Things We Left Unsaid (14 page)

Nina gathered up the box with the china statuette and the wrapping paper. She looked toward the door, leaned forward, and beckoned us closer. She lowered her voice: ‘Keep it between us
– Violette doesn’t know yet, but...’ She looked at me. ‘Do you remember the Dutchman I told you about on the phone? If he and Violette get along, it wouldn’t be a bad
match. I’ve invited him over tonight.’ She stood up and laughed. ‘He seems a little screwy to me. But, then, most foreigners seem a bit bonkers to us Iranians. If he marries
Violette and they leave Iran, wouldn’t that be a triumph! Violette is not made for life in Iran.’ She tucked the empty box and the wrapping paper under her arm. ‘Let me go throw
these away.’

On her way to the kitchen, she told Mother, ‘Oh, you’ll never guess what I’ve made for dinner. Lubia polow! See what a homemaker I’ve become? It’s about time to
marry me off, no?’ She laughed heartily. I looked over at Alice. She was pouting. Talk of marriage always does it, I thought. God give Mother patience tonight.

As soon as Nina was out of the room, Mother started her muttering. ‘I’ve told you a thousand times you should stay away from this couple. Not an ounce of dignity or morality.
Whatever passes through their heads comes straight out their mouths, right in front of the children! They talk about marriage and divorce like it’s a dress you buy and return if you
don’t like it. We should never have come. It’s all Clarice’s fault that...’

I jumped up. ‘I’ll go help Nina set the table.’

In the kitchen, Nina asked me, ‘All by your lonesome?’ She looked to the doorway and when she was sure that Mother and Alice were not behind me, she giggled and said in a low voice,
‘Actually, I brought Violette with me to Abadan because...’ She looked again toward the door and almost whispered, ‘Because Tigran had a terrible crush on Violette.’

My jaw dropped and I looked wide-eyed at Nina. ‘What?’

I pictured skinny, quiet, and shy Tigran. He wore glasses and was always studying. Always top of his class. He did not go to the movies or to clubs, and he did not have any friends. His hobby
was tinkering with electronics. Mother had often said, ‘Isn’t that amazing? Such a well-behaved boy from such frivolous parents!’

Nina was explaining. ‘When Violette got divorced and returned to live with her mother, Garnik’s aunt, Tigran was also living there. After a few days I saw that the boy had gone all
loopy. He either listened to love songs or would sit in a corner and stare at Violette, like a dog before its master. And don’t imagine that Violette was flirting or anything like that.
She’s not like that at all! I’m a woman, too, and no idiot. I know what’s what. No. It was not Violette’s fault at all. It’s no sin for a girl to be pretty. Her looks
set her apart from other women, so people gossip about her. That’s why I said Europe would be good for her. Over there the streets are full of blond-haired, fair-skinned women. I did some
investigating, and the Dutchman’s assignment is almost over. Let’s see what we can do tonight.’ She took the salad out of the fridge. ‘Maybe we’ll be able to
accomplish a good deed.’ And she laughed from the bottom of her heart.

The twins ran into the kitchen. Armineh said with pouting face, ‘Uncle Garnik bought Sophie...’

Arsineh’s lip curled, ‘...bought Sophie a hula-hoop.’

Then the two of them started in. ‘Uncle Garnik said that a hula-hoop is not bad for the back.’

‘It’s not bad at all.’

‘All the kids have hula-hoops.’

‘Please get one for us.’

‘Please, please get one!’

Garnik shouted from the living room. ‘I’ll get you one, not to worry. Come on out here, now. The rabbits have joined the party.’

‘Yippee!’ and ‘Fantastic!’ shouted the twins, as they ran out.

Nina picked up the fruit bowl. ‘I don’t know who started circulating the rumor that hula-hoops cause backaches. No one spins a hula-hoop twenty-four hours a day. Relax. They’ll
play for two or three days and then toss it in a corner of the yard. Can you bring the dessert plates?’ And she headed for the living room.

Violette was sitting on the carpet, cradling one of the bunnies. Her tight black skirt had hitched up, and her white un-stockinged knees were on display. Sophie and the twins were sitting around
her, each with a bunny in their arms. Armen was petting Violette’s bunny.

Mother was staring straight at the empty drink glasses. Alice had practically turned her back on Mother and was staring at the bare wall of the room. Her crossed leg was kicking rapidly up and
down. Mother and Alice are fighting, I said to myself. Garnik was asking Artoush’s advice about where to install the new air conditioner. Before coming over, I had warned Artoush,
‘Don’t get into any political arguments.’

I was helping Nina set the dinner table when the bell rang.

It was the tall Dutchman, with very short, straight hair, the color of straw. His freckled face was a tad reddened, most probably from sunbathing. He shook hands firmly with each of us, one by
one, even the children. He spoke in Persian, ‘Greetings! I am Joop Hansen. I am very pleased to meet you, sir.’

Violette, sitting there on the floor, raised her rabbit-less hand slightly and said, ‘See what a lovely rabbit I have?’

In order to shake hands with Violette, Joop Hansen practically knelt on the ground. ‘Exceedingly pretty is the rabbit.’

Violette only smiled. The Dutchman’s somewhat formal, somewhat broken Persian did not surprise her nor make her laugh. I remembered that Nina had said, ‘Garnik’s niece reminds
me of you.’ I thought Nina had lost her mind. I did not see the slightest resemblance between myself and this woman, neither in her looks, nor in her behavior. Though I would not have minded
being like her at all, in either department.

Joop Hansen had a pleasant manner and smiling face. He asked Artoush not to call him Mr. Hansen, and to speak Persian rather than English, saying, ‘For speaking Persian I am most
eager.’ At the dinner table, when he offered the platter of pilaf to my sister, Mother and Alice both smiled for the first time that night.

Alice thanked him and explained she was eating salad. Joop raised his blond eyebrows. ‘Why? Do you not like Lobiya pilof?’

‘I like it,’ said Alice, ‘but...’

Joop set the platter down on the table, picked up the salad bowl and offered it to Alice. ‘Ahh! You must be on a diet.’ He pushed his chair back and looked Alice over carefully.
‘You don’t need any diet. To my considered opinion, you are very, very excellent as you are.’

When we returned home, Artoush picked my dress off the bed, where I had tossed it. He turned it over this way and that, and said, ‘If I had not seen it on you tonight, I’d have
thought it belonged to the twins.’

I snatched the dress from him and hung it up in the wardrobe. ‘Don’t joke. Go ahead and say I’m too thin.’

I heard him say behind me, ‘To my considered opinion, you are very, very excellent as you are.’ Then he laughed aloud. ‘At that instant you could have lit a score of 100-watt
bulbs with the light in your sister’s eyes.’

I turned down the covers on my side of the bed. ‘Violette has a nice figure, no?’

Artoush turned down the covers on his side. ‘Does she have a nice figure? I didn’t notice.’ He began humming Nat King Cole’s ‘Mona Lisa.’

‘Thank you for not arguing politics with Garnik.’

He made a face at me and, mimicking Joop, said, ‘Your wish is my command.’

I tried not to laugh out loud and wondered why people thought of Artoush as grumpy. I asked him, ‘Are you coming to the 24th of April ceremonies on Thursday?’

He closed his eyes and yawned. The only thing he said was, ‘Hmm...’ which surely meant no. I turned out the night lamp.

The auditorium at the school was full. Wreaths of white gladioli with wide black ribbons were pinned to the walls at regular intervals. Mother was grumbling at Alice. ‘I
told you we’d be late. But no, off you go to the hairdresser on a day of mourning! Would the sky have fallen if you’d waited a day?’

I pointed Nina out to Mother – she was waving to us from the second row, where she had saved us seats. We threaded in between the chairs and through the people, saying excuse me a dozen
times until we finally made our way to Nina.

Alice – half-seated, half-standing – looked over her shoulder to scan the entire hall. She began to report who was there and what they were wearing. Nina handed me the
evening’s program and asked, ‘What kept you?’

Mother answered, ‘Lady Alice went to the hairdresser.’ Again she harrumphed: ‘The hairdresser on the Day of Mourning!’

Nina whispered in my ear. ‘You never know, maybe the Day of Mourning will turn out to be her lucky day!’ She giggled and looked around her. ‘But looks like only old hags and
geezers have turned out. Did you leave the kids with Artoush?’ (She did not ask why Artoush had not come. There was no need to explain.) ‘Garnik insisted that Sophie must come
too.’ Dropping her voice an octave or two, she mimicked him. ‘ “Children must learn from this age what our people have suffered.” But the little squirt threw such a tantrum
that her Papa eventually gave in. I left Violette at home, too, on the pretext that Sophie not be all alone. What would Violette do here, anyway? She’d be bored. To be honest, if Garnik were
not the Master of Ceremonies, I would not have come myself. So, tell me, what’s new?’

Before I could say nothing was new, she began exchanging pleasantries with a woman sitting in the row in front of us, whose husband was the first speaker of the evening. I read the program:

The lights in the auditorium dimmed and Garnik came up to the microphone. He gave the welcome and then Madatian began his speech. I remembered the 24th of April commemoration
many years ago, when Artoush and Madatian got in a heated argument. Things would have gotten out of hand if not for Garnik, who diffused the situation with joking banter and pleasantries. After
that incident, I had told Artoush time and time again, ‘Why insist on political differences on this of all days? It makes no difference whether one is a leftist or a conservative. All these
people got massacred! Even if you’re not Armenian, you have to feel something, you have to grieve, and you should take part in the commemoration.’ Artoush would always reply, ‘I
do feel grief, but I will not take part.’

I was listening and not listening to Madatian’s talk. We heard the same things over again every year – some statistics and some slogans, that’s about it. Nina looked over at me
several times and then looked pointedly in the direction of Mrs. Madatian. She put her finger to her lips to say that she must keep quiet, since it would surely offend the lady if anyone talked
during her husband’s speech. Mrs. Madatian turned around several times to stare down the people behind her, who apparently did not know the speaker was her husband, and that they must keep
quiet. Everyone was whispering to their neighbor and fanning themselves with the program. I fanned myself too, and tried to remember whether I had given the twins their Haliborange that morning. I
had, I now remembered, because they had complained:

‘But what about Armen?’

‘But how long will we have to take this syrup?’

‘But if we take it to keep from catching cold, why doesn’t Armen?’

Mr. Madatian waved his notes excitedly and after a few more long sentences, concluded his talk. I clapped along with everyone else. A few people sitting near Mrs. Madatian congratulated her. She
smiled and thanked them, as if she herself had given the talk, and when her eyes lit upon me, she turned away.

Mother was exchanging greetings with a woman a few rows behind us. Alice leaned over to me across Mother, who was sitting between us. ‘Guess who’s here? Mrs. Nurollahi! Sitting in
the back of the auditorium.’ I was about to turn around, when Garnik came on stage and began to read the report about the construction of the memorial. On one of the occasions I was summoned
to the school over Armen’s trouble-making, Vazgen Hairapetian had shown me the sketch of the memorial monument. It was a large rectangle made out of grey stone. Carved on one side was a woman
carrying her lifeless child in her arms, and engraved on the other side were the dates of the genocide. Garnik announced that the monument was nearly completed and would be erected in the school
yard the following year, in front of the door to the church. He then thanked all those present for their financial and moral support and announced a fifteen-minute intermission.

Mother said she was going to stay in the auditorium to chat with her friend, who had just come back from Julfa, and was sitting a few rows behind us. Nina said she was going backstage to see
what Garnik was doing, and took Alice along with her. I headed over to one of the exits that opened on to the schoolyard. Just in front of the doors, I stood aside to let a man carrying some
sandwiches and Pepsis pass by. In one corner of the school yard, a good-sized crowd was mingling around the buffet table. I exchanged greetings with several acquaintances, and then saw Manya coming
toward me.

As usual, she was jumpy and excited. The white collar of her blouse was turned up on one side. I said hello and straightened her collar. ‘The wreaths and the ribbons are beautiful.
I’m sure they were your idea.’

She pushed aside a sweep of hair from her perspiring forehead. ‘Did you see the black armbands on the ushers?’

Of course I had seen them. The night before, Armen took the telephone into his bedroom, locked the door and talked for half an hour. He then came out to the kitchen, where Mother and I were
washing vegetables, and announced that he had decided to be one of the ushers for tomorrow’s program. And that Miss Manya had said the ushers need to wear black armbands. ‘Again you
have to wait until the last minute?’ I chided. ‘Where am I going to find black cloth in the middle of the night?’ His grandmother came to the rescue. If there was anything her
various trunks and boxes didn’t lack, it was black cloth. I told Manya, ‘Everything turned out splendidly. Thank you for all the trouble you’ve gone to! The next program must be
the end-of-year celebration?’