The Book of Fate (12 page)

‘My aunt said, “Mrs Aghdass, please stop it. It's not right. They didn't say anything insulting. He is the older brother. If he said something out of kindness and concern, you shouldn't take offence.”

‘“So what if he is older! It doesn't give him the right to say whatever he wants. And my husband is his brother, not his lackey. What business do they have meddling in our lives? That pop-eyed wife of his can't stand to see anyone better than herself. We don't want relatives like them.”

‘Then she grabbed one of her children by the arm and stormed out. My uncle's wife screamed after her, “Go take a good look at yourself! If you were a decent woman your first husband wouldn't have thrown you out with two kids.”

‘My sweet fantasy didn't even last an hour. Like a bubble, it burst and disappeared. My stepmother was determined. She said she would make sure my uncle's family would always bear the grief of my loss in their hearts. She told my father she was already a mother by the time she was my age and that she could no longer tolerate a rival like me in her house. Around that time, Haji Agha came and asked for my hand. He was a distant relative of my stepmother and had already been married twice. He said, “I divorced them because they couldn't get pregnant.” Now, he wanted to marry a young, healthy girl to make sure he would have children. The idiot! He wasn't willing to consider for even a second that he was the one who had a problem. Of course, men never have any problems or shortcomings; especially not rich men. He was forty years old and twenty-five years my senior. My father said, “He has a world of money, several shops in the bazaar, and plenty of land and property around Ghazvin.” In short, my father's mouth was watering. Haji Agha said, “If she bears my child, I will give her a sea of money.” When they took me to the marriage ceremony, I was feeling worse than you do now.'

Mrs Parvin stared at some distant point and two teardrops fell on her cheeks.

‘Why didn't you kill yourself?' I asked.

‘Do you think it's easy? I didn't have the courage. And you should get these silly thoughts out of your head. We each have a destiny and you can't fight yours. Besides, committing suicide is a great sin. You never know, perhaps this will turn out to be a blessing for you.'

Mother pounded on the door and yelled, ‘Mrs Parvin! What are you doing in there? We're going to be late. It's already nine-thirty.'

Mrs Parvin dried her tears and answered, ‘Don't worry. We will be ready on time.' Then she came and sat next to me and said, ‘I told you all this so that you don't think I don't understand what you are going through.'

‘Then why do you want to make me miserable and unhappy, too?'

‘They are going to marry you off anyway. You have no idea what Ahmad has planned for you.' And then she asked, ‘By the way, why does he hate you so much?'

‘Because Father loves me more than he loves Ahmad.'

Suddenly, I grasped the reality behind the words I had impulsively blurted out. I had never understood it that clearly. Yes, Father loved me more.

The first memory I had of his kindness was on the day Zari died. He came home from work and stood frozen in the doorway. Mother was wailing and Grandmother was reading from the Quran. The doctor was shaking his head and walking out with a look of hatred and disgust on his face. When he came face to face with Father, he roared, ‘This child has been on the verge of death for at least three days and you waited until now to call a doctor? Would you have done the same if it was one of your sons lying there instead of this innocent girl?'

Father's face was as white as plaster. He was about to collapse. I ran over to him and wrapped my tiny arms around his legs and called Grandmother. He sat down on the floor, held me tight, pressed his face in my hair and sobbed. Grandmother said, ‘Get up, son. You're a man. You shouldn't cry like a woman. What God gave, God has taken away. You shouldn't challenge his will.'

‘You said it was nothing serious,' Father yelled. ‘You said she would get well soon. You didn't let me bring a doctor.'

‘It would have made no difference. If she was meant to live, she would have lived. Even the greatest sage and physician would not have made a difference. This is our fate. We are not meant to have girls.'

‘This is all nonsense,' Father cried. ‘It's all your fault!'

It was the first time I saw Father shout at his mother. In truth, I liked it. After that day, Father would often hold me in his arms and silently cry. I knew from the way his shoulders would start to shake. And from then on, he showered me with the love and attention he had denied Zari. Ahmad never forgot nor forgave this favouritism. His angry looks always followed me and as soon as Father went out he would beat me up. Now, Ahmad had reached his heart's desire. I had lost favour in Father's eyes, I had broken his trust, and Father, disappointed and heartbroken, had abandoned me. It was the best opportunity for Ahmad to take his revenge.

Mrs Parvin's voice brought me back. ‘You have no idea what he was going to do to you. You don't know what a vile and disgusting man he is. And don't think anyone would have come to your rescue. You won't believe the performance I had to put on to finally convince him to say no to that louse and to let this suitor's family come and see you. My heart was breaking for you. You are just like me fifteen or twenty years ago. I saw how your family just wanted to marry you off and there was no sign of that incompetent Saiid. I thought you should at least marry someone who won't turn you black and blue with his fists the day after the wedding. Someone who is decent and, God willing, you may grow to like. And even if you don't, he should be someone who will let you live your own life.'

‘Just like you?' I said in a stinging and bitter tone.

She looked at me with reproach. ‘I don't know. Do as you wish. We all find a way to take revenge on life and to make our existence tolerable.'

 

I didn't go with them to shop for a ring. Mrs Parvin told the groom's family that I had a cold and she took the silver ring I was wearing so that she would know what size the wedding ring should be.

Two days later, Father, Ahmad and Mahmoud went to Qum and came back with a carload of household furnishings. Mother said, ‘Wait. Wait. Don't bring these things in here. Take them straight to her own house. Mrs Parvin will go with you and show you the way.' Then she turned to me and said, ‘Come, girl. Get up and go take a look at your home and see what you're missing and tell them where you want them to put everything. Come on, be a good girl and get up.'

‘There's no need,' I said with a shrug. ‘Tell Mrs Parvin to go. I have no intention of getting married. It seems she's the one who is all excited.'

The next day, Mrs Parvin brought the wedding dress for a fitting. I refused to try it on. ‘That's all right,' she said. ‘I have your measurements. I'll make it based on your other dresses. I'm sure it will turn out fine.'

I didn't know what to do. I was constantly restless and agitated. I couldn't eat. I couldn't sleep. And even when I did fall asleep for a few hours, I had so many nightmares that by the time I woke up I was more tired than before. I was like someone sentenced to death and approaching the hour of her execution. Finally, as difficult as it was, I decided to talk to Father. I wanted to throw myself at his feet and weep until he took pity on me. But everyone was careful to not leave us alone together for even a minute. And it was obvious that Father, too, was doing everything he could to avoid me. Subconsciously, I was expecting a miracle. I thought a hand would appear out of the sky and steal me away at the last moment. But nothing happened.

Everything progressed on schedule and the promised day arrived. From early in the morning the front door was open and Mahmoud, Ahmad and Ali were coming and going. They arranged a row of chairs around the front yard and prepared platters of pastries. Of course, they were expecting very few guests. Mother had asked that no one in Qum be told about the wedding. She didn't want any of our relatives to show up and see the sorry state of affairs. They told Father's sister that the wedding was going to be a few weeks later, but they had to invite Uncle Abbas. In fact, he was our only relative present at the ceremony. With the exception of a few of our neighbours, the guests were all related to the groom.

Everyone kept insisting that I go to the beauty parlour, but I refused. Mrs Parvin faked this, too. She threaded my face, plucked my eyebrows and put curlers in my hair. All the while, tears were streaming down my face. Uncle Abbas's wife had come over in the morning to help, or, according to Mother, to spy. ‘Oh you're such a sensitive sissy?' she said. ‘There is hardly any hair on your face for you to cry like this.'

‘My child has become so weak that she can't bear it,' Mother said.

Mrs Parvin had tears in her eyes, too. Every so often, she pretended she needed a new piece of thread and she turned away to wipe her eyes.

The marriage ceremony was to be held at five o'clock when the weather had cooled off a little. At four, the groom's family arrived. Although it was still very hot, the men stayed outside and sat in the shade of the tall mulberry tree. The women went upstairs to the living room where the wedding
sofreh
had been laid out. I was in the room next door.

Mother burst into the room and scolded, ‘You're still not dressed? Hurry up. The gentleman will be here in an hour!'

I was shaking from head to toe. I threw myself at her feet and begged her not to force me to go through with the marriage. ‘I don't want a husband,' I pleaded. ‘I don't even know who this lout is. For the love of God, don't make me. I swear on the Quran, I will kill myself. Go and break this up. Let me talk to my father. Wait and see, I will not say yes. Just watch me! Either you put an end to this, or I will say in front of everyone that I do not consent to getting married.'

‘May God take my life!' she gasped. ‘Be quiet! What sort of talk is this? Now you want to shame us in front of all these people? This time, your brother will cut you into tiny pieces. Ahmad has been carrying his knife in his pocket all day. He said, “If she says one word out of line, I will finish her off right here.” Think about your poor father's reputation. He will have a heart attack and drop dead.'

‘I don't want to get married and you can't force me.'

‘Shut your trap and don't raise your voice. People will hear.'

She came at me, but I dove under the bed and huddled in the farthest corner. The curlers had all come loose and scattered around the room.

‘May you meet your death!' Mother hissed. ‘Come out of there! May God let me see you on a slab at the morgue. Come out!'

Someone was knocking on the door. It was Father. ‘Missus, what are you doing?' he asked. ‘The gentleman will be here any minute.'

‘Nothing, nothing,' Mother said. ‘She's getting dressed. Just tell Mrs Parvin to come here quick.'

And then she snarled, ‘Come out, you miserable wretch. Come out before I kill you. Stop creating so much scandal.'

‘I won't. I won't get married. For the love of brother Mahmoud, for the love of Ahmad whom you love so much, don't force me to get married. Tell them we have changed our minds.'

Mother couldn't crawl under the bed. She clawed at me, grabbed me by the hair and dragged me out. Just then, Mrs Parvin walked in.

‘May God have mercy! What are you doing? You are tearing out all her hair!'

Mother wheezed, ‘See what she's doing? She wants to put us to shame at the last minute.'

Still curled up on the floor, I glared at her with hatred. She still had a cluster of my hair in her fist.

 

I don't remember saying yes during the marriage ceremony. Mother kept squeezing my arm with all her might and whispering, ‘Say yes. Say yes.' Finally, someone said yes and everyone cheered. Mahmoud and a few of the men were sitting in the next room and they chanted praise to the Prophet and his descendants. A few things were exchanged, but I was oblivious to it all. There was a veil across my eyes. Everything was floating in a fog, a haze. People's voices blended into a confusing and incomprehensible clamour. Like someone transfixed, I sat staring at a distant point. I didn't care that the man sitting next to me was now my husband. Who was he? What did he look like? Everything was over. And Saiid didn't come. My hopes and dreams had reached a bitter end. Saiid, what did you do to me?

 

When I came to, I was in that man's house, in the bedroom. He was sitting on the edge of the bed with his back to me, taking off his tie. It was obvious that he was not used to wearing one and it had bothered him. I stood in a corner and gripped the white chador they had made me wear to come to that house, tight against my chest. I was trembling like an autumn leaf. My heart was pounding. I was trying not to make a sound so that he wouldn't notice my presence in the room. In total silence, tears were falling on my chest. God, what sort of tradition was this? One day they wanted to kill me because I had exchanged a few words with a man I had known for two years, knew a lot about, loved and was ready to go to the ends of the earth with, and the next day they wanted me to climb into bed with a stranger whom I knew nothing about and for whom I felt nothing but fear.

The thought of his hand touching me made my skin crawl. I felt I was in danger of being raped and there was no one to save me. The room was half dark. As if my stare had burned the back of his neck, he turned and looked at me, and sounding surprised, he quietly said, ‘What's the matter? What are you afraid of…? Of me?' Then he smiled sarcastically and said, ‘Please don't look at me like that. You look like a lamb gaping at its slaughterer.'

I wanted to say something, but I couldn't speak.

‘Calm down,' he said. ‘Don't be afraid. You're about to have a heart attack. I won't touch you. I'm not an animal!'