Deliverance (17 page)

My 
situation
. Because I'm a wild girl that goes to parties now. Maman recently admitted she got in all sorts of trouble when 
she
 was young. It's not fair.

The faint ding of an incoming text message catches my attention. This is the third message I've heard. I missed a call earlier too. What if Leyli is trying to reach me? I'm home alone, so I can't ask for permission, but I'm sure Maman and Bijan would understand. I don’t mean to disobey them, but I have to do this for Leyli.

The first place I check is the kitchen drawer. But all I find there is junk. Next, I check the shelf above the closet and a few other places they often use to stash junk, but I can't find it anywhere.

I gaze at Maman and Bijan's bedroom. I know I shouldn't go snooping in there. But where else could it be? Still, the idea of going through their things makes me uncomfortable. What if I find something awkward? I shrug and go for it. For Leyli’s sake.

I start with their drawers but find nothing. I'm about to move to the night table when I consider the house phone. I could just call my number and find my phone that way. I pick up the receiver and dial my number. The ring isn't coming from in here. As I exit my parents’ room, I run into Ebi.

"What are you doing home?" I ask.

He raises his eyebrows and shrugs.

"Please don't tell Maman and Bijan."

He gives me the same gesture again. Little brothers are so frustrating.

"Are you going to get that?" He points towards the hallway closet where the ringing is coming from.

I don't answer him and make my way for the front closet. There, I find my phone buried deep in Bijan's jacket pocket.

"Got it!" I turn to secure a promise from Ebi that he won’t tell our parents but he’s gone. Whatever. I flick my fingers across the screen and find I have four new text messages and one missed call.

The first message is from Siavash reminding me of band practice tonight. The next message stops my breath. It's from Leyli.

“Hey, I'm with Ramtin. Sorry.”

I don't know what to make of it. Doesn't she understand how worried everyone is? At least I now know she's not dead. I text her back.

“Where are you? Everyone is worried about you. Are you okay? Your parents are so scared for you.”

I stare at my phone. But if Leyli got my message, she isn't answering right away. I try to call her but, once again, there’s no answer. Oh Leyli, what is going on with you?

I have a message from an unknown number, and one from Ehsan. I check Ehsan's first.

“What's up?”

Really? 
What's up?
 That's all he has to say to me? I resist texting him back. I guess things are over between us, but I'm not sure what happened. If Leyli wasn’t missing, she’d probably be able to analyze it with me. She’d even find a solution for getting him back. If I want him back.

I open the last message and it’s completely unexpected. The cute foreigner guy. What's that saying about closing doors and opening windows? Maybe Garnier is my opened window. I smile to myself, but my smile fades. Leyli likes him. Though obviously she likes Ramtin more, so I can't really feel sorry for her, can I?

Maybe she's Ramtin's girlfriend now. I should be happy for her. This could be her ticket to the ultra glamorous and sexy rock and roll life she's always wanted. But the problem is that each time I think of Ramtin, my stomach knots up and I want to puke.

My vision blurs and this time I recognize what's happening, so I try to fight it. I manage long enough to text Garnier to invite him to hang out with us at band practice but I haven't even finished pressing send yet when I'm suddenly in Esfahan. Garnier is there too. His dress is strange, like he is wearing a costume from those Victorian movies. My own robe looks like those traditional village costumes people wear for Nowruz pageants, so maybe I shouldn't judge.

 Garnier's eyes are soft when he looks at me. Softer than I remember them. Though another part of me tells me that Garnier has always looked at us with such soft eyes. That we are the hard ones. We are the one who could not let his love save our frozen heart.

His love? Garnier loves a part of me. At least he used to. Over three hundred years ago. What is he? What am I? That voice that is me but isn't me knows what I am, but I can't quite reach that knowledge and I'm scared. What if I somehow release that other personality and she takes over. What if I stop existing? I’m already less myself and more her. I turn away from Garnier in this memory. I turn away but not before I see the disappointment in his eyes. There is someone else I need to find. Someone who has been my rival since I first became what I am now, maybe before. Actually, I don't know if I love him or I hate him. But I have to find him. It's a mistake. I know this, but the girl in my memory didn't know.

I find him in a secluded corner of the courtyard. He’s speaking with someone. A creature of smokeless fire. I rub the goosebumps on my arms. A Jinni. It can't see me yet, so I back away. I owe them. They know it. I will never be free of my debt.

Ramtin plays nice with them. He does what they ask. But I can't. I quit playing those games a long time ago. It's why I'm barely hanging on to my court positions these days. It's why I had to collaborate with Ramtin. But as long as I'm in league with Ramtin, I can't be free of the Jinn. He will never give up the power he gets through them. I need to leave him.

I try to find Garnier but he’s left for his next stop along his journey. I knew he would leave soon. Yet, I'm devastated.

Siavash leads me through the back of Amir-Reza’s father’s restaurant and down a set of stairs to the rough space where band practice is held. This area is not as glamorous as Davood’s studio, but it’s cozy. Eggs cartons painted a glossy black provide the sound insulation and a funky modern vibe to the space. Instead of the habitual Persian carpets, a sleek, though cheap-looking, floating laminate floor covers the ground. A worn and damaged leather loveseat is tucked in a corner, while a few random cushions litter the floor space around it. Some knee-high wooden crates hold a glass top to form a sort of coffee table on which sits an ashtray, a hookah, and some English books and magazines.

In the corner opposite the furniture are the instruments. I walk towards them and examine them. They are well used, and mid-range quality. These kids try hard to appear posh, and from a distance they pull it off, but everything here is a little worn, and most-likely obtained second-hand. I take a second look at the instruments. There is no harp. Was I supposed to bring my own?

"No harp?"

"Oh, Davood said he would bring the one from the studio, but he's late. Actually Roxana was supposed to be here by now too."

Just then some grunts resonate from the narrow stairs and Davood and Garnier appear in the doorway carrying a harp. Not the one from the studio, but the one from the store. It's been repaired, though it’s still a little worse for wear.

They place it by the other instruments and stand around awkwardly. When I look at the harp, the ground around me spins a little. This harp and her sister play center stage in the weird issues I'm having. I turn away from it and kneel down to examine a canvas leaning against the wall. The artwork is amazing. A combination of mosaic tiles, ink and paint. A woman is the main subject. And though at first glance she appears to be painted in a style that reminds me of traditional miniatures, she is full size, and her make-up and the somber colors of her clothing are modern. But it's not what grabs my attention.

It's me. Playing the harp. I stand up and back away from the piece, and nearly knock down Amir-Reza who was just coming in with platters of steaming saffron rice with barberry and boiled chicken. The ever present smell of saffron and turmeric that already wafted in from the above restaurant amplifies and grounds me in reality. No visions for me this time. For now.

"She looks like you, doesn't she?" he says as he puts the plates down on the coffee table. "Roxana said it was a sign that we met you the day after we got this piece of artwork from the restaurant."

"From the restaurant?"

"One of my father's regular patrons gave it to him and said it was for me. People give things to my father a lot, but nothing this beautiful before. He said the girl belonged in my band. My father was shocked since he didn't think this customer knew I had a band. Anyway, we decided he must have meant to be in this space. See, Roxana and Siavash helped decorate this space for my father to use for special events. In return, we get to use it whenever it isn't booked."

My heart sinks. "So this is why you wanted me in your band?"

“Davood didn't know about the painting. He wanted you because he thought you had talent. We agreed with him so fast even though we know nothing about you because of the painting."

"Where is Roxana, anyway?" Garnier asks.

I'd forgotten he was here. Since when do I forget the presence of cute rich boys? Leyli would be so disappointed in me. I miss Leyli. Like real heart-tightening miss her. I never realized how much I relied on her and how alone I would be without her. Even surrounded by people, I am alone without her.

"She's not answering her phone," says Amir-Reza between spoonfuls of rice. He's the only one already eating. The rest of us are standing around awkwardly.

"I guess we can practice without vocals," Siavash says.

"No, we need to get the timing right with the vocals."

The boys are both tense and Garnier and I share a look. I guess I'm not completely alone. Garnier is here and I know him well inside my heart. Though that scares me as much as anything.

Just the fact I’m casually considering the idea of him being some sort of ageless creature is absurd. But I have to admit, I'm comfortable with it. More or less.

“Maybe Nakissa can help,” he says.

“Me? How?”

“You can sing the songs.”

“I’m not the singing type.”

Garnier shrugs. “I think you are. But, even if I’m wrong, it doesn’t matter. You can sing now just to help out.”

“Yeah Nakissa. You’re the only girl here and the songs were definitely written in a female perspective,” Farhad says.

“Hey, if anyone other than Nakissa could pull off a female perspective, it would be you, Farhad.”

The boys all start teasing each other but I don’t participate. I didn’t realize I’m the only girl here until they pointed it out. So what I’m the only girl in a room full of boys? It’s about the music, not anything else.

It’s about the music, and I feel like singing. “I’ll do it.”

They shrug and Farhad goes off to find me the music sheets with the lyrics. I press my lips together. It’s not like I expected them to sing my praises for agreeing to sing, but they could have been more grateful.

People used to be very grateful to be allowed to hear me play. I sit in front of the harp and wait for the strange visions to come over me, but they don’t. What I’m feeling isn’t overwhelming. Just a vague memory from a long time ago. I used to play for kings. I was beloved at court, powerful in my own way. Now who am I? I don’t even know if I’m an ageless immortal musician or simply a teenage girl with issues. I stroke the harp’s strings. Whoever I am, I belong here.

The boys give me a few minutes to go over the lyrics but I don’t know what to do with them. How can I just sing a song I’ve never really paid attention to before? Each time Roxana sang, I’d been already lost in my weird visions. This time, it won’t be an honor to hear me. Maybe I should refuse. We can practice without singing.

But I catch the way Garnier looks at me. He believes in me. There is not a doubt in his mind because he knows I can sing. He’s had the honor of hearing me before. I’ve disappointed him before and I won’t do it now.

“I’m ready.” I’m anything but.

The others take their places and Davood excuses himself while Garnier grabs a plate of food and settles down on the couch. This is it. I look at the music sheet again. I know how to read this. I make a few calculations and mental adjustments to the music in front of me. Farhad starts the beat on the drums, and I begin plucking the melody on the strings of the harp for a several seconds before Amir-Reza and Siavash follow us with the guitar and bass.