The Blood of Flowers (34 page)

An owl cried out near the house, claiming the dark. I couldn't even claim half of Fereydoon's bed. I leaned against the wall and wrapped my arms around my body, holding myself in the night. Fereydoon never noticed that I had left. At dawn, I forced myself to curl up on the bedroll, for I didn't dare anger him with my absence. When he awoke, I feigned sleep until he was gone.

THE NEXT AFTERNOON, I walked to the hammam in search of Homa, not knowing who else to confide in. It was a gusty day, and the wind blew my chador around my legs and threw grit into my eyes through my picheh. The weather was still chilly, and the clay houses near the hammam seemed to huddle together against the wind. A child's head wrap flew by, chased by an anxious mother and her little boy. The wind made a low, lonely sound as it pursued them through the alley.

It was a relief to go inside. I shook the dust out of my chador and searched for Homa until I found her in the clothes-changing section of the hammam, which she was cleaning before it opened for women. I must have looked as green as fenugreek, because she immediately opened her arms to me and kept me enclosed while I confessed everything. I don't think I've ever talked so much. When I was done, it was very quiet, and Homa was still cradling me like a child. She led me to some cushions, stretched out my legs, and fitted a pillow under my head. Then she dotted my body with rose water to give me strength.

"Did you know?" I asked.

"I suspected," she replied, her eyes sympathetic, "but I didn't guess the man."

"Did I do wrong?"

"In the eyes of God, you were legally married," she said calmly.

"But did I?"

"What do you think?"

I sighed and looked away.

"Poor child!" she said. "I can see how sorry you are. If you had been my daughter, I would have told Naheed and her parents about your sigheh before her wedding. They probably would have married off their daughter all the same, for what wealthy man does not have his concubines? But then they would not have blamed you, and perhaps you would have retained your friendship."

Deep in my heart, I knew she was right. "Homa, what should I do?" I asked.

She sighed. "What is there to be done now? Everyone will know the truth, so you might as well stay married."

"Why?"

"Because you no longer have your virginity. Before, you were poor, but at least you had that to offer. Now what do you have?"

She was right, of course. "What if Fereydoon doesn't renew?"

"Then you must be alone."

I was too young to imagine spending the rest of my days on my own, with no children by my side. That was even worse than what my mother had endured. "I don't want to be alone," I said bitterly.

Homa stroked my hand. "My child, do not fear. If your sigheh ends, you will have some advantages all the same."

"Advantages?"

Homa smiled. "If God is with you, and may He always be, then you will find a better man and marry again. If not, you can still contract your own sighehs. No one can tell you who to marry from now on."

I hadn't thought about that. "But Naheed told me her mother would have forbidden our friendship after my sigheh."

Homa closed her eyes for a moment and dipped her chin in agreement. "It is not the most honorable of situations. That's why most divorced women who contract sighehs do it in secret."

"Why do it at all?"

"For money, for pleasure, for children, or in the hope that a man may someday make you his real wife."

"But would people consider me low class?"

"They may."

No one I trusted had told me so plainly that my reputation had been blackened. My expression must have shown my distress, for Homa took my face in her hands.

"Azizam, you must never tell, but I did it once myself," she whispered.

"Why?"

"I fell in love with a boy when both of us were young, but our families married us to other people. After my husband died and my children were grown, my first love and I still wished to be united. Since he could barely feed his wife and eight children, we could not marry in the usual way."

"Did anyone know about it?"

"No, we thought it wise to keep it silent."

"Did he give you money?"

"Only if I needed it," she replied.

"How long did it last?"

"For ten years, until the day he died," she said. "I thank God for giving us the right to sigheh, for it was my only experience of love."

"Then why couldn't you tell anyone?"

"Many people from good families think it is indecent for women," she said. "After all, wouldn't you rather be a permanent wife and the queen of your household?"

"Of course," I said, "but I didn't have that choice."

"Often, we must live with imperfection," she said. "And when people worry about a stain on their floor, what do they do?"

Despite how I felt, I had to laugh, for I knew what she meant. "They throw a carpet over it," I replied.

"From Shiraz to Tabriz, from Baghdad to Herat, that is what Iranians do," she said.

I was quiet for a moment, for that was at the heart of it. I looked up at Homa, who took my hand and warmed it between hers.

"Homa, what shall I do?" I asked again. "What will happen to me?"

"Azizam, it is too soon to say," she replied. "For now, recognize that you have had bad luck, and that you have also made your mistakes, like Haroot and Maroot. Those two wanted something so badly that they succumbed to temptation and betrayed the Greatest Master of All. You wanted something, too, but have understood that it's not always possible to obtain your desires. And now you long to make amends. Make them in whatever way you can, and be like the date that grows sweeter and sweeter, even though the soil that nourishes it is rocky and harsh."

Before anyone else came into the hammam, Homa washed me and massaged me like a mother, combed my hair, wrapped me in a towel, and fed me strong poppy seeds to make me drowsy. I stretched out on a bedroll in a cubicle and fell into a deep sleep. The old story of Haroot and Maroot came to me in my dreams, along with the determination to be nothing like them.

First there wasn't and then there was. Before God, no one was.

Once there were two angels named Haroot and Maroot. One of their favorite pastimes, when their heavenly deeds were done, was to spy on humankind. Knowing that the earth was bountiful, they believed that living in accordance with God's laws should have been as easy as pulling fish from the waters of the Gulf. Yet everywhere they looked, they saw humans stealing, lying, cheating, fornicating, and killing. Look here: see the man in Constantinople plotting to force his neighbor's daughter into his foul embrace. Look there: see the woman in Baghdad concocting a poison to stir into her wealthy father's stew. Haroot and Maroot watched such conflicts unfold over months and years. Every time a human being had a fall, they made a sound together like the tinkling of bells.

One day God summoned Haroot and Maroot into His presence and announced that they were to be sent to earth on a special assignment. "You will assume the bodies of human beings," He said, "and you will show all the angels in heaven, and all of humankind besides, how to live just and honorable lives."

Haroot and Maroot's wing tips glowed with the honor. Within moments, they assumed human forms and materialized in the holy city of Mashhad, which was always full of pilgrims. Haroot had become a tall, handsome bearded fellow with empty pockets. Maroot was shorter and squatter, with a flat nose, but his purse jingled with gold abbasi coins.

They found themselves in the courtyard of the most holy site in all of Iran, the shrine of Imam Reza, which glittered with small mirrors cut like jewels. Sensing their spiritual natures, pilgrims formed a circle around them and asked questions. Since they were angels well versed in God's ways, their service came easily to them. Their thoughtful answers were like sweet rain from heaven, soothing and fruitful.

Toward nightfall, Maroot began to feel a stabbing pain in his middle. Not knowing what it was, he marveled at the strangeness of the sensation. Had God sent him to earth on a mission like that of Jesus? Would he, too, have to die? The thought of experiencing more pain in his body made him shiver and clutch his abdomen.

Noticing his distress, his friend Haroot stood up too quickly, saw black, and crashed to the earth. The devoted pilgrims lifted the two men and carried them into one of the mosque's shady arcades. "All day those two forgot to eat and drink," said one of the pilgrims. "It was as if they had already left their bodies behind and ascended into one of the spheres of heaven."

The sensible pilgrim had brought her own food. She scooped a morsel of roasted eggplant onto a triangle of bread and placed it gently in Maroot's mouth. His eyes fluttered and he began nibbling on her fingers. He tugged the remaining bread and eggplant from her hands, eating with a piggish abandon that surprised and disgusted her. When the pilgrim gave water to Haroot, he consumed it all with loud slurping sounds and demanded more. "What are these men?" she wondered.

At nightfall, most of the other pilgrims returned to their lodgings. As an act of charity, the woman determined to stay behind until the two men had regained their strength. Having eaten and drunk, Haroot and Maroot were feeling better. By the time the moon rose, they began to notice more about the woman who had ministered to them. Her face was white, and she had apples blooming on her cheeks. Her dark eyes were fringed with lashes as pretty as a doe's. Haroot longed to lift the cloth that covered her hair. Maroot wondered about the mystery of her belly, no doubt round and soft like freshly baked bread.

Seeing that the men had returned to health, the woman rose to return to her lodgings. "Wait, O merciful pilgrim," said Haroot in a pleading voice he didn't recognize as his own. "Please share your company with us for a few moments more. We need you."

They are like children, the woman thought, but she sat with them again, vowing to leave as soon as they regained their calm. Where could two such strange fellows have been raised? To make the time pass, she asked, "You are children of which town?"

Haroot and Maroot burst into laughter they couldn't control, gasping and snorting, she thought, like wild pigs. It was as if they had never laughed before. Maroot was on the ground with his face in the earth before his laughter finally subsided. He arose with his cheeks and nose streaked with dirt.

"If we told you, you'd never believe us," said Haroot, while Maroot gestured toward the heavens.

Perhaps they are from a religious order where men become so deeply spiritual they forget their earthly roots, the woman thought, but there was doubt in her eyes. "Originally, when your mothers gave birth to you, where did you live?"

Haroot and Maroot knew they were being treated with the patience shown to simpletons. A new sensation arose in each of them, as unfamiliar as all the others. Maroot's cheeks burned, and Haroot's back and jaw stiffened.

"We're from the greatest sphere," said Haroot, gesturing upwards again.

"And we can prove it," Maroot added.

The woman looked skeptical. "How can you prove it?"

"Earlier in the day, you listened with great attention to every word we uttered," said Haroot. "Didn't we seem different than other men?"

The woman reflected on how she had perceived them that morning. "Some hours ago, I might have believed you," she admitted. "You hardly seemed to inhabit your bodies."

Haroot and Maroot watched her lips linger over the word "bodies." Each was stricken with a desire to reach for her and stroke her warm belly and thighs. Perhaps, if they kept her near, she would be generous with them, the way pilgrims could sometimes be.

"Our bodies were new to us," confided Maroot.

The woman waved her hand as if to dismiss him. Once again, she rose to go.

"Wait!" said Maroot. "I have proof."

"You said that before."

"I can tell you something known by no other being on earth."

The woman waited quietly, looking unconvinced. Haroot put his hand to his heart, feeling regretful about what he knew they would do. To his surprise, he found a way to quash that feeling as quickly as it arose.

"The price of what we know is a kiss," said Maroot.

Haroot became angry because he thought his friend was trying to exclude him. "One for each of us," he said with a fiery glance.

The woman shifted her weight from foot to foot. "What is it that you know?" she asked.

"We know about God," said Maroot.

The woman had traveled many farsakhs on foot to reach Mashhad. Every day, she prayed five times and tried to open her heart to the divine. Could the message of the heavens be right in front of her, in the form of these two childlike men?

"Is it a bargain?" prompted Haroot.

"Perhaps," she said with a small smile.

Remorse had been growing again in Haroot's breast, but a glimpse of her small white teeth between her red lips helped vanquish those feelings.

"Sit beside us," he said, patting a blue tile, "and we will tell you the thing that only we know."