The Book of Fate (16 page)

‘But you don't have any problems with Haji Agha,' I said. ‘The poor man leaves you alone.'

‘Huh! You see him now that he's old and sick and has lost his pluck. You don't know what a wolf he was, how he attacked me that first night, how I was shaking and crying, how he beat me. Back then, he was rich and he still believed that if a woman doesn't get pregnant it is because there is something wrong with her. He was a big shot and really full of himself. He did unspeakable things to me. The moment I heard the front door and knew that he was home, I would start shaking from head to toe. I was just a child and I was terrified of him. But when by the grace of God he went bankrupt, lost everything, and the doctors told him he had a problem and could never have any children, it was like taking a needle to a balloon, all the air went out of him. Overnight, he aged twenty years and everyone abandoned him. By then I was older and stronger and had more courage. I could stand up to him or walk out on him. Now, he's afraid that I, too, will desert him and so he leaves me alone. Today, it's my turn to run wild; but what about the youth and health that he stole from me? I can never get them back…'

We sat in silence for a while. She shook her head as if she wanted to rid herself of her memories. And then she said, ‘By the way, why haven't you gone to visit your parents?'

‘Why should I visit them? What good did they do for me?'

‘What? After all, they're your parents.'

‘They threw me out of the house. I will never go there again.'

‘Don't say that; it's sinful. They are expecting you.'

‘No, Mrs Parvin. I can't. Don't talk about it any more.'

 

Three weeks had passed of my married life when one morning the doorbell rang. I was surprised. I had no one who would come to visit me. I ran to the door and saw Mother and Mrs Parvin standing there. I was taken aback and coldly said hello.

‘Hello, madam!' Mrs Parvin said. ‘It seems you're having a really good time, the way you left and never looked back. Your mother was dying of sorrow. I told her, “Let's go so you can see for yourself that your daughter is well.”'

‘Where have you been, girl?' Mother asked, crossly. ‘I've been worried sick. For three weeks we've had our eyes glued to the door, waiting for you. Don't you ever tell yourself that you have a mother and a father? That there are customs and traditions?'

‘Really!' I said. ‘Which customs and traditions do you mean?'

Mrs Parvin motioned with her head for me to keep quiet and then she said, ‘At least invite us in. This poor woman has walked a long way in this heat.'

‘Very well,' I said. ‘Please come in.'

As she climbed the stairs, Mother grumbled, ‘The day after the marriage ceremony, we sat up until all hours of the night waiting for our groom to come visit us. No one came. Then we said maybe you'll come the next day, we said maybe this Friday, we said maybe next Friday. Finally, I said the girl must be dead, something has happened to her. How could someone leave her father's house and never look back? As if she never had a father and a mother to whom she is indebted.'

We were in the middle of the hall when I suddenly couldn't stand listening to her any more.

‘Indebted?' I snapped. ‘Why am I indebted to you? Because you made me? Did I ask to be conceived for me to now feel obligated to you? It was all for your own pleasure, and when you found out I was a girl, you mourned and grieved and regretted having had me. What have you ever done for me? I begged you to let me go to school. Did you? I begged you not to force me into marriage, to let me live in that miserable house for another year or two. Did you? How much did you beat me? How many times did I come close to dying? How many months did you keep me locked up in that house?'

Mother was weeping and Mrs Parvin was looking at me with horror. But the anger and frustration in my heart had erupted and I couldn't suppress it.

‘From as far back as I can remember, you have said a girl belongs to others, and you were quick to hand me over to others. You were so desperate to get rid of me that you didn't even care who you were handing me over to. Wasn't it you who dragged me out from under the bed so that you could throw me out all the quicker? Wasn't it you who said that I had to leave that house so Mahmoud could get married? Well, you threw me out. I now belong to others. And you expect me to kiss your hand? Excellent! Well done!'

‘That's enough, Massoumeh!' Mrs Parvin scolded. ‘You should be ashamed of yourself. Look at what you're doing to this poor woman. No matter what, they are your parents, they raised you. Doesn't your father love you enough? He wanted everything for you. Did he not worry enough for you? I saw what this woman went through while you were sick. She sat with you every night until dawn and she cried and prayed for you. You were never an ungrateful girl. All parents, even the worst ones, deserve their child's gratitude. Whether you like it or not, you are indebted to them and it is your duty to observe and recognise this; otherwise, God will be offended and he will turn his anger on you.'

I felt calmer, I felt unburdened. The hatred and spite that had been bothering me like a pus-filled boil was draining out and Mother's tears soothed my pain like a salve.

‘My duty as their child? Very well; I will observe my duties as their child. I don't want to end up being the guilty party.' Then I turned to Mother and said, ‘If you ever need me to do anything for you, I will do it, but don't expect me to forget what you did to me.'

Weeping even harder, Mother said, ‘Go bring a knife and cut this hand that dragged you by your hair out from under the bed. I swear to God I will feel better, I will suffer less. A hundred times a day, I tell myself, May God break your arm, woman; how could you beat that innocent child like that? But my girl, if I hadn't done what I did, do you know what would have happened? Your brothers would have cut you into tiny pieces. On the one hand, from early that morning, Ahmad kept telling me, “If this girl starts acting up and embarrassing us, I will set her on fire.” And on the other hand, your father's heart had been aching all week. It was thanks to pills and medications that he made it through that day. I was terrified he was going to have a heart attack. What was I to do? I swear, my heart was breaking, but I didn't know what else to do.'

‘You mean you didn't want to marry me off?'

‘Yes, I did. I prayed a thousand times a day that a decent man would show up, take your hand and save you from that house. Do you think I didn't know how sad and unhappy you were in that prison? You were getting thinner and sallower by the day. My heart broke every time I looked at you. I prayed and made pledges to God for you to find a good husband and to be set free. Grieving for you was killing me.'

The kindness of her words was thawing the ice of my stubborn anger. I said, ‘Now, stop crying.' And I went and brought three glasses of chilled sherbet.

To change the mood, Mrs Parvin said, ‘Well, well! What a clean and organised home you have. By the way, did you like your bed and dressing table? I chose them myself.'

‘Yes, Mrs Parvin worked very hard during that time,' Mother said. ‘We are all grateful to her.'

‘I am, too.'

‘Oh, please stop! Don't embarrass me. What hard work? It was a pleasure. No matter what I chose for you, your father bought it without a moment's hesitation. I had never shopped like that. If I had asked him to buy the Shah's furniture for you, he would have bought it. It's obvious the dear man truly loves you. Ahmad was constantly yelling, why I was racking up so many expenses, but your father wanted to do it for you. He kept saying, “I want everything to be respectable. I want her to be able to hold her head up high in front her husband's family. I don't want them to say she didn't have a proper dowry.”'

Still sniffling, Mother said, ‘The sofas he ordered for you are ready. He is waiting to see when would be a convenient time for you so that he can have them delivered.'

I sighed. ‘Well, how is he feeling now?'

‘What can I say? He's not well.'

She wiped her eyes with the tip of her headscarf and said, ‘That's what I wanted to talk to you about. It's all right if you don't want to see me, but your father is dying of sorrow. He doesn't talk to anyone in the house and he has started smoking again, one cigarette after the other, and he is coughing non-stop. I'm afraid for him, I'm afraid something bad is going to happen to him. Just for his sake, stop by the house. I don't want you to regret not having seen him.'

‘God forbid! Don't be a naysayer. I'll come. I'll come this week. I'll see when Hamid has time; and if he doesn't have time, I'll come myself.'

‘No my dear, that's not right. You have to do as your husband wishes. I don't want him to get upset.'

‘No, he won't be upset. Don't worry, I'll arrange it.'

 

Hamid made it clear to me that he had no interest in or patience for family visits and he encouraged me to build an independent social life for myself. He even wrote down a bus guide, sketched out the various routes and explained when it would be best to take a taxi. A few days later, on an afternoon in mid-August when I knew Hamid was not going to be home, I got dressed and went to my parents' house. It was strange; the house had so soon become ‘theirs' and no longer ‘mine'. Do other girls become strangers in their family homes this quickly?

It was the first time I had gone out alone and travelled a long distance by bus. Although I was a bit nervous, I liked that sense of independence. I felt I was an adult. When I reached my old neighbourhood, different emotions stirred up in me. The thought of Saiid made my heart ache and walking past Parvaneh's old house made me miss her all the more. Worried that I might start crying in the middle of the street, I started to walk faster, but the closer I got to Father's house, the weaker my legs felt. I didn't want to come face to face with the people in the neighbourhood. I was embarrassed.

Tears welled up in my eyes when Faati greeted me at the door, jumped into my arms and started to cry. She begged me to move back to the house or take her away with me. When I walked in, Ali didn't move from where he was sitting. He just shouted at Faati, ‘Stop snivelling! Didn't I tell you to go fetch my socks?'

It was close to dusk when Ahmad came home. He was already drunk and in a stupor. Completely ignoring the fact that it had been almost a month since he had last seen me, he took whatever it was he had left behind and went out again. When Mahmoud arrived, he scowled, mumbled something in answer to my hello and went upstairs.

‘You see, Mother, I shouldn't have come. Even if I visit once a year, it will still upset them.'

‘No, my girl, it's not about you. Mahmoud is angry over something else. He hasn't talked to anyone in a week.'

‘Why? What's the matter with him?'

‘Don't you know? The other week we got all dressed up, bought pastries, fruit and a few lengths of fabric, and went to Qum to see your father's sister to ask for Mahboubeh's hand for our Mahmoud.'

‘Well?'

‘Nothing came of it. It wasn't meant to be. A week earlier, she had given her consent to marry someone else. They hadn't told us out of spite, because we hadn't invited them to your marriage ceremony. Of course, it's all for the best. I wasn't happy about the two of them getting married… with that witch of a mother. It was Mahmoud who kept talking about his cousin – Mahboubeh this and Mahboubeh that.'

I felt a kind of joy fill my entire being and I understood the meaning of ‘sweet revenge' with every cell in my body. I said to myself, You are so vindictive! And someone inside me replied, He deserves it; let him suffer.

‘You can't imagine how your aunt bragged about the groom. She said he's the son of an ayatollah, but he has gone to university and is modern thinking. Then she went on and on about his wealth and property. Poor Mahmoud, he was so angry he wouldn't have bled even if you had stabbed him with a knife. His face was so red I thought he was going to have a heart attack. And then they made a few snide remarks about how they were going to trim the house with lights and celebrate the wedding for seven days and seven nights, that one should marry off a girl with pride, not in secret and in a rush, and that if an aunt isn't going to be invited to her niece's wedding, then who is…'

 

I was in the room when Father came home. I went and stood by the wall so he wouldn't see me; it was darker inside than it was outside. He held on to the door frame with one hand, leaned his left ankle on his right knee and started to untie his shoelace.

‘Hello,' I said, gently.

His foot dropped to the floor and he peered around in the dimness. For a few seconds he looked at me with a smile full of kindness and then he raised his foot back up to his knee and as he continued to take his shoes off, he said, ‘What a surprise! You remembered us?'

‘I always remember you.'

He shook his head, put on his slippers and, just like old times, I handed him his towel. He looked at me with reproachful eyes and said, ‘I never thought you would be this unfaithful.' There was a big lump in my throat. These were the kindest words he could have spoken.

During dinner, he kept putting everything in front of me and talking fast. I had never known him to be this talkative. Mahmoud didn't come down to eat.

‘Well, tell me,' Father said, laughing. ‘What do you feed your husband for lunch and dinner? Do you even know how to cook? I heard he wants to come and complain about you!'

‘Who? Hamid? The poor man never complains about food. He eats whatever I put in front of him. As a matter of fact, he says, “I don't want you to waste your time cooking.”'

‘Huh! Then what are you supposed to do?'

‘He says I have to continue my education.'