‘No, you don’t need to call. They are used to me not showing up at work now and then. I never call to let them know.’
Shahrzad lay in bed looking almost unconscious until one in the afternoon. I cooked a large pot of turnip soup and marinated some meat for kebab. She clearly needed to regain her strength. She was half the size she had been the last time I had seen her. I went out and bought some sedatives, cough syrup and something to reduce fever. It was almost time for the children to come home. I went to her and gently put my hand on her forehead. She still had a fever. She woke with a fright and sat up with a jolt. For a few seconds she stared at me and her surroundings. She had no notion of place and time.
‘Don’t be afraid,’ I gently said. ‘Calm down. It’s me, Massoumeh. You are safe.’
Suddenly, she remembered everything. She took a deep breath and fell back on her pillow.
‘You have become too weak,’ I said. ‘Sit up. I have made some soup. Eat a little, take the medication and go back to sleep. You have a very bad case of flu.’
Her large eyes filled with sorrow and her lips trembled. I pretended I hadn’t noticed and walked out. Hamid was pacing the hall.
‘Is she awake?’ he asked. ‘I have to talk to her.’
‘Wait; let her pull herself together and eat something first…’
I took the soup and the medicine to the living room. She was sitting up. I took off the towel I had wrapped around her hair the night before. Her hair was still a little damp.
‘Start eating,’ I said. ‘I will go get a comb or a brush.’
She put a spoonful of soup in her mouth, closed her eyes and savoured it.
‘Hot food! Soup! Do you know how long it has been since I had something hot to eat?’
My heart ached. I said nothing and walked out. Hamid was still impatiently pacing up and down the hall.
‘What is the matter?’ I snapped. ‘Why are you in such a hurry? Wait a few minutes. I won’t let you talk to her until she has eaten something.’
I took a comb and returned to the living room. It was difficult combing her tangled hair.
‘A hundred times I wanted to go and cut it all off and be rid of it,’ she said. ‘But I never found the time.’
‘What? Why would you want to cut off all this beautiful, lush hair? A bald woman is really ugly.’
‘Woman!’ she said thoughtfully. ‘Yes, you are right. I had forgotten I am a woman.’
She laughed sarcastically and ate the rest of her soup.
‘I have made kebab, too. You have to eat some meat to gain strength.’
‘No, not now. I haven’t eaten in forty-eight hours. I have to eat slowly and in small portions. Give me some more soup later on… Is Hamid home?’
‘Yes, he is waiting to talk to you. I think he is running out of patience.’
‘Tell him to come in. I feel much better. I feel alive again.’
I gathered the dishes, opened the door and asked Hamid to come in. He greeted her so eagerly and yet so politely and ceremoniously that it was like he was talking to his boss. I walked out and closed the door.
They talked quietly for more than an hour.
When the children came home from school, Siamak walked in and like a dog that has smelled a stranger in the house he asked, ‘Mum, who is here?’
‘One of your father’s friends,’ I said. ‘Make sure you don’t tell anyone!’
‘I know!’
And then he started to observe everything carefully. He pretended he was playing in the hall, right behind the living room door, but he was all ears, hoping to hear something. I called him and said, ‘Go buy a couple of bottles of milk.’
‘No, not now.’
And he quickly resumed his game behind the closed door.
Hamid walked out of the living room, tucked the sheets of paper he was holding into his jacket pocket and while putting on his shoes he said, ‘Shahrzad is going to stay here for now. I have to go out. Don’t worry if I’m late or if I don’t come home tonight. I will definitely be back by late afternoon tomorrow.’
I went to the living room. Shahrzad was lying down.
‘Did you take the medication?’ I asked.
Looking embarrassed, she sat up and said, ‘Please forgive me; I know I am intruding. I will try to leave as soon as possible.’
‘Please! You need to rest. Consider this your own home. I will not let you leave until you have fully recovered.’
‘I’m afraid I may cause problems for you. All these years, we have tried to keep this house safe for you and your children, but last night I put that safety at risk. I had spent two entire days going from one hole to another and, as luck would have it, the weather suddenly turned cold. It started to rain and snow. And I wasn’t feeling well. I had a fever and it was getting worse by the hour. I was afraid I would collapse on the street. I had no other options; otherwise, I would not have come here.’
‘You did well to come. For now, please don’t worry about anything; just sleep and rest assured that nothing has happened here.’
‘For the love of God, don’t be so formal with me.’
‘All right!’
But I couldn’t help it. I didn’t quite know where I stood with her and what the nature of our relationship was. The children were peeking through the door and eyeing Shahrzad with curiosity. She laughed, wiggled her fingers and said hello to them.
‘God bless them,’ she said. ‘Your sons have grown so much.’
‘Yes! Mr Siamak is now in year three and Massoud is five years old.’
I handed her the pills and a glass of water.
‘I thought they were closer in age,’ she said.
‘We enrolled Siamak in school a year early. Come here, boys, come here and say hello to Sha—’ I suddenly noticed the alarmed look on Shahrzad’s face and realised that I should not mention her name. I hesitated a moment and said, ‘Come and say hello to Aunt Sheri.’
Shahrzad raised her eyebrows and laughed as if the name sounded silly to her.
The children came in and said hello to her. Siamak was scrutinising her with such curiosity that Shahrzad grew nervous. She even looked down to make sure her shirt buttons hadn’t come undone.
‘All right, that’s enough,’ I said. ‘Everyone out. Auntie has to rest.’
And outside the door, I told the boys, ‘Don’t make any noise and don’t tell anyone Auntie is visiting.’
‘I know!’ Siamak snapped.
‘Yes, son. But now Massoud has to know, too. Do you understand, dear? This is our secret. You cannot tell anyone.’
‘OK,’ Massoud said cheerfully.
A few days later, Shahrzad had almost recovered, except that she still had a dry cough which kept her awake at night. I tried to stimulate her appetite by cooking various tasty dishes, hoping that she would regain some of the weight she had lost. Hamid was constantly coming and going, reporting to Shahrzad behind closed doors, and leaving again with new instructions.
A week went by. Shahrzad paced the rooms and tried to stay away from the windows. I had stopped going to my classes at the university and we were not sending Massoud to the kindergarten for fear that he would inadvertently say something about what was going on at home. He spent the days quietly playing, making houses with the new Lego Hamid had bought for him, and drawing beautiful pictures that were too advanced for his age and reflected a special talent. Emotionally, too, he was displaying the creative spirit of an artist. He looked at objects intently and discovered things in them that none of us had noticed. When the weather was nice, he would keep himself busy for hours with the plants and flowers in the yard. He would even plant seeds and, surprisingly, they would all grow. He lived in a different world. It was as if earthly matters had no value for him. Unlike Siamak, he was quick to forgive and adapted to any situation. He reacted with his entire being to the smallest kindness. He was aware of all my emotions and if he sensed that I was upset, he would try to cheer me up with a sweet kiss.
Massoud’s relationship with Shahrzad quickly escalated to a deeply loving tenderness. They liked to spend all their time together. Massoud watched over her like a guard and constantly drew pictures and built houses for her. He would sit on her lap for long periods of time and in his sweet childish language weave strange stories about the things he had built. Shahrzad would laugh wholeheartedly and Massoud, feeling encouraged, would continue with his sweet-talking.
Siamak, on the other hand, treated Shahrzad with respect and reserve; the same way Hamid and I treated her. I liked her very much and tried to be relaxed and friendly with her, but for some reason I always felt like a schoolgirl around her. To me she was the symbol of competence, political astuteness, courage and self-reliance. All these characteristics had escalated her to a superhuman in my mind. She was always kind and comfortable with me, but I couldn’t forget that she was twice as perceptive and intelligent as my husband, even giving him orders.
Hamid and Shahrzad were constantly talking, and I would try not to disturb them or show any curiosity. One night after I put the children to bed, I went to the bedroom and sat down to read. Thinking that I, too, had gone to bed, they sat in the hall and talked comfortably.
‘We are very lucky that Abbas never came to this house,’ Hamid said. ‘The rascal didn’t even resist for forty-eight hours.’
‘I knew from the start that he was weak,’ Shahrzad responded. ‘Remember how he was constantly nagging during training? It was as clear as daylight that his conviction wasn’t strong.’
‘Why didn’t you tell Mehdi?’
‘I did, but he said it was too late to put him aside, Abbas knew everything. Mehdi said we should try to bring him around, that he had the right foundation. But deep in my gut, I was always wary.’
‘Yes, I remember,’ Hamid said. ‘Even when we had gone as far as the border, you objected to his going with us.’
‘That’s why Mehdi never gave him any sensitive information and I tried to have him meet as few people as possible. Just the fact that he knows nothing about you, not even your real name, or where you live and where you work, has really helped us.’
‘Yes, but our greatest luck was that he didn’t live in Tehran. Otherwise, he would have eventually figured it all out.’
‘If the good-for-nothing had held out for just forty-eight hours, we could have saved everything. Still, thank God the central nucleus and the guys in Tehran weren’t caught. And what’s left of the ammunitions should be enough. If the operation goes well and according to plan, we can seize the enemy’s weapons.’
I felt a chill run up my spine and cold sweat settled on my forehead. Questions rushed through my mind. What were they planning to do? Where had they been? My God, where and with whom had I been living? Of course, I knew they were working against the Shah’s regime, but I didn’t know that the scope of their activities had widened to that extent. I always imagined their actions to be limited to intellectual debates, printing leaflets, writing articles, newsletters and books, and giving lectures.
That night when Hamid came to the bedroom, I told him I had overheard their conversation. I broke into tears and begged him to give it all up, to think about his life and his children.
‘It’s too late,’ he said. ‘I should have never built a family. I told you this in a thousand different ways, but you didn’t accept it. I am alive because of my ideals and my duty to live up to them. I can’t just think about my own kids and forget about the thousands of wretched children living under the tyranny of this executioner. We have sworn to save the people and to set them free.’
‘But what you are planning is very dangerous. Do you really think that with a handful of people you can go up against the army, the police force and the SAVAK, destroy them all and save the people?’ I asked.
‘We have to do something so that the world will stop believing that this country is an island of peace and stability. We have to shake the foundations so that the masses wake up, stop being afraid and start believing that even this mighty power can fall. Then, they will gradually join us.’
‘You are all too idealistic. I don’t believe that any of what you say will ever happen. You will all be destroyed. Hamid, I am terrified.’
‘Because you don’t believe. Now stop making a big fuss. What you overheard was just talk. We have had hundreds of these plans and none of them were ever carried out. Don’t ruin your own and the children’s peace of mind over nothing. Go to sleep; and don’t ever mention this to Shahrzad.’
After ten days of Hamid going and coming, taking messages and orders to unknown people and places, the decision was made that Shahrzad was not to leave our house until further notice and that we should try and resume our normal life. The only problem was that we had to find a way to stop people from coming to the house.
Although we usually didn’t have that many callers, the occasional visits by our parents, Mrs Parvin and Faati could still create difficulties. We decided to take Bibi and the boys to visit Hamid’s parents regularly so that they wouldn’t want to come to the house to see them. And I told my own family that I had classes at the university every day and that I would visit them whenever I could. I also told them that I would leave the children with them when I had afternoon classes. Despite all this, we did occasionally have unannounced visitors. On these occasions, Shahrzad would stay in the living room and lock the door from the inside, and we would tell our visitor that we had lost the key and couldn’t use that room.
Shahrzad stayed with us. She tried to help me around the house, but she knew nothing about housekeeping and laughed at her own incompetence more than anyone else. Instead, having grown close to the children, she took care of Massoud with love and affection. And in the afternoon when Siamak came home from school, she worked with him on his homework, reviewed his lessons and practised dictation with him. In the meantime, I went to my classes at the university and started taking driving lessons. We had agreed that if I learned how to drive, it would be helpful in emergencies as well as vital to the children’s safety. The Citroën was still covered and parked in the yard. Shahrzad and Hamid believed that there was no suspicion directed at the car and that it was safe for me to drive it.
Massoud hardly left Shahrzad’s side and was constantly busy doing something for her. He drew a picture of a house and told her that it was their house, that when he grew up he would build it so that they could get married and live there together. Shahrzad pinned the drawing to the wall. Whenever Massoud came shopping with me, he would ask me to buy all his favourite foods so that he could give them to Shahrzad. On sunny days, he would search around the yard for interesting gifts for her. Since there were hardly any flowers in bloom at that time of year, he would often pluck a few blossoms from the thorny wintersweet bush and with bloody fingers offer them to Auntie Sheri who kept them as one would keep a precious object.
The longer she lived with us, the more I learned about her. She was a very simple woman. One could not describe her as beautiful, but she was attractive and charming. One day after she had taken a shower she asked me to cut her hair short.
‘Let me instead blow-dry it for you,’ I said. ‘It will dry faster and it will look beautiful.’
She didn’t object. Massoud stood and watched intently as I styled Shahrzad’s hair. He loved beauty and enjoyed observing women tend to themselves. Even when I wore the lightest shade of lipstick, he would notice and say something nice about it, but he preferred it when I wore red lipstick. After I finished blow-drying Shahrzad’s hair, he picked up a red lipstick and said, ‘Auntie Sheri, put this on.’
Shahrzad looked at me.
‘Well, put it on,’ I said. ‘It’s not a big deal.’
‘No, I’m too embarrassed.’
‘Embarrassed in front of whom? Me? Massoud? Besides, what is wrong with wearing a little lipstick?’
‘I don’t know. There is nothing wrong with it, but it’s inappropriate for me. It’s a bit too frivolous.’
‘What rubbish! You
mean you have never worn make-up?’
‘I used to, when I was younger. And I liked it, but it’s been years…’
Massoud again insisted, ‘Auntie, put it on, put it on. If you don’t know how, I will put it on for you.’ He took the lipstick and put some on Shahrzad’s lips. Then he stood back and looked at her, his eyes full of admiration and joy. He clapped, laughed and said, ‘She looks so pretty! Look how pretty!’ And he leaped into her arms and gave her a big kiss on the cheek.
Shahrzad and I burst out laughing, but suddenly she grew quiet, put Massoud back down on the floor, and with utter simplicity and innocence she said, ‘I am jealous of you. You are a fortunate woman.’
‘Jealous of me?’ I said, surprised. ‘You are jealous of me?’
The Book of Fate Page 24
