A Bitter Veil (20 page)

Nouri said he didn’t have the energy. “I can’t fight any more. All the hate and anger and cries for revenge. It’s exhausting.”

Good for Nouri, Anna thought.

But Hassan’s reply was honey sweet. Anna couldn’t quite catch it, but she thought he was saying that Nouri must focus more. “As I said, the right choice is critical.” He paused. “I am sure you will be a good Brother.”

*****

Anna couldn’t sleep. Nouri was downstairs. Drawers opened and closed; the kitchen door squeaked. Finally, she heard his tread on the stairs. He went up to the third floor and opened the door to the roof. Or was it the closet? She heard a thump as the door closed. Then he came into the bedroom and undressed, making no effort to be quiet. The mattress sagged as he fell into bed. He rolled first in one direction, then the other. The sheets whispered as he pulled them up to his chin.

Anna stayed very still. Then she said, “I’m still awake.”

Nouri grunted.

She reached across the bed for him. “Nouri, Azizam, I heard what you and Hassan were discussing downstairs. About Baba-joon.”

Now it was Nouri who lay very still.

“That was…just talk, right? You aren’t going to follow through with it.”

“What?” Nouri asked

“What you and Hassan talked about…the house. Baba-joon.”

He pushed her arm away and rolled over on his side. He didn’t say anything for a moment. “You have the nerve to listen in on my conversation? To eavesdrop like a common thief?” When she didn’t answer, he rolled back and grabbed her shoulders.

Anna winced. “That hurts.”

“I hope it does,” he snarled. “Once again you have disobeyed me. You had no business listening. I am through with you. You are no more than a piece of trash.”

She was about to utter a retort when she remembered her conver-sation with Baba-joon. She decided not to retaliate. Instead she said, “Nouri, I love you. I always will. But this isn’t working. I’m miserable, and so are you. We’ll both be happier if you let me go. Please.”

Nouri stubbornly shook his head. “How many times do I have say it? I make the decisions. And I have decided you will never leave.”

“Nouri, we’re drowning. You’re not working. I’m not working. If we don’t do something soon, we’ll run out of money. Then what?”

Nouri’s eyes narrowed as if he suspected her of a crime. “Why do you care? Allah will provide.”

“As long as his name is Baba-joon.”

Nouri’s breathing grew more shallow. “You dare to criticize me? And Baba-joon? You were the one who went behind my back. Who deceived me. Your lies and treachery are a crime. Do you know I can report you? You could be arrested. You could be beaten, taken prisoner, maybe even stoned to death.”

Anna tried to rein him in. “I know you don’t mean that, Azizam.”

But Nouri was working himself up. His body went rigid, his voice raw. “I am not your Azizam. Never again.” The moonlight streamed in, sowing his eyes with beads of rage.

Anna tried to wriggle out of his grasp. “I’m going to sleep downstairs on the couch.”

“No. You won’t. Not unless I give my permission.” He rolled on top of her. His smell was a combination of rose water, smoke, and sweat. She used to crave it, but now she found it repugnant. She tried to push him off, but he was stronger, and her attempts only made him settle on her more firmly. He seemed heavier than usual. Anna struggled to breathe.

“I should never have married you. I should have listened to my family,” he seethed. “They warned me.”

Anna’s stomach twisted. Was he making that up just to be cruel? He started moving on top of her. To her shock, he was hard. She thrashed her legs and arms about, trying to shove him off, but he had her pinned.

“Nouri. Please. Don’t.”

He ignored her. He was behaving like a stranger. A rageful, vengeful stranger. How could he? She was Anna. He was Nouri. They were supposed to love each other. The gentle, intimate love that Rumi described so eloquently. Not this harsh, hurtful…act.

He started to pant and bore down on her, forcing her to spread her legs. He rammed himself inside her, thrusting hard and deep and fast. The pain was intense, but she wasn’t strong enough to fight him off. He started to grunt like an animal.

“Nouri, stop! You’re hurting me!”

But it wasn’t the pain that made her cry out. For the first time, she thought she knew what hate really felt like, and the depth of his rage terrified her. What if he lost control altogether? What if, in the midst of some future outburst, he killed her?

He kept going until he was finished.

Afterwards, a tear rolled down her cheek. Nothing would ever be the same.

Nowruz, the Iranian New Year, began on March 21st and, for the first time, the Samedis did not host a party. The Ayatollah disapproved of secular celebrations, so festivities throughout the entire country were subdued.

A few days later, Anna noticed a vial of Nouri’s pills in the bathroom wastebasket. When she asked him about it, he said he didn’t need them anymore. She fished through the trash and pulled them out. The label was written in Arabic, and she couldn’t understand anything on it, except Nouri’s name, which he’d taught her back in Chicago.

Nouri followed through with his threats. He made sure Anna could not leave the house by herself. Consequently, he was home more, and made life miserable for Anna. He took to changing his clothes several times a day, and ordered her to iron his shirts and pants. A tiny wrinkle sent him into spasms of rage. Anna suspected it took more energy to demean her and keep her isolated than to do whatever it was he did outside the house. Even so, her home had become a prison.

One morning Laleh came over. She now wore a manteau—a sort of overcoat—on the street, but underneath she was dressed in a tank top and hot pants. Nouri scowled, but Anna was thrilled to see her; it meant Nouri would be going out.

“Laleh will stay here while I’m gone,” he said as he went to the door. “I have given her strict instructions. If you disobey her, you will pay the price.”

Once he was gone, Laleh turned to her. “What did you do to him? I’ve never seen him like this.”

“It’s not me, Laleh. I swear it,” Anna said. “He’s keeping me prisoner.”

Laleh planted her hands on her hips. “I don’t believe you. Why would he do that? You are lying.”

Anna’s jaw clenched. Had Nouri turned the entire world against her? She weighed the risk of explaining, decided she had to try. At this point Laleh was her only hope. “Laleh, please. You must believe me. I’ve done nothing. I need help. I’m desperate.”

Laleh sniffed. “Nouri told me you’d say that. He said you’d try to convince me to help you escape.” She looked around, as if seeing their house for the first time, and sighed. “But I suppose I can’t blame you. This country is a hellhole. I am leaving myself.”

“How is that possible? Don’t you need written permission?”

“Until I am eighteen Baba must give it. But after that…” She flashed a conspiratorial smile. “My birthday is quite soon.”

“Where are you going? How will you live?”

“I’ll go to London. To join Shaheen.”

“But your mother…she’ll go crazy.”

Laleh shrugged.

A sharp pain throbbed in Anna’s temples. If Laleh could leave, why couldn’t she? It wasn’t fair. She had no one to fight for her, no one in her corner. The family she wanted to cherish had become her enemy. She’d never felt so alone.

“I’m going upstairs.” She stopped on the second floor and paused. Then she continued up to the third floor. She opened the door to the roof and stepped out. She walked to the edge and peered down over the cement patio, the chenar tree, the alley beyond. She could end it right now. Just one leap and it would be over.

As she took in a breath, the phone inside trilled. Evidently Nouri trusted Laleh not to let her, Anna, use it in his absence. She heard Laleh pick up. The conversation was muffled, but a moment later, Laleh raced up the stairs to the roof. Her face was white, her eyes wide with panic.

“What’s wrong?” Anna asked.

“That was Maman-joon. We must go home. They’ve taken Baba!”

*****

 “We…we were having tea outside, enjoying the spring morning.” Maman-joon sobbed, huddled on the living room sofa. Anna hadn’t seen Parvin in months. Her hair was much grayer, the lines on her forehead deeper, her face more gaunt. “A car swerved up to the gate. Three men got out and banged on it. I went to open it. They…they were in uniforms. And…and they were aiming machine guns at me.” Her face was tight with anguish. “They could have killed me.”

“What color were their uniforms?” Anna asked.

Parvin ignored Anna’s question, and swiveled towards Laleh. She spread her hands. “I had to let them in. I had no choice.”

Laleh pointed to Anna. “The uniforms, Maman. She wants to know if they were Guards. Were their uniforms dark green?”

“Yes. No. Two were green, I think. One brown. I really don’t remember.” Parvin wouldn’t make eye contact with Anna.

Laleh nodded. “Then what?”

“They were scruffy. They had beards. And they smelled bad. They demanded to see Baba. I told them to wait. They said no, that I must let them come with me. They warned me not to tell Baba they were here or they would shoot me.” She shivered.

“They were afraid he would escape.”

“They said they would take us both unless I cooperated.” Parvin covered her face with her hands. “What could I do?” Her tears tracked tiny rivulets down her cheeks.

Laleh put her arm around her mother, but Parvin shook her off.

“So they…they stalked up to the house. Baba had gone inside. I didn’t know why until he came back out. He was carrying a knife.”

Laleh gasped. Anna swallowed.

“Then they shouted, ‘You are Bijan Samedi?’ ‘Who are you’ he shouted back. They trained their machine guns on him.
Ay vây!
They were going to shoot him! I begged them to stop. ‘We have orders to arrest you for crimes committed against the Islamic Republic,’ they yelled. ‘Drop the knife now. If you make even one move against us, you are a dead man.’”

“Oh, god. What did Baba do?” Laleh asked.

“He froze. The men racked their guns.” Another shudder ran through Maman-joon.

Anna imagined Baba debating what to do. Weighing whether he could take them. Knowing it was impossible. Deciding whether to make the attempt anyway and die trying.

“Finally Bijan threw down the knife,” Parvin said. “One of them picked it up and stuffed it into his waistband. I hope it slashes his guts.” She spit on the floor. “Then they put handcuffs on Bijan and dragged him out. That was the last I saw of him.” Her face crumpled again, as if the pain of recounting the story was too overwhelming. Her body was wracked by sobs.

“Where did they take him?” Laleh asked.

“I don’t know.” Her voice cracked. She got up, and went into the kitchen. She came back with a glass of water and a pill, which she swallowed. She drank the water. “Whatever shall we do? Where is Nouri?” Her voice was shrill.

“We left a note at home,” Anna said. “I’m sure he’ll be here soon.”

Again Parvin ignored her.

“Did they take anything?” Laleh asked. “Besides Baba?”

“Isn’t that enough?” Maman-joon started to mutter. “The evil eye is all around us. It has cursed us. I knew it would happen.” She glared at Anna.

Laleh, sitting beside her mother, laced and unlaced her fingers. Anna wanted to tell her to put her arm around Parvin again. Her mother needed comfort. But Laleh just sat, and Anna couldn’t say anything. If Anna tried to soothe her mother-in-law Parvin would probably slap her. The three of them were silent for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts. Then a clanging sound rang out from the patio.

Parvin jerked back. “Now what?” Anna and Laleh exchanged looks. Parvin slumped against the sofa.

“I’ll go,” Laleh said.

“No.” Parvin gestured towards Anna. “Let her.”

Of course, Anna thought. If anyone was to be put in danger, it should be her. She went outside, crossed the patio, and walked to the gate. Three men were training machine guns on her. They all had beards, and they wore brown uniforms. Not Guards. Still, they yelled at her to open the gate.

“
Chee Shode?
What’s wrong?” she asked in Farsi.

“We are from the Martyrs’ Foundation. We command you to open the gate.”

Anna had heard of this organization. Created by Khomeini a year earlier, its mission was to confiscate property belonging to the shah’s family and his associates. The idea was to help people who had suffered under the shah. Kind of an institutional Robin Hood. In and of itself, it wasn’t a bad idea, Anna thought. It appealed to her sense of justice. But she had never been the target of their activities. And there was the question of whether the largesse really did go to the poor or ended up in the pockets of the mullahs. Whatever the reality, she had no choice. She had to open the gate.

The men tramped into the house. Laleh and Parvin cowered on the sofa. “We are here to confiscate the property in this house. You will stay in this room while we work,” one of the men pronounced.

“What’s going to happen to us?” Anna asked.

“Your family was allied with the shah. Your possessions are therefore corrupt. We must cleanse the house and return your stolen wealth to its rightful owners.”

“Ay vây!”
Parvin’s hands flew to her head. “They did this to the Golzars the other day. The Hemmatis too. They had to leave Tehran!”

“Are we going to have to leave the house?” Anna asked one of the men.

“We will see. If you renounce your wicked ways you may be allowed to remain.”

Anna’s nerves throbbed with dread, but she tried to stay calm. She turned to Laleh, whose face was now ashen. Parvin bowed her head, refusing to make eye contact with the men. Anna attempted to reassure the women. “Don’t worry,” she whispered. “I’m sure they won’t hurt us.” She hoped it was the truth.

As the men climbed the stairs, Laleh grimaced and raised her chin toward the staircase. Anna knew what she was worried about. Her records, makeup, books, and magazines. All things that were now forbidden. What would they do when they found them? For the first time since Anna had known her, panic unfolded across Laleh’s face. Her body went limp, as if she was waiting to be punished. Or worse. Parvin still wouldn’t look up, but her shoulders heaved with silent sobs.

The men clomped from room to room occasionally issuing a cry of triumph as they ransacked the Samedis’ belongings. Anna wished she could monitor what they were taking. It was impossible to stay in the living room as though she and her in-laws were simply drinking afternoon tea.

Twenty minutes later, two men descended the steps. The arms of one were loaded with several bags, each overflowing with clothes, books, and shoes. The other man carried Parvin’s jewelry box. It wasn’t entirely closed; gold chains and bracelets spilled over the top.

Laleh looked horrified. “You’re stealing our things! Put them back!”

The men laughed and carried the loot out. Then they came back in and went to work on the first floor. They confiscated gold-framed photos of the family: Bijan with Parvin, the family together. They took the paintings that hung on the walls; most of them abstract oils the Samedis had purchased in Europe. They raided Baba-joon’s office and came out with files, documents, and more photos. Back in the living room they seized books from the shelves, most of them first editions. They pocketed some of them, and flung the rest on the floor. They grabbed the turquoise peacock that sat on the mantle. One of them inspected it, then smashed it on the floor. He picked up the pieces and threw them into his bag. They stole candlesticks, cloisonné bowls, even the family’s silverware.

“Please!” Laleh jumped up from the sofa. “This is all we have.”

One of the men waved her away. “Don’t give me this
chert-o-pert.
Bullshit. People like you have already sent your money to Swiss bank accounts. Maybe you’ve even bought a house in America.”

Laleh raised her arms in supplication. “No. You’re wrong.
Lotfan
. Please. Where is my father?”

“He conspired against the Supreme Leader and the revolution. He will be tried and, if he is convicted, he will be executed.” The man sneered.

Parvin gasped. “
Nakhayr!
No!”

Anna chimed in. “My father-in-law is a well-respected man. By people from all walks of life.
Komak!
Help us!”

“Your father-in-law helped the shah exploit the people. Tell me. Where was he during the revolution?” The man’s tone was scathing.

“But…,” Anna gestured to the bags of loot, “…what are you going to do with all this? Where are you taking it?”

“It is none of your concern.” He glanced around. “We will be back. Maybe tomorrow.”

The man started toward the door, but stopped at Anna and Nouri’s wedding album, which was still lying on a shelf. He picked it up and started thumbing through the pictures. The second man joined him. They thumbed through the photos, glanced at Anna, then back at the album. The first one snapped it shut and shoved it under his arm.

“
Lotfan
. Please.” Anna begged them. “They’re from our wedding.”

“Lots of big shots there, no?” The men cackled.

Anna didn’t know whether to be embarrassed or enraged. Even though she had a copy of the album at home, they were invading her life. Stealing her memories.

When they finally left, Laleh and Parvin remained on the couch, huddled together, looking shell-shocked. Anna tried to pull herself together and made tea. Parvin refused to drink.

“I have an idea,” Laleh said. “Come with me.” Anna followed her into Bijan’s office where Laleh pushed against a section of wall behind the desk. A panel sprang open revealing a hidden compartment, in which, among other things, a bottle of bourbon was stowed. Laleh took the bottle, poured a shot, and tossed it down. She poured another and offered it to Anna, who shook her head.