The Book of Fate (51 page)

That night we sat and talked into the early hours of the morning. Siamak and Lili argued about the value of getting to know each other before marrying and the worthlessness of a piece of paper, and we argued about the value of a properly-structured family, the necessity for an official marriage and respect for the ties of kinship. Finally, we came to the conclusion that, for our sake, the children should go through with the ‘irrelevant and idiotic' process of marriage and if ever they felt they no longer suited each other they could void that piece of paper and get a divorce. We also decided that they should get married while I was there and as soon as they had set up their home and were ready to start their life together.

‘I am truly grateful!' Khosrow said. ‘You can't imagine what a weight you have lifted from my shoulders.'

‘It really is a strange world,' I replied. ‘I still cannot digest any of this.'

 

The beauty and sweetness of my trip was made complete with Lili and Siamak's wedding. I was delighted to have a daughter-in-law who was kind, intelligent, charming and Parvaneh's daughter. I was enjoying myself so much that I didn't want to go back home.

The wonderful memories of that time will stay with me for ever. My best souvenirs were all the photographs that later adorned the walls, shelves and tables in my home.

 

The good years pass quickly. In the blink of an eye, Shirin was in the last year of school and Massoud was finishing his last term at the university. He was terribly busy preparing his final project and thesis, and his responsibilities at work had increased. But his recent silence had nothing to do with any of this. There was something weighing on his mind and I could tell he wanted to talk to me but was hesitating. I was surprised; we had always been open and comfortable with each other. Still, I let him wrestle with his doubts. Finally one night when Shirin had gone to a friend's birthday party he came and sat next to me and said, ‘Mum, would you be very upset if I decide to leave you and Shirin and live in a separate house?'

My heart sank. What had happened for him to want to leave us? Trying to remain calm, I said, ‘Every child will one day leave his parents, but it all depends on the reason why.'

‘For example, marriage.'

‘Marriage? You want to get married?' I asked, surprised. ‘Oh my dear, that is wonderful! It is my dream.'

The truth was that I had thought a lot about Massoud getting married. For years I had dreamed of the day he would marry Firouzeh. They had liked each other and had been close ever since they were children.

‘Thank God,' Massoud said. ‘I was afraid you wouldn't approve.'

‘Why wouldn't I? Congratulations! Now tell me, when should we have the wedding ceremony?'

‘Slow down, Mum! First I have to ask for her hand and see if she will agree to become my wife.'

‘Nonsense!' I exclaimed. ‘Of course, she will agree. Who better than you? They have loved you ever since you were a little boy. And on several occasions they even made veiled comments about why you were not stepping forward. Poor Firouzeh was worse than all of them. She never managed to hide her secret from me. It is always there in her eyes. Oh that dear girl! She will make a beautiful bride.'

Massoud stared at me and said, ‘Firouzeh? What are you talking about? Firouzeh is like a sister to me, like Shirin.'

I was shocked. How could I have been so wrong? That close relationship, those meaningful looks, those long hours of sharing confidences: were they all rooted in fraternal affection? I cursed myself for having spoken so rashly.

‘Then, who is she?' I asked, trying hard to regain my composure. But still, there was a coldness rippling in my voice.

‘Mina's cousin, Ladan,' Massoud said. ‘She is twenty-four; she is beautiful. She is from a well-respected family. Her father has retired from the Ministry of Transportation.'

‘Of course I know who they are. How long has this been going on, you rascal? How come you never peeped a word?'

I started to laugh. I wanted to make up for my initial coldness. Just like a child, my laughter cheered him up and he started to talk.

‘I met her three months ago and it has only been a month since we expressed our feelings for each other.'

‘You have known her for only three months and you have already decided to marry her? It must be a high fever!'

‘Mum, why would you say such a thing? Some men ask for a girl's hand in marriage without having even seen her.'

‘Yes. But, my son, we have two kinds of marriage. One is based on logic and particular conditions, and the other one is based on love. A traditional marriage, when someone makes introductions and there is a formal request for a girl's hand, is the first kind. In that case, the circumstances of both sides are looked into, both families articulate their expectations, the elders weigh the conditions, compromises are made, and only when they are certain that there is potential, they involve the young couple and they see each other a few times. If they like each other, they will get married with the hope that they will grow to love one another.

‘But in a marriage based on love, two people develop deep feelings for each other and don't pay much attention to anything else. Because of their love, they turn a blind eye to things that may be missing in their relationship and they adjust. If they face objections, they accept the responsibility and stand up to others, and regardless of any logical and rational arguments, they get married. It seems your plan fits this second model. In which case, the couple should get to know each other very well and make certain that their love is strong and enduring enough to make up for any lack of compatibility and withstand the disapproval of others. Now, don't you think three months is not enough time to develop such a deep bond and to achieve true love?'

‘I'm sorry, Mum, but you are philosophising again,' Massoud said impatiently. ‘I want my marriage to be a mix of the two kinds you described. Why can't we be in love and have the right conditions, too? I think the problem is that you don't know anything about love. According to you, even two or three days after your wedding, you still hadn't had a chance to take a good look at your husband. Therefore, I don't think you can be a fair judge of love. Ladan says, “Love is like an apple that falls in your lap. It happens in a split second.” See how beautiful her interpretation of love is? She is so sensitive and stunning. You must meet her.'

My heart ached. I wanted to tell him there was a time when I would have given my life for the one I loved. But I checked myself and instead said, ‘What do I know about love? What do you know about me? As Forough wrote, “All my wounds are from love.”'

‘But you never said anything.'

‘And I haven't said anything now. Just know that you are not the only one here who is familiar with love.'

‘Well, what are you suggesting we do?'

‘I am not suggesting you do anything. You have to give yourselves time, test your love and let it temper.'

‘We don't have time,' Massoud argued. ‘She has a suitor. They have asked for her hand and her parents might marry her off any day. We will lose each other for ever!'

‘This itself is a test,' I said. ‘If she really loves you, she will not be goaded into marriage.'

‘You don't know her circumstances; her family is pressuring her. You of all people should understand.'

‘My son, she is an educated and intelligent girl, and from what you have told me, her parents are sensible people. They are very different from your grandparents thirty years ago. If she tells them she does not want to get married straight away, they will understand and they will not force her into it. Things are very different now.'

‘What is different?' Massoud argued. ‘Our culture is still the same culture. Families still think a girl's only objective in life is to get married and they can force her into it. In fact, her parents wanted to marry her off when she was eighteen, but she resisted.'

‘Then she can resist again for one more year,' I said patiently.

‘Mum! Why are you taking sides? Why don't you just say you don't want me to marry her?'

‘I won't say that. I haven't even met this girl. She may be a wonderful person. All I am saying is wait.'

‘We don't have time to wait!'

‘Fine,' I said, irately. ‘Then would you please tell me what it is I am supposed to do?'

He jumped up and put a piece of paper in front of me.

‘This is their telephone number. Call them right away and arrange to go there the day after tomorrow.'

I was confused. On the one hand, I scolded myself not to do as he asked. On the other hand, I wondered if I was taking sides against a girl I had never met. I remembered how Mother had dragged her heels and delayed everything when Mahmoud said he wanted to marry Mahboubeh. Besides, this was the first time my son had so passionately asked me for something. I shouldn't say no. And still, the image of Firouzeh, Faati and Sadegh Khan's disappointed faces would not fade away from my mind. What a blow this would be to them!

‘Are you sure you don't want to think about this a little longer?' I asked.

‘No, Mum, her father said if there is someone else, he should step forward by the end of the week, otherwise Ladan will marry the suitor they have selected for her.'

I had no choice. I picked up the telephone and called. They immediately knew who I was. Obviously, they had been waiting for my call.

Massoud was happy. It was as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He kept hovering over me.

‘Come on, let's go buy pastries for tomorrow,' he said. ‘It's getting late!'

I wasn't in the mood and I hadn't finished my work, but I thought if I said no, he would interpret it as another sign of my disapproval. I didn't want to take his happiness away from him. In the car, he talked non-stop, but all I could think about was Firouzeh and Faati. Wasn't it Firouzeh's presence that had brought him back to life and reawakened his interest in his education? Then, what had happened? I who claim to know my son so well, was I so terribly wrong?

 

With her usual perceptiveness and mischief, Shirin quickly picked up on Massoud's unusual mood.

‘What is going on?' she asked. ‘The gentleman is jumping with joy!'

‘Nothing is going on,' I said. ‘Tell me about the birthday party. Did you have fun?'

‘It was excellent. We played plenty of music and danced. By the way, I have to invite everyone over. I must have a birthday party. I have gone to everyone's house, but I have never thrown a party. How about next month?'

‘But your birthday is in the summer!' I said.

‘It doesn't matter. I just need an excuse. Nothing ever happens here anyway, I might as well invite my friends.'

‘Perhaps something will happen and you will be able to invite your friends to a wedding,' I said.

With her eyes wide, Shirin turned and stared at Massoud. ‘A wedding? Whose wedding?'

‘My wedding,' Massoud said. ‘Your brother's wedding. Would you like it if I got married?'

‘You? Get married? No, to be honest, I wouldn't like it,' Shirin said bluntly. ‘But I guess it depends on who she is.'

‘We don't know her,' I said. ‘They met and took a liking to each other.'

‘Don't tell me it's that cheeky girl who calls here all the time,' Shirin snapped. ‘It's her, isn't it? I knew something was going on. Mum, you know, she's the pest who calls and hangs up.'

Massoud blushed and retorted, ‘What do you mean by “pest”? She is shy. When she calls and someone else answers the telephone, she gets embarrassed and hangs up.'

‘Shy?' Shirin scoffed. ‘Sometimes she does talk. She shamelessly asks, “Is Massoud Khan home?” And when I ask for her name she coyly says she will call back later. She sounds so conceited!'

‘That's enough!' Massoud chided. And then he turned to me and said, ‘By the way, we should order flowers for tomorrow. And remember to wear something elegant…'

I looked at him with surprise and said, ‘You sound like you have done this a hundred times! You know the routine very well.'

‘Not really,' he said. ‘Ladan told me what we need to do to please her parents.'

‘I'm coming, too!' Shirin announced.

‘No,' I said. ‘You can come the next time we go to see them.'

‘Why? I have to see her. I am the sister-in-law and I have to approve of her!'

‘Not when the sister-in-law is still a kid,' Massoud replied.

‘I am not a kid! I am eighteen years old. Mum, would you please say something?'

‘Massoud,' I said, ‘what is wrong with her coming along? Usually, it's the suitor's mother and sister who go to ask for the girl's hand. And stop calling her a kid. I was already a mother when I was her age.'

‘No, Mum, not now, it's not prudent. She can come next time.'

Shirin sulked and cried but none of it made Massoud change his mind. Apparently, he had received orders from above and non-compliance was not an option.

 

The basket of flowers was so large that it wouldn't fit in the car. We finally managed to put it in the boot, but we had to leave the door open.

‘Did you have to buy such a huge basket of flowers?' I asked.

‘Ladan said, “You have to bring as large a bouquet as possible so that it will stand out among the ones others have brought.”'

‘What a stupid thing to say!'

Their house was old and sprawling. The rooms were all furnished with antiques and there was one of every china vase I had ever seen in stores or elsewhere. The sofas and chairs were in the classical style, with high legs, gold-leafed armrests, and red, yellow and orange upholstery. There were replicas of old paintings in heavy, ornate gold-coloured frames and red curtains with tassels and gold-coloured lining… The house looked more like a hotel or a restaurant than a cosy and comfortable home.