Rooftops of Tehran (28 page)

At some point Apple Face gives me an injection and I fall asleep.

When I wake, my parents are in the room having a quiet conversation with Apple Face. I remember Zari, and the world collapses anew on top of me. Tears rush to my eyes and something inside me twists, then snaps, discoloring the world so that it is an ugly place. I wonder how I’m going to get through the day, through the next five minutes. My mother must know what’s going on in my head because as soon as I open my eyes, she begins to cry.

I think I reach for my sleeve, this time with my teeth. I don’t feel the pain in my arm but recognize the blood that reddens my sheet. Apple Face rushes toward me. Then I see nurses, and the weeping faces of my parents, but I don’t hear anything except a continuous hum.

I dream that Zari and I are sitting on either side of a tumbling brook. She’s telling me that she loves me, and that I shouldn’t mourn her death because death is not that much different from life. She says Doctor is not angry with me for falling in love with his girl, and begs me not to be angry at God, assuring me that God is kind, fair, and generous. She reminds me that there must be death so that there can be life, that there must be lies so that there can be truth, that there must be darkness so that there can be light. She wants me to know that she will always be beside me—but that I should forget her and try to live a long and prosperous life. I get up and try to cross the brook, but my steps take me nowhere.

I feel as if I’m dying when I wake up. Dr. Sana—my Apple Face—tries to calm me down. I hear every word she says, but don’t understand. Apple Face doesn’t go home that night. Her husband calls and Apple Face puts him on the speaker. He says hello to me. He has a deep but friendly voice. He says he’s sorry, and that he is going to come and see me soon. I should hang in there and take heart, for all will be fine. His wife is a great doctor and she will make sure that I have the best care in the world. I don’t say anything. After a while he says good-bye and hangs up, and I dissolve again. My life will not go on without Zari.

I like the tranquil feeling that has engulfed me when I open my eyes. My eyelids are so heavy I can hardly blink. My father says something about going to the northern part of Iran, where we have a villa on the foothills of the Alborz Mountains, with a view of the green waters of the Caspian Sea. Most of my parents’ family members live in the northern states. Apple Face says that she will miss me when I leave. I hear their words but my mind is slow to process them.

They talk about when I get better, and I wonder how someone like me gets better.

“Time is the cure for all things,” my father says to Apple Face, as he looks in my worn-out eyes. Time is the most precious commodity humans possess, and it no longer has any value for me. Suddenly, I succumb to a wave of anxiety. I am not aware I have moved until Apple Face runs toward me and holds my shoulders, and I feel yet another pinch in my arm.

 

Apple Face’s husband comes to the hospital to see me. He’s a young handsome man, tall and athletic with large black eyes, thick black eyebrows, and a mustache that makes him look like a young Mark Twain. Dr. Sana introduces him as Yahya, and he shakes my hand and sits in a chair by my bed. He has a pleasant disposition, and he tells me that he’s been hearing a lot about me, and wanted to meet me in person. I’m not sure what to say in return. He says that he, Azar, and their child are planning to take a vacation in a couple of months, and that I should go with them. I gently shake my head no, realizing that Azar is Dr. Sana’s first name.

I fall asleep while everyone is still in the room, and when I wake up the next morning I’m crushed that Zari didn’t come to my dreams for another visit. She promised she’d always be beside me. Is she in the room now?

“I miss you,” I say out loud, my voice thick, my words slurred and slow with tears. “How could you leave me in this miserable life without you? Why didn’t you tell me? I broke my shin in three places when I was four and didn’t cry; now I cry until I run out of tears.”

I mumble that she owes me an explanation because when two people love each other they don’t do stupid things like that. How would she have liked it if the situation were reversed? I’m sure she wouldn’t have liked it because she begged me in my dream to live a long and happy life, and how can I do that when the sole source of my happiness has flown?

I sob loudly, and I don’t care if the whole world hears me. I hope she can see me, and I hope she’s sorry for what she did.

I cry myself to sleep. When I wake, the old man is sitting in a chair next to my bed. We stare into each other’s eyes as he rocks back and forth.

“What has brought you here, my friend?” I whisper. “Have you lost someone, too?” The old man rocks forward and back, and the creak of the chair is almost soothing. “I cursed God last night,” I tell him, “and he didn’t bring the roof down on my head. I’m going to curse him again tonight, and the next night, and the night after that until he gets tired of hearing my insults. He’s never going to bring her back to me, so I’m going to make him take me to her.” I reach inside myself, looking for something to hang on to, but I feel myself drifting away.

Ahmed’s Star

I spend a total of three months in the hospital. During this time, I learn to accept my fate, but lose my faith. I’m now an atheist, just like Doctor. I no longer blame God for anything—after all, how can you blame a being that doesn’t exist?

Some afternoons I walk in the hallways or in the yard. Seeing the condition of some of the other patients and the degree of their suffering only intensifies my discontent.

I learn during this time that I was taken directly to a hospital from the scene of Zari’s suicide. It took less than a week for the experts to decide that the blow to my head had not caused serious damage and the mild burns on my hands and arms did not require drastic intervention. The doctor who treated me believed that my silence and occasional outbursts were psychological and I was placed under Dr. Sana’s care.

Apple Face believed that I had unconsciously wiped certain events from my memory, censoring anything that took place after I told Ahmed that I loved Zari. The world before that moment was less complex, so that’s where time had stopped.

The SAVAK, which had thoroughly investigated Doctor’s activities, knew that none of us was connected to his political group. Their interrogations of Ahmed confirmed their beliefs. The way Ahmed and I responded to Zari’s situation at the scene further convinced the SAVAK that Zari committed the act without consulting any of us.

During my time at the institution, I also learn that Dr. Sana and her family are of the Baha’i faith. In the past four years, Islamic extremists burned down her home, and her husband was attacked and beaten up several times by strangers late at night. Yahya has bought two Dobermans to guard their home, but the fear remains. Dr. Sana says they will leave for Australia as soon as their immigration papers are in order. She can’t handle the pain and suffering anymore, and she doesn’t want her child to be raised in an atmosphere of constant fear and consternation. Her parents have already left the country, and it won’t be long before her brothers and sisters leave, too.

During my stay at the hospital, I also learn the old man’s story. He was an affluent, reputable merchant in Bazaar. His first wife died about fifteen years ago and left him with three sons, who lived with their brides in his huge house. The old man’s sons were responsible for managing his business, and he spent most of his time alone and in dire need of a companion. Eventually he married a woman considerably younger than himself. She took care of him, and some even say she loved him very much. He adored her, and gave her anything she wanted. The young wife fit right in with the daughters-in-law, who were about the same age, give or take a couple of years. Then, a year ago, the old man was diagnosed with cancer. It was a devastating blow to the whole family.

The old man wanted to make sure that his loved ones were well taken care of after his death, so he rewrote his will and divided his property equally among his children and his young bride. This infuriated his oldest son.

One day, when the old man was out of the house, the oldest son went to the young bride’s room and accused her of being a gold digger and a scoundrel. A thunderous fight broke out between the two, and attracted the other two sons into the room. The oldest son attacked her and beat her savagely. His brothers and their wives tried to intervene, but it was too late. She was dead by the time the police and the paramedics arrived. The oldest son is in jail for life, and the old man lost his mind the minute he learned of his wife’s death. He’s been here ever since. His condition is deteriorating fast.

“He doesn’t have much time left,” Apple Face says sadly.

 

While in the hospital, I learn that Ahmed has been released from prison. My father says the SAVAK has cleared all of us.

“Why didn’t they go after me?” I ask.

“Well, first because of your condition. And second, they knew you had nothing to do with Doctor’s activities.”

“Then why did they keep Ahmed?”

“Only to make sure, and confirm what they already knew. It’s not unusual for the SAVAK to do that.”

The news of Ahmed’s release fills me with an indescribable joy. This must be the first time I have smiled since hearing about Zari’s death.

“Where is Zari buried?” I ask Dad, when I finally have the courage to do so.

“The family hasn’t been notified yet,” Dad says with a pained look in his eyes.

I don’t sleep well that night. It’s raining outside, and for the first time I think about Zari in a grave, out there in the rain. Shivers run down my spine. I remember her telling me that she will always be beside me, and I try to keep my mind busy with the thought of her nestled warm in my arms.

I suddenly remember my dream of Doctor walking into the trees with Ahmed and Zari. “He took Zari. He took Ahmed,” I keep repeating to myself. A massive anxiety attack throws me into a state of delirium. I begin to sweat, and my body starts to shiver. Could they be lying to me, my parents and Apple Face? We Persians like to protect each other from bad news for as long as possible. A couple of years ago, a seventy-year-old man died in our alley. His daughter was a student at a London university at the time. Her family kept the death of her father from her for a year. Every time she called she was told that her father was out of town, on a business trip, out shopping, or at a relative’s house. “Why does she need to know now?” they reasoned. “He’s gone, and her grief will not bring him back. She is in the middle of her semester and doesn’t need the distraction.”

They must be lying to me about Ahmed. I think of the dream again. I was in a pasture with Zari, Faheemeh, and Ahmed. Doctor walked out of the woods nearby, reading the poetry of Rumi. He kept his distance from us. Zari leaned in and kissed me and then she and Ahmed followed Doctor into the woods. It all makes sense now. Ahmed is dead, too! I burst into tears and begin to scream and demand to see my father.

When my father comes to the hospital, I tell him that I want to see Ahmed’s mother because if Ahmed is dead, she won’t be able to hide it from me. My skin is too tight for my pain and I want to scream as loud as I can to free myself from the prison of my body. My father swears on my life that Ahmed is not dead. Ordinarily, my father would never swear on my life or tell a lie, but something tells me that he may under these circumstances. This is the kind of obligatory lie God forgives, according to my grandmother.

“Why hasn’t he come to see me if he’s alive?” I ask.

“Because it may not be safe,” my father responds.

“I thought you said we’re clear.”

“You are.”

“Then why is it dangerous for him to see me?”

My father seems flustered, struggling for an answer. I demand to see Ahmed’s mother. Dad and Dr. Sana look at each other. Then they leave the room to talk.

 

 

Later that night I’m in my bed, tossing and turning. I hear Ahmed imitating Grandma: “If my husband were here, he would kick your ass!” I jump out of the bed and run toward him. He’s standing by the door. We hold each other tightly for a while, just like my father and Mr. Mehrbaan did the first time they met after eighteen years. My father and Dr. Sana watch with moist eyes, and then they leave the room. Ahmed looks skinny and weak, as if he has not been fed for a long time.

“You’ve lost weight,” I say.

“I’ve been exercising a lot lately,” he says, a warm smile on his face.

“Exercising?”

“Yeah, you know.” He looks uncomfortable with the topic, so I let it go.

“They told you not to see me, right?” I ask. “Otherwise, you would have come earlier.”

“They never said it, but everyone, especially your dad, thought it’d be safer this way.”

“We’re not totally clear, are we?” I ask, referring to the SAVAK.

“We are. But with the SAVAK you never know.”

“Why hasn’t anyone from the SAVAK come to talk to me?”

“They know that we were just friends of Doctor’s. They won’t bother us anymore.”

I shake my head and we’re quiet for a while. Once we promised each other not to cry at Doctor’s grave. Both of us are working hard to hold back our tears now. I ask Ahmed if Faheemeh is okay and he says that she is. He kisses my cheek and says it is from her. He and Faheemeh and everyone else in the alley have been taking great care of the rosebush I planted in Doctor’s honor. People from all over come to the alley to see it. “They treat that plant like a consecrated memorial,” he says.

“We have great people in our neighborhood.”

After a few minutes, I ask Ahmed if they hurt him in jail, and he says that no one even touched him. I think he’s lying but I don’t pursue the subject. He says that he and Faheemeh can’t wait for me to get out of here. Then we stare at each other, both of us knowing that we want to talk about Zari. I almost burst into tears. Ahmed puts his arms around me without saying anything.