Moon Daughter

by Zohreh Ghahremani

  The restaurant was located off the main street. Kathy had said she chose this place for its peaceful atmosphere. The familiar tune of a soft melody played on piano confirmed that. Rana looked around and found Kathy, sitting at a corner booth, waving at her.

  As she wove between the tables, she was reminded her of better times when she had enjoyed dinners here. She had learned to brush away such memories as quickly as they came to her. The past was only that, and she was determined not to allow it to rob her of the needed energy to face the future.

  Kathy left her seat to give her a hug. “I’ve really missed you.” she said.

  “Me, too,” Rana responded politely.

  When they took their seats, Kathy reached across the table and put a hand on hers. “How are you holding up, honey?”

  Rana diverted her attention to the next table. Her best response would have been to admit she wasn’t! She still couldn’t talk about Marjan, especially not to her. Images of the school bus dropping off Claire at the curb came to her. Had Frank put the swing back up? Something bitter rose in her throat. “I’m fine,” she lied and knew her tone was dry.

  “Frank has been a mess about the accident.” Kathy said, as though having read her mind. “You would think as an army man, he’d be the stronger one, but he was so devastated that, after a few sleepless nights, he asked the owner to chop down that damn tree.”

  The tree is gone. The swing is gone. But so is my Marjan.

  A few seconds passed in silence.

  “How long before your trip to the States?” Kathy asked and Rana appreciated the change of subject.

  “I don’t know,” she said and proceeded to tell her about her father’s heart attack and their delayed plans.

  “Is it okay for him to travel?”

  “He thinks so. But I’m afraid he is acting stronger than he feels just so we won’t miss our appointment with the specialist.” She thought for a moment. “I hear it’s going to be hot when we’re in Chicago. But what if we need to stay longer? What kind of weather do they have in autumn, or winter, for that matter?”

  “I wouldn’t worry about it. You’ll be back long before Chicago’s famous winter even starts. Mind you, summers in the Midwest can be all four seasons wrapped in one.” She smiled. “I mean, you’ll definitely get the heat, but there will be intervals of rain, cold, even hail.”

  “Hell?”

  Kathy laughed. “No, not Hell—hail! as in frozen rain,” she explained. “We have a saying, ‘If you don’t like our weather, just wait a minute!’” She chuckled. “It’s best to always have umbrellas and sweaters handy, just in case.”

  “Do they wear boots and gloves in winter?”

  “In Chicago? Honey, you bet! Sometimes the entire Midwest turns into the North Pole. Especially with that wind, no amount of winter gear seems enough.”

  “I had no idea.” Rana’s suitcases were already full. Maybe she should buy those once they were there.

  As the restaurant became more crowded, they spoke a little louder and now there was so much noise that she could hardly hear her friend.

  “I hope your husband is all better.” Kathy said and sounded as though she thought he was recovering from something.

  “He’s fine, why?”

  “Frank wondered if he’d be going back to work soon.”

  Rana didn’t know how to respond. “I think so,” she said absentmindedly.

  “Glad to hear that.”

  Had Moradi missed work? By now he didn’t need excuses for his absence from home and he certainly didn’t have to skip work to sneak to Parisa’s. Where else could he have been?

  Throughout the visit, they never once mentioned Marjan. Once, Kathy spoke of how hard “the incident” had been on Claire, but maybe she saw something in Rana’s face because she immediately switched to the newly opened army’s food mart. W hen they had finished their small meal, an appointment was set for Kathy to bring her a couple of new books and show her pictures of Chicago and its surrounding areas.

  The next evening, Moradi stopped by again, but once again, he didn’t eat and would not say a word. This time, even little Vida sensed something. “Is Papa mad at me?” she whispered to Rana, but loud enough for Moradi to hear.

  “Don’t be such a pest,” he yelled at her.

  Rana did not react. What had come over the man? His recent attitude had nothing to do with grief. He seemed to be done with his share of mourning and crying on his sister’s shoulder. His life had gone back to its routine and the only visible change was the occasional games he played with Vida. He had visited Vida at his sister’s house on a regular basis, and except for the past two evenings, he had given her his full attention. Sometimes the games they played made him laugh. By contrast, Rana wondered if she’d ever laugh again.

  She couldn’t figure where Moradi’s anger came from and didn’t care enough to probe, but maybe it would be best to take Vida away before he ruined what was left of good memories. She had heard about angry men and their cruelty, especially army men. She wouldn’t let Vida be his victim.

  Moradi had left a message with Dayeh saying he wouldn’t be home for dinner. Rana decided to pay the Khalili Garden another visit, but this time she would go at dusk, shortly before the gates closed. She figured the darkness would make it easier for her to conceal her identity, and there was a good chance that Moradi might show up there closer to evening.

  Not too many visitors were left. A few younger couples hid here and there, looking as if they were on secret dates. The gardeners were making their rounds with insecticide sprays and the air smelled medicinal. Perched at her usual spot in the gazebo, Rana wondered what others might think of her sunglasses, but at this point she was too preoccupied to care.

  She hadn’t been there long when a taxi pulled up to the house. Three people sat in the back seat. As Moradi stepped out of the taxi, Rana could not miss his tall shape, which now looked even taller with his army hat on. The shock of seeing him made her rise from the bench, but she immediately sat down and ducked behind the climbing rose. He stood next to a small woman who, judging by the curve in her back and slow moves, was much older.

  Moradi reached into the back seat and helped another woman out of the taxi while the older one went to the other side to remove a rather large bag. It was hard to see their faces, but based on Banu’s description, the taller one had to be Parisa. Moradi helped her up the three steps while the other woman rushed to open the door. As they faced the door, in the pale streetlight Rana could see their backs. The way he slid his arm around the woman made it clear she was in need of support to stand. Rana recalled the warmth of his long fingers in the curve of her own back and had the urge to scream, “That’s my husband!” But something about the helpless way the woman moved told her she wouldn’t want to be her.

  Parisa took small baby steps while being supported. She bent her head to the side as if lacking the strength to hold it up. Rana felt cold all over and it had nothing to do with the cool evening breeze. As soon as the door opened, a bright light came on inside the house and for just a second, the tall woman stood against the light in a way that Rana could make out her profile. From a distance, her features were not clear, but the way her long hair flowed to one side, and something in her slow moves conveyed deep sorrow.

  The door closed behind them, leaving the alley in the obscure purple hue of dusk. Only then was Rana conscious of something peculiar, something that the mere thought of it froze her heart. Now she knew what had given her that shiver. She crossed her arms over her middle as though making sure her insides stayed in place and her whisper sounded as cold as the wind, “Oh, dear God!”

  The woman’s body had been slender, too slender for someone who was about to have a baby.

  Chapter

  Fifteen

  “WOULD YOU LIKE THE LIGHT ON?” Dayeh asked Rana, who sat on the couch staring out into the garden. Her lovely silhouette blended in with the shadows of the darkening garden, as if she, too, belonged out t
here among the flowers.

  “No,” Rana said. “Let it be.” She pulled her knees up to her chin. “It’s easier to think in the dark,” she turned to face her nanny. “But I could use some tea, if the samovar isn’t too cold.”

  “Let me check.”

  Going back to the kitchen, Dayeh was puzzled. Rana had turned peculiar and sometimes acted so distant that Dayeh had to remind herself that was the girl she had raised. Lately, there were too many new developments to adjust to. When Rana told her about her unexpected and rather sudden plan for a trip abroad, Dayeh’s first reaction had been pure panic. No sooner had the word “travel” left Rana’s mouth than Dayeh recalled the disaster that Bibi Moneer had cautioned her against. A strong believer in Bibi’s predictions, Dayeh was sure something dreadful would happen on this journey. But maybe the good doctor’s heart attack was what the woman had predicted. Lately she couldn’t figure out what was the matter with the Major, either. He had been acting strange. He did come home every single night, but Dayeh heard the squeaking of the parquet floor above as he paced the floor into the latest hours of the night. In the morning, he was gone before prayer time and when she went to do his bed, it was untouched, with only the covers a little scrunched. His pajamas sat in the drawer, neatly folded, unused.

  After two additional sessions with the soothsayer when the woman failed to reveal anything new, Dayeh wondered if Bibi Moneer was too old and her power of prophecy was no longer reliable. On her last visit, the woman had made no sense at all. “You were planning to go on a pilgrimage to Mecca,” she had said. “But the money you recently lost was quite a lump sum.” Dayeh couldn’t think of anything that came the least bit close to such a description.

  Bibi Moneer went on with her forecast as clearly as if she was watching the events on a television screen. “With the first snowfall, a holy man in a green turban will leave you a good amount of money and that’s when you’ll make the trip.” She played with her rosary and gave Dayeh a coy smile. “You won’t forget Bibi’s gift when you get that money, will you?” After such gibberish, Dayeh searched for other ways to find out what was going on.

  She took a glass of tea to Rana and set it on the side table. “What time will your husband be home?” she asked, more concerned with dinner than his presence.

  Rana shrugged.

  “Vida will have dinner at her Amerikaee friend’s, so I made the lamb stew you like.” She chuckled. “Oo, she hates that stuff! If God hadn’t created rice, that child would starve.”

  Rana didn’t laugh. Had the remark brought Marjan to her mind? That child had never objected to what was served. Dayeh knew her mistress well. She felt deep guilt. She glanced at the grandfather clock, unable to make out the numbers through tears.

  “The Major is coming home for dinner, no?”

  Rana glared at her. “Why not ask Banu?”

  So we’re back to that, are we? Dayeh thought

  When the Major had turned up every evening, and especially when he did not yell at Vida the way he normally would, Dayeh started to believe the man might have had a change of heart. She hoped that maybe Rana’s travel plans and the mere idea of weeks of separation had finally brought him to his senses. But now it sounded as though things were right back to where they started. With Bibi Moneer turning senile on her, Dayeh figured it wasn’t such a bad idea to talk to Banu and find out more, but how could she do that and still save face?

  “Would you like dinner now?”

  Rana shook her head. “You go ahead and eat. I’m not really hungry.”

  Dayeh opened her mouth to say something, but decided anything she said at this point might only add to the tension. It was bad enough to sit in the dark and think, but the way Rana skipped meals, soon there would be nothing left of her.

  Back in the kitchen, Dayeh turned off the burner where the lamb stew was simmering. The aroma of saffron, turmeric and dried lemon filled the air, and the windows were fogged with steam rising from the pot. She took a large ladle and poured some stew into a china bowl, then cut a large onion in half and set it in a small plate. She placed the food on a tray along with a lavash bread and two glasses of water and headed down the hall. Before entering her room, she knocked with the toe of her shoe on Banu’s door. “Come for dinner.”

  Dayeh felt too exhausted to eat. It had been a long day. Not only had she done loads of laundry and ironing, but Yalda, about to cut her first tooth, had fussed all day.

  Banu entered Dayeh’s room, left her slippers at the door and joined her on the rug. As soon as she sat down, she tore a piece off the flat bread and dipped it into the stew, then let it drip all the way to her mouth.

  “W here are your manners, girl?” Dayeh said angrily. “Wait till it’s ready to eat, and use a spoon for Heaven’s sake!”

  Banu struggled to chew the big piece of bread and apologized with her mouth full.

  Gone were the days at the Ameli’s when Dayeh would be invited to the table with the rest of the family. The Major didn’t even like it when the servants ate in the kitchen, let alone in the dining room. She took the bread and cut it into bite size pieces and dropped them into the stew. Stirring just enough to soak each piece, she offered half of the raw onion to Banu and took a bite from the other half. The onion was fresh and its sharp taste made her eyes teary. She took a spoonful of the stew to neutralize the effect.

  “Heard anything new in the neighborhood?” she asked Banu and tried to sound casual.

  The girl eyed her with disbelief and shook her head.

  Dayeh put a hand on Banu’s shoulder. “You can tell Dayeh anything.” She lowered her voice. “It’s Rana-khanoon I don’t want you to go talking to.”

  Banu took a spoonful of the stew and looked down without a word.

  Deciding that questions would not get her far and that they might even make the girl suspicious, Dayeh changed course. “I wonder what the neighbors think of the Major’s recent problem. He sure isn’t the same.”

  “You know about that?” Banu said, wide eyed, yet somehow sounding relieved, as if pleased to know the secret was out.

  Dayeh gave her an encouraging smile. “It’s all over the street, dear.”

  Banu nodded. “You’re right. I don’t know what made me think you wouldn’t know.” She stuffed her mouth again. “I heard it day before yesterday, waiting in line at the bakery,” she went on, now hissing as her voice burst with enthusiasm. “I couldn’t believe Leila—that’s the new maid down the alley, whose mother works for the Major’s woman.” She took a bite of the onion and followed it with a loud gulp of water. “She has the nerve to feel sorry for what happened. The Major’s woman sure had it coming to her.” She looked at Dayeh and whispered, “I mean, she had no right marrying Miss Rana’s husband to begin with, not to mention growing his seed!”

  “His seed?” Dayeh glared at her. “W here did you learn to talk that way about your master?” As soon as she had said that, she thought of the reason behind this conversation and switched back to being friendly. “But I see what you mean.” Despite extreme curiosity, Dayeh would not say another word because, knowing Banu, she’d go on until she had told everything she knew.

  Banu swallowed hard, and raised her voice. “It was a boy you know,” she said, as if to announce the most important headline.

  Was? At first, Dayeh didn’t know what to think, but it only took her a minute to regain her presence of mind. She shuddered at the shocking news, but managed to appear calm. “Astaghforellah,” she said under her breath, and couldn’t say the rest. Major Moradi had paid dearly for his cruelty, but having experienced two miscarriages herself, followed by infections that left her barren, Dayeh found it hard to rejoice. Divine justice? But the loss of life was still a loss. Any life.

  Unable to chew, Dayeh let the piece of bread sit in her mouth while she tried to make sense of the past two days: The Major’s restless attitude, his coming home, not eating. Did Rana know about this? And if so, who had told her? Dayeh was tempted to ask, but t
hat might reveal the fact that she was hearing the news for the first time.

  “This happens all the time, dear, lots of women lose their babies,” she said at last, using her age and experience to regain the upper hand. “And in most cases, there’s no rhyme or reason why.”

  “Oh, but Leila’s mother said this one was because of the accident.” Banu sounded triumphant at knowing something that Dayeh didn’t know. “I bet that’s why the Major is acting so weird, I heard he himself was driving!”

  “What?” This time Dayeh could not mask her surprise.

  Banu raised her chin and smiled as if enjoying her informed status. “Near the Khalili garden, a bicycle darted out of the alley right in front of the Major’s Jeep, and wham!” She clapped hard, giving Dayeh a jolt. “God was with the Major because neither one was hurt,” she said. “I mean, except for the woman losing her baby.”

  The bowl of stew was finished and Banu took the last piece of bread to wipe it clean. Dayeh wondered how that girl could eat so fast and talk at the same time.

  “His car is all ruined,” Banu said in closing.

  “That explains the taxis.”