The Book of Fate (8 page)

And he let out a hideous laugh.

‘No! No!' I screamed. I threw myself at his feet, wrapped my arms around his legs and begged, ‘For the love of God, swear on Mother's life that you won't hurt him.'

Dragging me along, he headed towards the door.

‘I beg you, please don't. I did wrong. I repent…'

Ahmad was looking at me with savage pleasure. When he reached the front door, he hissed a crude vulgarity, yanked his leg and freed himself from my grip. Ali who had followed us kicked me hard and hurled me down the front door steps.

As he walked out, Ahmad yelled, ‘I'll bring you his liver.' And he slammed the door shut behind him.

My ribs had broken. I couldn't breathe. But the real pain was in my heart. I was scared to death of how Ahmad was going to confront Saiid and what he would do to him. I was sitting on the ice and snow next to the reflecting pool and weeping. I was trembling from head to toe, but I couldn't feel the cold. Mother told Mahmoud to bring me into the house and avoid even greater disgrace. But Mahmoud didn't want to touch me. In his eyes, I was now tainted and unclean. In the end, he grabbed me by my clothes and with astonishing rage yanked me away from the pool, dragged me into the house and threw me into the room. My head hit the edge of the door and I felt the warmth of blood on my face.

Mother said, ‘Mahmoud, go after Ahmad and make sure he doesn't get himself into trouble.'

‘Don't worry, that guy deserves whatever Ahmad does to him. As a matter of fact, we should kill this one, too.'

Still, he went out and quiet was restored in the house. Mother was mumbling to herself and crying. I couldn't stop sobbing. Faati was standing in a corner, biting her nails and staring at me. I was in a strange state of stupor and had no notion of the passage of time. At some point, the sound of the front door brought me back to my senses and I leaped up in fright. Cackling vulgarly, Ahmad walked in and held the bloody knife in front of my eyes. ‘Here, look at it carefully. It's your lover's blood.'

The room started spinning around me, Ahmad's face became distorted, and a black curtain came down over my eyes. I was falling down a deep well. The sounds around me turned into a vague, protracted cacophony. I plunged deeper and deeper with no hope of stopping.

 

Zari was dying. Her face had a strange colour. She was breathing with difficulty, rasping. Her chest and stomach were heaving rapidly. I was biting my nails and watching her from behind the pile of bedding. The sound of voices coming from the front yard intensified my horror.

‘Agha Mostafa, I swear she's in a bad way. Go bring a doctor.'

‘Enough! Enough! Don't get hysterical. You're upsetting my son. Nothing is going to happen to her. I'm waiting for the decoction to brew. If I give it to her now, she'll be well by the time you come back. Go, don't just stand there… go, my dear. Rest assured, the girl won't die.'

Zari was holding my hand. We were running through a dark tunnel. Ahmad was chasing us. He had a knife. With every step he took, he came a few metres closer. It was as if he was flying. We were screaming, but it was Ahmad's laughter and voice that echoed in the tunnel.

‘Blood. Blood. Look, it's blood.'

Grandmother was trying to make Zari drink the decoction. Mother was holding her head on her lap and squeezing the sides of her mouth with her fingers. Zari was weak and not struggling at all. Grandmother spooned the liquid into her mouth, but it wouldn't go down her throat. Mother blew on her face. Zari stopped breathing, moved her arms and legs, and then breathed again with a strange sound.

Mother cried, ‘Mrs Azra said we have to take her to the doctor near the shrine.'

‘The hell she did!' Grandmother said. ‘Get up and go cook dinner. Your husband and sons will be home any minute.'

Grandmother was hovering over Zari and reciting prayers. Zari's face had turned dark and odd sounds were coming from her throat. Then Grandmother suddenly ran into the yard and screamed, ‘Tayebeh, Tayebeh, run and fetch the doctor!'

I took Zari's hand and stroked her hair. Her face was almost black. She opened her eyes. They looked so large and scary. The whites were filled with blood. She squeezed my hand. Then she raised her head from the pillow and it fell back down. I pulled my hand out of hers and ran and hid behind the stack of quilts and pillows. Her arms and legs were moving. I covered my ears with my hands and pressed my face into a pillow.

Out in the yard, Grandmother was twirling the charcoal starter in the air. It kept getting larger and larger until it was as big as the yard. Grandmother's voice resonated in my ears: ‘Girls don't die. Girls don't die.'

Zari was sleeping. I stroked her hair and brushed it away from her face, but it was Saiid. His head rolled off the pillow and fell on the floor. I screamed, but no sound came from my throat.

 

There was no end to my nightmares. Every so often I would wake up to the sound of my own screams, and, drenched in sweat, I would again plunge down the well. I don't know how long I was in that state.

One day I woke up with a burning sensation in my foot. It was morning. The room was filled with the smell of alcohol. Someone turned my face and said, ‘She's awake. Missus, look. I swear she's awake. She's looking at me.'

The faces were blurry, but the voices were clear.

‘O Imam Moussa bin-Jafar, you who fulfil people's needs, save us!'

‘Missus, she's come to. Make a broth and pour it down her throat any way you can. It's almost a week since she ate anything. Her stomach is weak. You have to feed her slowly.'

I closed my eyes. I didn't want to see anyone.

‘The chicken broth will be ready in a minute. Thank God a hundred thousand times. All this time, she has vomited everything I made her eat.'

‘Yesterday when her fever broke I knew she was going to wake up. The poor thing, how she has suffered. Who knows how all this fever and delirium got into her body.'

‘Oh, Mrs Parvin, do you see my agony? In the past few days I have died and come back to life a hundred times. On the one hand, I have to watch my dear child flail and flutter before my eyes, and on the other hand, I have to bear the shame and tolerate her brothers' taunts about the sort of girl I gave birth to. It all burns me up inside.'

I was not in pain. I was just lying in bed, weak and frail. I couldn't move. Simply pulling my hand out from under the blanket felt like a herculean task. I wished I would continue getting weaker and weaker until I died. Why had I woken up? There was nothing for me in this world.

 

When I again regained consciousness, Mother had laid my head on her knee and was trying to force me to drink some broth. I was shaking my head and resisting the pressure of her fingers squeezing my cheeks.

‘May God let me sacrifice my life for you, just one spoonful… Look what a state you're in. Eat. May all your pain and suffering be mine.'

It was the first time she had spoken such words to me. She had never fawned over me. She was always either busy with my younger siblings or watching over my older brothers whom she loved more than life itself. I was always lost in the middle. I was neither the first nor the last, and not a boy either. If Zari hadn't died, I would surely have been completely forgotten by now; just like Faati, who was usually hiding in a corner and no one ever saw her. I will never forget the day Mother gave birth to her. Grandmother fainted when she heard the child was a girl. But later, Faati came to have another problem as well. They said she was a bad omen, because after she was born, Mother miscarried twice and both times the child was a boy. I really don't know how Mother knew they were boys.

The broth spilled on the sheet. Mother grumbled and walked out of the room.

 

I opened my eyes. It was late afternoon. Faati was sitting next to me, brushing my hair away from my face with her small hands. She looked so innocent and alone. I looked at her. She was me sitting next to Zari. I felt the warmth of tears on my face.

‘I knew you would wake up,' Faati said. ‘For the love of God, don't die.'

Mother was walking back into the room. I closed my eyes.

It was night-time. I could hear everyone talking. Mother said, ‘This morning she opened her eyes. She was conscious, but no matter how hard I tried to pour a little broth in her mouth, she wouldn't let me. She's so weak she can't move; I don't know where she gets all that energy to fight me. This morning Mrs Parvin was saying we can't keep her going on pills and medicine any longer. If she doesn't eat, she'll die.'

I heard Father say, ‘I knew my mother was right. We can't have girls. Even if she recovers, she'll be as good as dead… with all this shame and dishonour.'

I didn't hear any more. It seemed as though I could control when and what I wanted to see and hear, and just like a radio with an on-off switch, I could turn everything off. But I couldn't control the nightmares. Images danced behind my closed eyelids.

 

Ahmad, holding a bloody knife and dragging Faati along by her hair, was running towards me. Faati was as small as a doll. I was standing at the edge of a cliff. Ahmad hurled Faati towards me. I tried to catch her, but she slipped through my hands and plunged down the cliff. I looked down. Zari and Saiid's mangled and bloody bodies were down there. My own scream woke me up. My pillow was soaking wet and my mouth felt horribly dry.

‘What is the matter? You're not going to let us get a decent night's sleep, are you?'

I was gulping down the water.

 

I woke up to the sound of the usual morning commotion. They were eating breakfast.

‘Last night her fever peaked again. She was hallucinating. Did you hear her scream?'

‘No!' Mahmoud said.

‘Mother, will you let us eat a lousy bite in peace or not?' Ahmad groused.

His voice was like a dagger piercing my heart. I wished I had the energy to get up and tear him to pieces. I hated him. I hated all of them. I rolled over and pushed my face into the pillow. I wished I might die soon and be free of those selfish, stone-hearted people.

 

My eyes automatically opened with the sting of the syringe.

‘Well, you're finally awake. Don't pretend you're not. Shall I bring a mirror for you to see yourself? You look like a skeleton. Look. I went to the Caravan pastry shop and bought biscuits for you. They're really tasty with tea… Mrs Sadeghi!… Massoumeh is awake. She wants some tea. Bring her a tall glass of tea.'

I looked at her with dazed eyes. I couldn't figure her out. Everyone talked behind her back and said that unbeknownst to her husband she has relations with men. I thought of her as a filthy woman. But for some reason, when I saw her I didn't hate her the way I thought I should. I saw no ugliness in her. I just knew that I didn't want to have any contact with her.

Mother walked in with a tall glass of tea filled to the rim.

‘Thank God,' she said. ‘She wants to drink some tea?'

‘Yes,' Mrs Parvin said. ‘She's going to have some tea with biscuits. Get up my girl… get up.'

She slid her hand under me and raised me up. Mother put a few pillows behind me and held the glass up to my mouth. I turned away and clenched my lips, as if I had stored all my energy to do just that.

‘It's not going to work. She won't let me. It's all going to spill.'

‘Don't trouble yourself. I will give it to her, I'll sit here and I won't leave until she drinks it. Go take care of your chores. Don't worry.'

Mother, looking cranky and irritated, left the room.

‘Now, my good girl, just so that I don't lose face, open your mouth and take just one sip. For the love of God, isn't it a shame for that delicate skin to have turned so sallow. You are so thin that you probably weigh as much as Faati. A girl as pretty as you should live, and you won't if you don't eat…'

I don't know what Mrs Parvin saw in my eyes or read in the smirk on my lips, but she suddenly grew quiet and stared at me. And then like someone who has made a great discovery, she said, ‘Yes! That is exactly what you want… you want to die. This is your way of committing suicide. I am such an idiot! Why didn't I see it sooner? Yes, you want to die. But why? Aren't you in love? Who knows, you may end up with him after all. Why do you want to kill yourself? Saiid will be so hurt…'

Hearing Saiid's name, I suddenly shuddered and my eyes flew open.

Mrs Parvin looked at me and said, ‘What is the matter with you? Do you think he doesn't love you? Don't worry, this is what makes love sweet.'

She held the glass of tea up to my lips. I grabbed her hand with every ounce of energy I had and half rose.

‘Tell me the truth, is Saiid alive?'

‘What? Of course, he is. Why would you think he is dead?'

‘Because Ahmad…'

‘What about Ahmad?'

‘Ahmad stabbed him with his knife.'

‘Well, yes, but nothing happened to him… Oh… you have been unconscious ever since you saw the bloody knife… So all these nightmares and screams in the middle of the night are because of this? Poor me, my bedroom is on the other side of this wall. I hear you every night. You keep screaming, “No, no.” You shout for Saiid. You probably think Ahmad killed him. Right? Come on, child. Ahmad doesn't have it in him. Did you think someone can just walk out on the street, kill someone and casually go back home? The country has laws. It's not as simple as that. No, my dear, rest assured, all he did that night was put a scratch on Saiid's arm and another one on his face. Then the doctor and the other shop owners intervened. Saiid didn't even go to the police. He is fine. The next day, I myself saw him in front of the pharmacy.'

After an entire week, I could finally breathe. I closed my eyes and from the bottom of my heart I said, ‘Thank God.' Then I fell back on the bed, sank my face into the pillow and wept.