Path of Jen: Bloodborne (4 page)

“Really? I slept all day? Wow, it doesn’t
feel like it. Okay, I’m coming down. Oh wait…
dad?
" She opened the door slightly and asked,
“Where’s the bathroom?"

Her father pointed to the door at the end of
the hall. “Aha,” she said once inside. “Door number three.”

Several minutes later Jen walked quietly down
the stairs. She heard voices in the kitchen and smelled something
even more delicious than the food she smelled when they arrived.
She immediately started salivating and quickened her step hoping to
taste some of her aunt’s delicious cooking. When she walked into
the kitchen she froze. There was a stranger at the table sitting
with her aunt and uncle and her dad. It was a boy. He was plain
looking, with bushy eyebrows and a pronounced under-bite. “Salaam,”
she said to the table as she entered the kitchen.

Everyone turned toward her smiling, and then
their faces fell.
“What? Oh my God, what did I do wrong?”
she thought in a panic. The boy swallowed and looked nervously at
her uncle and then at her dad. Her uncle sighed and turned back
toward the table.
“Oh no,”
she thought. She felt tears
coming, and looked pleadingly at her father.
“What is it?”
she screamed inside. Her aunt smiled warmly and hurried to her.
Fatima gestured toward the stairs and walked out of the kitchen
with Jen. “Aunt Fatima, I am so sorry! What did I do wrong?”

“It is nothing Jena. You were not raised
here, so it is not unexpected or so bad, especially not inside our
home. It is your hijab, Jena. You must not forget to wear it
whenever you are outside or when any adult men are around. Do you
understand?"

Jen sucked in a breath and put her hand on
her head in shock. “Oh no! I forgot it! I am sorry!" She retrieved
it from the bed and quickly wrapped it the way her mother had shown
her.

“
Relax Jena,
” said
her aunt warmly. “You have done nothing wrong. Your uncle is old
and grumpy sometimes, but he forgets that I knew him many years ago
before Sharia law ruled here. He wanted to be a cowboy like John
Wayne!" They both giggled at that and Fatima gave her a hug. “Okay,
are you ready to try this again?”

“Whew,” said Jen after taking a deep breath
and letting it out. “Okay, I’m ready!” she smiled and they walked
back to the kitchen.

Jen sat next to her father and across from
the boy her uncle introduced as Arman. He was sixteen and the
youngest of four brothers. Uncle Mahmoud explained to Jen that he
worked with Arman’s father and oldest brother in the public works
ministry. Arman’s father was an engineer like Uncle Mahmoud. Arman
and his oldest brother were studying to be engineers as well.

Soon, Jen had forgotten the embarrassment
from earlier and was having a great time talking and listening to
everyone. She was content to participate when asked direct
questions and listen politely when the conversation carried on
without her. She amused herself when the others spoke Farsi by
silently assigning ridiculous meaning to the mysterious words. She
was sure her father wondered why she was smiling so
enthusiastically.
“He probably thinks I am just super happy to
be here!”
she mused. She almost laughed out loud at her own
cleverness when she imagined her dad, uncle, and Arman were talking
about making dresses, as they spoke seriously and used hand
gestures to emphasize descriptions of some sort of structure or
process.

Aunt Fatima watched her. She was obviously
amused that Jen was experiencing some sort of pleasure amidst the
serious discussion. “Jena,” she finally said. She was leaning in
close and speaking softly to avoid interrupting the ongoing
conversation between the men. “Would you like to go shopping with
me tomorrow? I would like to introduce you to some of my friends
and show you some more of Tehran. Would you like that?”

Jen smiled genuinely and nodded. ‘That would
be awesome! Yes, please!” she answered. She looked across the table
and caught Arman staring at her from underneath his bushy eyebrows.
He did something that looked a bit like a wink, but could have just
been a nervous tic.
“What the heck is he looking at?”
she
thought.
“Has he been staring at me long?"
Then, removing
all doubt, he raised one of his bushy eyebrows and smiled.
“Oh
brother,”
Jen thought. She looked away and tried to avoid him
for the rest of the evening.

When the adult conversation finally lulled
Jen asked her father politely, “Baba, can I go shopping with Aunt
Fatima tomorrow?"

Her father looked at her quizzically. Jen had
not called him Baba since she was a small child. He smiled and
slowly nodded his head in approval. “Yes, Jena,” he said. “You are
growing up my Little Bird. Masha’ Allah.”

Jen turned and grinned at her aunt. “How
exciting! I get to see the city tomorrow!" Her aunt smiled and
squeezed her shoulder affectionately.

A few minutes later, Armand left for the
evening and Unlce Mahmoud walked him to the door. Jen’s father
stretched his arms up into the air and yawned before standing up
and excusing himself from the table. The travel had finally caught
up with him and he was ready to sleep.

Jen was just about to excuse herself as well
when her uncle said something in Farsi to Aunt Fatima. Aunt Fatima
replied in a less than enthusiastic manner and looked
apologetically at Jen. Uncle Mahmoud grunted and took a drink of
Texas coffee from his new mug before suggesting, “Perhaps Armand
can join you as well? He is a good Muslim boy, Jena. Eh?”

Both adults looked to Jen for a response.
“Oh great!”
she thought.
“Seriously? Why do I always get
stuck with the weird boys?"
Memories of fourth grade and one
particularly long field trip sitting next to “Stinky”h Brian
Bradshaw, who was not even cute, came flooding back. Her best
friend Sarah was supposed to be her seat partner, but she had
wanted to sit next to the new boy, Michael Sawyer. Michael was
anything but stinky, and he was definitely cute. As it turned out,
Michael Sawyer liked a different girl anyway, so Jen’s sacrifice
was for nothing. She brought that up quite a few times over the
years; in fact, she made a mental note to bring it up again as soon
as she got back to Dallas. Swallowing her pride and biting the
sarcastic side of her tongue, Jen answered, “Of course, Uncle. That
would be nice." She even managed a weak smile.

Aunt Fatima stood up and put an arm around
her shoulder.
“At least somebody knows my pain,”
thought
Jen. Uncle Mahmoud grunted in satisfaction and took a last drink of
coffee. He set his mug on the table and stood up with a groan. He
laughed and said, “I sound like an old man!" He winked at Jen and
kissed Fatima on the cheek before saying good night to them both
and leaving the kitchen.

“Aunt Fatima,” Jen said, looking up at her
aunt. “
I don
’t want to be rude, but I’m
not interested in Armand. He kind of creeped me out.”

“Ugh, dear,” Fatima said dramatically. “Your
uncle and his ideas...” she shook her head. “That boy was hit by
the ugly stick." Jen nearly choked when she heard that and they
both laughed for quite some time.

That night, while lying in bed, Jen held her
arms outstretched above her and looked at the patterns of light and
shadow as she slowly moved her fingers through the air. It was
something she had done as long as she could remember. Sarah thought
it was weird, but to Jen it was…soothing. It was like watching a
mobile hanging from the ceiling as it slowly turned and twisted in
a gentle evening breeze. The house was silent, except for the
occasional creaking sounds all old houses make.

Just before drifting off to sleep, Jen folded
her hands on top of her chest, closed her eyes and prayed. She
asked God to watch over her mother and Sarah, and to help her be
nice to Armand tomorrow. She thanked him for watching over her and
her father as they traveled, and then finished, as always, by
asking, “Holy Spirit, please come to my father and mother. Help
them understand your power and your peace. In Jesus’ name, Amen."
It was a secret ritual she had performed every night since Sarah’s
eleventh birthday sleepover, when Sarah and Sarah’s mom had prayed
with her and led her to Jesus. Jen had been so afraid that her dad
would find out and punish her, but that had never happened. Now she
made excuses to stay at Sarah’s whenever she could, and attended
youth group with her on most Friday nights. She longed for the day
when she could talk openly to her parents about it. She had come so
close many times to confiding in her mother, but somehow she knew
that even she wouldn’
t understand.

The taxi dropped Jen and her Aunt near the
Tehran Bazaar. Jen could not believe how busy it was. There were so
many people and so much to see. It was overwhelming! Aunt Fatima
held Jen’s arm when they stepped out of the taxi and said, “Jena,
it is very important that you stay close to me. We are going to
have a wonderful time, but you must promise me that you will stay
close. Okay?"

“Yes, Aunt Fatima,” she answered with a
smile. “
I promise I
’ll stay right beside
you." Defiantly she thought,
“I’m not five."
Jen regretted
the childish thought and sighed when she remembered her prayer from
the night before, and how kind her aunt was being to her.
“I can
do better,”
she thought.

Jen looked toward the opening to the bazaar
and couldn’t even see inside it was so crowded. Among the swarms of
people she saw a familiar face. Armand walked toward them excitedly
from the bazaar entrance. Taking a breath, she resolved to be a
good person today. “Salaam,” she said with a polite smile when he
got closer.

“Salaam,” he said to Jen’s aunt first. Then
he turned to face Jen directly and said, “Salaam, Jena!” with an
obvious smile. Jen couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm from
seeing her.
“He’s kind of adorable in a dorky way,”
she
thought.
“I can’t wait to tell Sarah all about this!”

The three huddled closely together and weaved
their way into the crowded bazaar. The ceiling was suspended high
above their heads with beautiful ribbed arches. It reminded Jen of
a cathedral or a castle.
“Wow!”
she thought.
“This is so
cool!"
Aunt Fatima said something in Farsi to Armand and he
stepped back to get behind Jen. “Is everything okay?” asked
Jen.

“Of course, Jena,” said her aunt. “I asked
Armand to walk behind us and keep an eye on you." When she saw
Jen’s startled expression, she calmly explained, “There is so much
to see, and you will be distracted by everything. I don’t want you
to get left behind.”

“Oh,” said Jen, still not sure she liked the
idea of Armand watching her from behind.
“Well, I guess I can
think of him as a bodyguard,”
she decided.
“Look for the
silver lining,”
she thought. Trying to ignore the awkwardness,
she smiled and asked, “Where are we going first?”

Her aunt laughed and put her arm around Jen.
“Are women so different in America? We’ll go to the look and
clothes and jewelry first, of course! Come, I’ll show you some of
my favorite shops." Arm in arm, Jen and her aunt made their way
through the bazaar. They stopped at several shops to look at
traditional clothing, handmade jewelry and crafts. As they walked
on, Jen realized that the bazaar was not contained in a single
alley or building. It was a web of interconnected streets, alleys,
storefronts and kiosks that would have been easy to get lost in if
she had been alone. She made a mental note to thank her aunt and
Armand for watching over her.

A vendor with cell phone accessories caught
her eye and she stepped closer. She only intended to peek at it
from a distance, but some of the cases appeared to have intricate
designs painted on them. It reminded Jen of the ladies she saw here
in the market with jeweled facial piercings and beautiful makeup,
framed within a dramatic black hijab.
“I’ll only be a minute,
she thought."
She walked closer to the display and looked
closely at the cases. Everything was so colorful and many of the
accessories were fixed with rhinestones or sequins. Jen was more
interested in the beautifully painted cases without the additional
“shiny stuff” that younger girls would go crazy for. She picked up
a white case with black scrollwork. The flowing design was much
more sophisticated than the other cases on the wall. She turned it
over and nearly coughed at the price tag. “150,000!” she mouthed
silently. Then she remembered her father saying something about the
exchange rate. It was somewhere near thirty thousand Iranian rial
to one US dollar. “That would make this case around five dollars!"
Jen turned to ask her aunt if she could buy it.

“
Where is she?”
Jen turned in a
circle.
“Where is Armand?"
They were gone! Realizing she had
done this to herself, she pressed her lips together and quickly
inhaled and exhaled through her nose.
“This is not good."
Jen took a couple of steps away from the kiosk to look up and down
the bazaar.
“There are just too many people here!"
She tried
standing on her tip toes, but that made no difference.

A strong hand gripped her arm. She gasped.
Jen was spun around and stood face to face with the shop keeper. He
looked angry. He said something Jen didn’t understand and gestured
at the phone case she was still holding.
“Oh!”
Jen thought.
She held it out to him and tried to apologize. He snatched it from
her and turned back to his store. Jen quickly moved down the street
in the direction her aunt had been moving. She didn’t want any more
trouble.
“What if I can’t find them?”
she thought.
“I
have no money and no phone. I don’t even know how to tell a taxi
where to take me."
She frantically searched the faces
surrounding her for her aunt or Armand.
“Please!”
she begged
Jesus quietly.
“Please, help me find them!"