manoj,” she says, keeping her hands firmly clasped together in her lap, and staring at the table. “My going back to Dubai is out of the question. I am now enrolled at the University and cannot leave Armenia.”

  “Your going to Dubai is not necessary, Ms. Lara,” says Manoj, very much aware of the change in her. “His Excellency will be delighted to hear that you are now enrolled at the University. I am sure he will be amenable to visit you in Yerevan.”

  Laurian’s curiosity is now piqued as to who His Excellency is. But his role at this meeting is simply that of an observer, as it would have been unthinkable to leave Lara alone in what is partly a bedroom with the stranger. Meanwhile, Lara is at a loss as to how to answer. It is Manoj who breaks the silence again.

  “Perhaps it would be best if he could call you first, Ms. Lara,” he says with the gentlest smile. “He asks your permission to call you, and, if you agree, for your telephone number.”

  Lara looks at Laurian for the first time since they’ve come to the room. He nods—the slightest tilting of the head, his approval being communicated more through the expression in his eyes than through his nod.

  “I have no objection if he wants to call,” says Lara finally. “You may have my mobile number. It is best to call during the week, when I am in Yerevan. Please give my regards to His Excellency.” Manoj enters her number into his cell phone, and carefully repeats it. Getting that number makes him feel like he has found a hidden treasure. Then he stands up.

  “Ms. Lara,” he says extending his hand, “please accept my deepest gratitude for your affirmative response. His Excellency will be very happy when he hears from me. With your permission, I must now leave.”

  Lara and Laurian stand up and walk him out and down the stairs. Avo, Gagik and Armen watch them. Laurian joins them and stands next to Avo, giving him a reassuring nod, indicating that the meeting went well and there is nothing to worry about, while Lara walks Manoj to his car. Armen opens the door for him and he gets in.

  “Excuse me, Mr. Manoj,” says Lara approaching the car before Armen gets a chance to close the door. “May I ask you a question?”

  “But of course, Ms. Lara, anything.”

  “I was just curious, how is Ms. Sumaya?”

  “Ms. Sumaya, along with the other…uh…ladies, has been dismissed,” says Manoj casually. “His Excellency no longer requires their services.”

  “Thank you. I wish you a safe journey.” And she walks back to join the men waiting by the pile of snow.

  Chapter Eleven

  Edik looks amused. He barely manages to restrain the smile that’s struggling to burst across his face, but his eyes give him away.

  “No woman,” he says with exaggerated theatrics, raising his right hand as if he is giving a sermon, “No woman, in the entire Republic, has ever been addressed with as much reverence, as much courtesy, as much respect as this stranger addressed Lara today.” The smile breaks free.

  I feel my face grow hot, and wonder if I’m blushing. Thankfully, I am in the process of making coffee, so I can keep my back to them most of the time.

  “De lav, Edik jan,” I say putting the pot of water on the stove and turning away again to fetch the cups and saucers. “Don’t exaggerate.”

  Avo and Gago still have no idea what has gone on and maintain their serious and impatient expressions. Glancing at them briefly, I set the cups on the table and turn my back again, thankful that Edik is acting the way he is. That will go a long way to lighten the mood.

  “I said no woman in the entire Republic,” says Edik laughing, ignoring me, “but now imagine a young lady, who smells like she has been rolling in the stable with the pi
glets and their mama, being addressed like she is the queen or some princess or the first lady…”

  I instinctively bring my right arm to my nose. The sleeve of my sweater is saturated with the pigs’ odor.

  “That is right, Ms. Lara,” he says, then, shifting to English, he adds “and please accept my deepest gratitude for your affirmative response.” His imitation of Manoj is so good that I start laughing too.

  Funny as this is, it is uncharacteristic of Edik, and even Gagik, who knows him the best, is somewhat surprised. Usually Edik is the sober one, taking seriously details that the others dismiss or laugh about, analyzing all the implications and consequences until everyone starts to roll their eyes. And here he is amused, acting like a clown, and not a bad one at that.

  “So when are you two going to tell us what the story is?” asks Avo. He is still impatient, but the extreme gravity seems to have lifted from his face.

  “Lara jan, it’s really your story,” says Edik. “I myself am dying to know. Who is His Excellency?” He is not joking around anymore. My mind registers two new observations about Edik: he has read Avo well, and he is a good manipulator. I’m glad he’s on my side.

  “His name is Ahmed Al Barmaka,” I start, trying to sound as casual as I can. “He is a very wealthy and influential man, and has many important government positions in Dubai. That’s why they refer to him like that.”

  “What does he have to do with you?” asks Avo.

  I hear the water boiling and get up again to add coffee and watch the pot. It’s good to have something to do while I tell the story.

  “I was with him during the last three months before I came home. It is from his palace that I escaped.” I know I need to choose my words carefully, but there is no roundabout way of telling the basic facts. Avo looks confused.

  “You escaped from his palace?” he says, scratching his head. “Why? Was he beating you? But wait, why were you in his palace in the first place?” How much of this do I need to spell out? Common, Avo, I plead in my mind, figure out the rest yourself! Then I decide to take the plunge. I take the coffee pot off the stove; I won’t be able to watch it and focus on what I need to tell Avo at the same time. Then I sit opposite Avo.

  “Avo jan, listen,” I say looking at him, as if the others are not in the room. “Ayvazian sold me to him. I was his. He never beat me, or mistreated me in any way. He is the only person in those horrible eighteen months that treated me with dignity and affection. That is the truth. So why did I escape? Because I wanted to come home, Avo. I wanted to see Mama before she died, remember? I missed you and our sisters and brothers. Because I did not like being sold. Do you understand?”

  There is total silence in the room. Edik stares at me, then looks at Avo. Gagik has his head in his hands and is looking down at the floor. I expect a burst of anger from Avo. But his eyes are surprisingly soft. I feel affection and love in the way he looks at me, not anger. My short-fused kid brother, whose rage I feared even before returning home, is now looking at me with affection. I was so convinced that he’d be unable to accept where I’ve been and what I’ve done, so sure that he wouldn’t be able to stand being in the same room with me, to look at me, if he knew the truth. I was wrong.

  This is going to be a day of many surprises and many revelations. It will also be the day when the healing starts. If Avo can still look at me with love and acceptance, maybe I no longer have reason to fear my demons so much. I do my best to control the tears that are welling up in my eyes, but fail. His eyes are wet too.

  “That is the truth, Avo jan. Do you understand?” I repeat.

  “I understand, kurig.” I burst into sobs at the sound of that word.

  Edik gives me a few minutes to gather myself, and then jumps in.

  “That explains the way Manoj was talking to you,” he says. “The courtesy that he extended to you is actually coming from his boss.” I know what he is trying to do. He wants to reinforce, for everyone’s benefit, that I was treated well and with dignity. Avo needs to focus on that aspect now, before his mind starts wandering into darker scenarios.

  “Now we all know he was polite,” says Gagik finally breaking his silence. “But did he want anything?”

  “Al Barmaka wants to talk to me,” I say, skipping the ‘wants to see me’ part. “He asked if I would give him my permission to call me, and for my number. I said yes, he can call me, and gave him my number. If he wants to call, let him call.”

  “He requested your permission to call him,” repeats Gagik looking impressed. “His Excellency requested your permission…”

  “That is exactly what he requested,” says Edik, “But there is a lot more on the agenda today.” He checks his watch. “It is almost two p.m. We need to go somewhere and talk, so the rest can use this room. Let’s go to Ashtarak and have lunch there. My treat.”

  I know Avo is dying to learn more about Al Barmaka, and, probably much more important for him, how I intend to handle his continuing interest in me. I know this from the way he is looking at me, I hear him with that third ear. I cannot let him wonder like that. I have released a few secrets, and I like the feeling. I find clarity liberating.

  As I am thinking about the effects of freeing secrets, I remember another conversation with Al Barmaka. He used to tell me that in the Middle Eastern culture, it is ambiguity that provides safety. No one should be made to be very clear and final about anything, he would say. It is the same in Asia, he’d say. “The Chinese and Japanese don’t like the ‘yes’ and ‘no’ words. Clarity is too deterministic, and so, once spoken, those words immediately restrict one’s options. Only ambiguity offers options,” he would say. “But it takes great skill and sophistication to manage ambiguity, my lovely Leila… Simple people cannot handle it. Simple people need a yes or no answer.”

  None of that made any sense to me then, because I could not relate to what he was talking about.

  But in the last two days, I have discovered the liberating properties of clarity. In my case, ambiguity did not provide safety. It provided constant uncertainty and unnecessary fear. Maybe I am not sophisticated enough. Ambiguity may hold options, but it also houses the loose ends, which are not always liberating. It is clarity that Avo needs right now.

  “Avo, I know this man’s visit has troubled you,” I say, intending to clarify as much as I can without creating new anxieties. “I am as confused by it as you are, but I will tell you the truth, as I know it. I suspected that Ahmed was falling in love with me in Dubai, but I never thought that he’d track me all the way to Saralandj. I’ll be honest with you about something else, Avo jan. I feel bad for betraying his trust when I ran away. He was in China. He did not deserve to be treated like that. I should have at least explained to him that I wanted to go back home. He would have understood. But at the time I was afraid that he’d hand me back over to Ayvazian. So I betrayed him. Now I don’t think that he would have handed me over to Ayvazian, and I don’t know what will happen next. If he calls, I’ll talk to him, and I’ll let you know what he says. Okay, Avo?”

  I know I have done the right thing. Avo believes me, I can tell. He looks relieved, and grateful for the explanation. A little clarity has gone a long way. I now believe more strongly that this is the beginning of the healing process.

  We spend a few hours at the restaurant in Ashtarak, briefing Gagik and Avo about Anastasia’s visit and discussing strategies of how to best use the opportunity. Then Gagik and Avo head back to Saralandj, with a promise from Gagik to visit the new family in their pen, and Edik and I leave for Yerevan. We agree to have dinner together that night, and meet with Anna the next day before he returns to Vardahovit.

  Chapter Twelve

  Carla is in the bedroom of her father’s private suite. This is where Sergei Ayvazian raped Lara on the same night that his men took her from Saralandj. This is the room where Anoush, the housekeeper that they kept at the time, and who they’ve since let go, tried to clean up the mess, making a shell-shocked Lara take a bath a
nd go to bed, telling her that this is how things are, and that they will be this way from now on, that she’d better get used to it. Lara, clutching Araxi Dadik’s ring in her hand, shut off the world around her, and, for the first time in her life, experienced the feeling of being alone.

  Carla has introduced important changes to the room; she has added a large high definition TV, where she watches her large collection of porno films. More than half of her collection is supplied by Yuri. She has made him make at least one special trip to Moscow just to procure a few bondage films. She avoids using the Internet for fear of being detected. She does not trust the authorities.

  Carla’s latest obsession is bisexual threesomes, after finding out that having another woman in bed along with Yuri is more satisfying than having Yuri alone. And Yuri does not mind.

  But on this chilly afternoon she has only Yuri as company. He has been attentive as usual and succeeded in satisfying her seemingly insatiable desires. They lie in bed, silent for a while. Yuri stirs first, and goes to the bathroom to wash his face. When he returns, she’s sitting up in bed, with the sheet pulled up to her shoulders. The expression on her face is pure business, as if the past half-hour did not happen.

  “You need to fly to Dubai,” she says. “And the sooner the better. There are three direct flights a week. Catch the next one, I think the day after tomorrow.”

  Yuri hates surprises, especially when they involve last minute, rushed tasks. He looks at her for a minute, his irritation showing, and starts getting dressed.

  “It’s important,” says Carla. “Viktor had made some large investments in Dubai. All his files must be there, probably with Ano, who, by the way, is still running more than twenty girls for us. We have far too much at stake that is still up for grabs.”

  That gets Yuri’s attention.