The Book of Fate (5 page)

‘That's awful!' I said. ‘Now she's going to be even more suspicious.'

‘Come on! She already knows something is going on, with that stupid Saiid putting the so-called prescription in a sealed envelope! Have you ever seen a pharmacist put a prescription in an envelope? And Maryam is no idiot. She was devouring the envelope with her eyes. That's why I got scared and ran off.'

For a few seconds, I lay there as still as a corpse. Everything was muddled in my head. But then I suddenly remembered the envelope and leaped up.

‘Give me the letter!' I said. ‘But first, check behind the door and make sure no one is there, then close it tight.'

My hands were shaking as I took the envelope from her. There was nothing written on it. I didn't have the nerve to open it. What could he have written? Other than mumbling a hello, we had never spoken to each other. Parvaneh was as excited as I was. Just then, Mother walked in. I quickly slipped the envelope under the quilt and we both sat up straight and looked at her in silence.

‘What's going on?' Mother asked, suspicious.

‘Nothing!' I stammered.

But Mother's gaze was full of doubt. Once again Parvaneh jumped to my rescue.

‘It's nothing,' she said. ‘Your daughter is very sensitive. She just blows everything out of proportion.' Then she turned to me and said, ‘So what if you didn't get a good grade in English. The hell with it. Your mother isn't like mine. She won't chide you for no good reason.' And looking at Mother, she said, ‘Isn't that right, Mrs Sadeghi? Are you going to scold her?'

Mother looked at Parvaneh with surprise, curled the corners of her lips, and said, ‘What can I say! So what if your grade isn't good. Actually, it would be better if you failed altogether. That way, you'll go back to the sewing classes, which are far more essential.' Then she put the tea tray in front of Parvaneh and walked out.

We looked at each other in silence for a few minutes and then burst out laughing. Parvaneh said, ‘Girl, why are you so dense? The way you acted, anyone would know you're up to no good. Be careful or we'll be found out.'

I felt nauseous with excitement and anxiety. I carefully opened the white envelope, trying not to damage it in any way. My heartbeats sounded like a sledgehammer pounding on an anvil.

‘Oh, come on!' Parvaneh said impatiently. ‘Hurry up!'

I unfolded the letter. Lines in beautiful penmanship danced before my eyes. I was dizzy. We quickly read the letter, which was no more than a few sentences. Then we looked at each other and in unison asked, ‘Did you read it? What did it say?' We read it again, this time more calmly. It started with this verse:

And then, greetings and inquiries about my health and wishes for a speedy recovery.

How polite, how beautiful. I could tell from his handwriting and composition that he was well read. Parvaneh didn't stay long because she hadn't told her mother she was coming to see me. I wasn't paying much attention to her anyway. I was in another world. I couldn't feel my physical presence. I was all spirit, flying in the air. I could even see myself lying there in bed with my eyes open, a big smile on my lips, pressing the letter to my chest. For the very first time, I regretted having often wished that I had died instead of Zari. How pleasant life was. I wanted to embrace the entire universe and kiss it.

The day passed in ecstasy and fantasy and I didn't notice the night go by. What did I eat for dinner? Who came over? What did we talk about? In the middle of the night, I turned on the light and read the letter over and over again. I held it to my chest and dreamed sweet dreams until morning. My instincts told me that this was an experience you have only once in your lifetime and only at the age of sixteen.

 

The next day, I was impatiently waiting for Parvaneh to come. I sat at the window, staring out at the front yard. Mother was going back and forth to the kitchen and she could see me. She gestured, ‘What do you want?'

I opened the window and said, ‘Nothing… I'm bored. I'm just looking out at the street.' A few minutes later I heard the doorbell. Grumbling, Mother opened the door. When she saw Parvaneh, she turned and gave me a meaningful look: so this is what you were waiting for.

Parvaneh ran up the stairs and tossed her schoolbag in the middle of the room while trying to use one foot to slip the shoe off her other foot.

‘Oh come in… what are you doing?'

‘Damn these lace-up shoes!'

Finally, she took her shoes off, came in and sat down. She said, ‘Let me read the letter again. I forgot some parts of it.'

I handed her the book in which I had hidden the letter and said, ‘Tell me about today… Did you see him?'

She laughed and said, ‘He saw me first. He was standing on the steps in front of the pharmacy and the way he was looking around, the entire city must have realised he was waiting for someone. When I reached him, he said hello without blushing. He asked, “How is she? Did you give her the letter?” I said, “Yes, she's well and says hello.” He sighed with relief and said he was worried you were upset with him. Then he fidgeted a little and said, “She didn't write back?” I told him I didn't know, that I had just handed the letter to you and left. Now what are you going to do? He's waiting for a reply.'

‘You mean I should write to him?' I asked nervously. ‘No, it's improper. If I do, he will probably think I'm a really cheeky girl.'

Just then, Mother walked in and said, ‘And you really are cheeky.'

My heart sank. I didn't know how much of our conversation she had overheard. I looked at Parvaneh. She, too, looked terrified. Mother put down the bowl of fruit she had brought for us and sat down.

‘It's good that you have finally realised you are cheeky,' she said.

Parvaneh quickly collected herself and said, ‘Oh no, this isn't being cheeky.'

‘What isn't being cheeky?'

‘You see, I told my mother that Massoumeh wants me to come visit her every day so that I can review the lessons with her. And Massoumeh was just saying that my mother will probably think she is really cheeky.'

Mother shook her head and looked at us warily. Then she slowly got up, walked out and closed the door behind her. I motioned to Parvaneh to keep quiet. I knew Mother was standing behind the door, eavesdropping. We started talking loudly about school and our classes and how far behind I was. And then Parvaneh started reading from our Arabic textbook. Mother really liked the Arabic language and assumed we were reading the Quran. A few minutes later, we heard her walk down the stairs.

‘OK, she's gone,' Parvaneh said quietly. ‘Be quick and decide what you want to do.'

‘I don't know!'

‘In the end, you either have to write to him or talk to him. You can't spend the rest of your lives signing and gesturing to each other. We have to at least find out what he has in mind. Is he thinking of marriage or not? Maybe he just wants to deceive us and lead us astray.'

It was interesting. Parvaneh and I were merging and now spoke in the plural.

‘I can't,' I said nervously. ‘I don't know what to write. You write.'

‘Me? I don't know how. You are a lot better than me in composition and you know a lot of poems.'

‘Write whatever comes to your mind. I'll do the same. Then we'll put them together and come up with a proper letter.'

Late that afternoon, I was jolted from my thoughts by Ahmad's shouts and hollers out in the yard. ‘I hear that vulgar girl is coming over here every day. What's the meaning of this? Didn't I tell you that I don't like her and her airs and pretensions? Why is she constantly here? What does she want?'

‘Nothing, my son,' Mother said. ‘Why are you making yourself so upset? She just comes to give Massoumeh her homework and she leaves quickly.'

‘The hell she does! If I see her here one more time, I'll throw her out with a kick in the ass.'

I wished I could get my hands on Ali and give him a good beating. The little twerp was spying on us and telling Ahmad. I told myself there was nothing Ahmad could do, but still I had to warn Parvaneh to be careful and to come over only when Ali wasn't at home.

I spent the entire day and night writing and crossing out. I had written things to him before, but always in my made-up script and it was all too emotional and familiar for a formal letter. The script was an invention rooted in need. First of all, there was no such thing as privacy and personal space in our house. I didn't even have a drawer all to myself. Second, I needed to write, I couldn't stop, I had to put on paper my feelings and dreams. It was the only way I could organise my thoughts and understand exactly what I wanted.

And yet, I didn't know what to write to Saiid. I didn't even know how to address him in the letter. Dear sir? No, it was too formal. Dear friend? No, it wasn't proper. Should I use his first name? No, that would be too familiar. By Thursday afternoon when Parvaneh came to see me after school, I still hadn't written a single word. She was more excited than ever before and when Faati opened the door for her, she didn't even pat her on the head. She darted up the stairs, threw her bag on the floor, sat right there at the door and started talking while trying to pull off her shoes.

‘I was walking back from school just now and he called me and said, “Miss Ahmadi, your father's medication is ready.” My poor father, who knows what disease he has that requires so much medicine. Thank God, that nosy Maryam wasn't with me. I went in and he gave me a package. Hurry up and open my bag. It's right there on top.'

My heart was beating out of my chest. I sat on the floor and quickly opened her bag. There was a small package wrapped in white paper. I tore it open. It was a pocket-size book of poetry with an envelope sticking out of it. I was drenched in sweat. I took the letter and leaned against the wall. I felt faint. Parvaneh, who had finally got rid of her shoes, crawled over to me and said, ‘Don't swoon now! Read it first, then pass out.'

Just then Faati walked in, clung to me and said, ‘Mother wants to know whether Miss Parvaneh would like some tea.'

‘No! No!' Parvaneh said. ‘Thank you so much. I have to leave soon.'

Then she pulled Faati away from me and kissed her on the cheeks. ‘Go now and thank your mother for me. That's a good girl.'

But Faati again came over and clung to me. I realised she had been told not leave us alone. Parvaneh took a piece of candy out of her pocket, gave it to Faati and said, ‘Be a good girl and go tell your mother I don't want any tea. Otherwise, she will climb up the stairs and it's bad for her. Her legs will start to ache.'

As soon as Faati left, Parvaneh snatched the letter from me and while saying, ‘Hurry up before someone else shows up,' she opened the envelope and started to read.

‘Respectable young lady.'

We looked at each other and burst into laughter. ‘Oh how funny!' Parvaneh exclaimed. ‘Who writes “respectable young lady”?'

‘Well, he probably didn't want to be too familiar in his first letters and call me “Miss”. To be honest, I have the same dilemma. I don't know how to start my letter.'

‘Forget that for now. Read the rest.'

Parvaneh and I, dizzy and intoxicated by the beauty of the letter, were deep in fantasy when Ali walked in. I quickly slipped the book and the letter under my legs. With a belligerent look and a bristly tone he said, ‘Mother wants to know if Miss Parvaneh is staying for lunch.'

‘Oh, no, thank you very much,' Parvaneh said. ‘I'm leaving.'

‘Very well,' Ali grumbled. ‘But we want to eat now.' And he walked out.

I was angry and embarrassed and didn't know what to say to Parvaneh. She had noticed my family's cold attitude towards her and said, ‘I've been coming over too often. I think they've had enough of me. When are you coming back to school? You've been in bed for ten days. Isn't that enough?'

‘I'm going crazy. I'm tired and bored. I'll probably come back on Saturday.'

‘Can you? Is it all right?'

‘I'm feeling much better. I will exercise my ankle until Saturday.'

‘Then we'll be free. I swear I can't look your mother in the eyes any more. I'll pick you up at exactly seven-thirty on Saturday morning.'

She kissed me on the cheeks and ran down the stairs without bothering to tie her shoelaces. Out in the front yard, I heard her say to Mother, ‘I'm so sorry, but I had to come today. You see, we have a test on Saturday and I had to let Massoumeh know so that she can prepare for it. Thank God, it seems her ankle is much better. I'll pick her up on Saturday and we'll slowly walk to school.'

‘That won't be necessary,' Mother said. ‘Her ankle hasn't healed yet.'

‘But we have a test!' Parvaneh insisted.

‘So you do. It's not all that important. And Ali tells me there's still a month left until school exams start.'