Nadereh removed the cape. Mother stood up and said, “Please Nadereh, don’t reopen my painful wounds. I have no choice. What can I do? Go back to Iran? I told you, I sold everything I had. I have to cope with all of this. God bless your parents; to me, you are dearer than my own children.”
NADEREH FINISHES HER BEER. When Parvaneh goes upstairs, Mahan stays in the living room with Nadereh. Mahan breaks the silence; he points to the bottle in front of her and says, “How about another one?” He looks at his watch and continues, “Ms. Ferdous is late, as usual.”
“You should stop her,” Nadereh says. “Don’t sit back and say, ‘It’s not my business.’”
“Is it though?” Mahan asks. “Who am I to tell her what to do?”
“Everyone says, it’s not my business,” Nadereh says. “I’m just a nobody, but at least I care for her.”
BY THE TIME NADEREH HAD FOUND OUT about Ferdous’s decision, the surgery was only a week away. Nadereh was attending a seminar at Parvaneh’s workplace. After the seminar, they returned to Parvaneh’s office to visit and catch up on things. When Parvaneh told Nadereh about Ferdous’s decision, Nadereh said, “I can’t believe it. The poor woman is finally going to stand on her own two feet.”
“Not exactly. Ferdous has been depressed again. She told me her doctor has increased her medication.”
“So her decision might be because of the depression?”
“I don’t know, but I think she’s being very unselfish and kind-hearted. You could give some thought to doing the same thing for someone.”
“My situation is different from hers. As you say, she’s depressed again. In my view, Ghobad and Frida are taking advantage of the poor woman.” Nadereh stood up and started to pace around the room. “I don’t believe that—” She stopped mid-sentence and said instead, “I’m going out for a cigarette.”
Parvaneh’s office was in a family resource centre located on a quiet tree-lined street. She had told Nadereh that the street brought back the memory of her father’s house, which was located on a similar street, Pasteur Avenue, in Tehran. When she was growing up, she only had to cross the street to attend school. When they wanted to sell the house and immigrate, Parvaneh had told Mahan that she would miss those trees, which made a canopy of green leaves in summer, even more than her father’s house, which she had so many memories of.
Nadereh sat on a bench in front of the building with her jacket on. Fall had just begun and the weather was getting cooler. Before she had smoked half of her cigarette, Parvaneh came out of the building with her coat on her shoulders. She’d sat down beside Nadereh, and said, “I thought you’d left. I don’t understand why you’re against Ferdous’s decision. I think she’s doing this just because she cares for other people. When she told me what she was going to do, I admired her for it.”
Nadereh took another puff on her cigarette, and as she exhaled, she muttered under her breath, “Love for humanity!”
“You should admire her,” Nadereh said sarcastically. “I’m sure anyone who hears about her decision will admire her and tell her what an unselfish person she is. But I….”
She didn’t finish her sentence. She stamped out her cigarette and said goodbye to Parvaneh. Before she walked away, she added, “Parvaneh, promise me like you would to anyone you love—your flawless husband, your daughter, lovely Mahasti, or your dear mother—that you will try to talk some sense into her and to find out why she wants to do this to herself. Isn’t she aware of the seriousness of the sacrifice she is making? I’ll do my best, but my words don’t mean anything to Ferdous. She doesn’t look at me the same way she does you. Sweet, innocent Ferdous doesn’t put much stock in my opinions. I’m nobody in her view, just a nothing. But you have a place in the community. You can make an impression on her.”
Parvaneh placed her hand gently on Nadareh’s arm and said, “I don’t understand what you find problematic about her decision. She’s doing a very shumane thing.”
Nadereh looked directly into Parvaneh’s eyes, struggling to control herself. She said angrily, “A humane thing! For someone who has control of their faculties, yes, it is a humane act, but not for Ferdous; she needs help herself. They’re taking advantage of her and she doesn’t know it. She believes she’s doing a selfless thing, but there’s no humanity in it. I spit on any humanity that Ghobad and Ibrahim represent. Doesn’t Ghobad have enough money now? He could easily take Frida to another part of the world where he could buy a kidney for her. I don’t understand why you’re feeling sorry for Frida. They’re disgusting.”
“Nadereh, don’t take it so badly. Frida has seen her share of misery. If you knew about her…”
“I know, I know. But has her life been any more difficult than mine has? And now, look at her, look at me. Are we in the same situation? What about poor Ferdous? Why doesn’t anyone feel sorry for her? Everyone wants to use her to solve their own problems. The Iranians who are so proud of themselves, they have all forgotten about her. As Ferdous says, no one has any patience for a person with mental health issues. But it’s not right to take advantage of the poor woman either.”
CHAPTER 5
IN THE BACKYARD OF PARVANEH’S HOUSE, Goodarz is sitting on a bench, smoking. Parvaneh, Nadereh, and Mahan are in the kitchen. When Nadereh told Goodarz she was going to Parvaneh’s house and that Ferdous was supposed to come, too, Goodarz, not one to give people unsolicited advice, asked how she planned to make Ferdous change her decision. Nadereh asked him to come with her, so he could accompany her home afterwards. She didn’t want to stay overnight at Parvaneh’s house and, the next morning, to have to accompany Ferdous to the hospital.
Goodarz was his parents’ only child. He didn’t remember too much about his father. When he was four or five, his father was sent on a work assignment to Europe—his mother hadn’t known anything about it. When the group returned two weeks later, Fariborz Namdaran wasn’t with them. When his mother called the company to ask about her husband, they told her Mr. Namdaran had gone on to France at the end of the job. They had also informed her that a large sum of money had been stolen from the company and that Mr. Namdaran was a suspect.
His mother, Minoo, had waited for her missing husband for years. Her father argued that she should divorce Fariborz and remarry. But she loved her husband deeply and didn’t have the courage to do her father’s bidding. A chartered accountant in the finance ministry, Minoo’s father was able to find a job for his daughter there. He also renovated his house and installed a second-floor apartment for Minoo and her son. He loved his daughter and wanted her to be happy, but he didn’t like being with Goodarz because the child reminded him of Fariborz.
Minoo waited twenty years for her husband to come back. In the meantime, Goodarz grew up and finished high school. Minoo devoted her life to him and never allowed him to lift a finger. If Minoo had not been killed in a car accident, she probably would have used all her resources to send her son to university, help him find a wife, and ensure he lived the good life.
In those years, many families tried to keep their young sons from fighting in the war with Iraq. However, Goodarz decided to go, hoping to die with honour. Being his mother’s only child, and therefore exempted from military service, after she died, he was able to enlist in the army voluntarily. Although he served on the front lines, he escaped the death he wished for. When his military service ended, he still had some money left, so he was able to leave the country. He went to Turkey and applied for asylum through the United Nations. As a refugee, he travelled to Sweden, where he first overcame his drug addiction, a problem he had since he was in the army. However, he was intensely lonel, and before long he turned to drugs again. After a few months, he met Delsi, a volunteer for humanity work, and they soon married. An intelligent, lively girl, she was an experienced global traveller, the daughter of a Swedish mother and a Venezuelan father. She travelled with Goodarz to Iran where they spent a few months visiti
ng many cities. Eventually they settled on coming to Canada.
In Canada, Delsi left Goodarz and disappeared. He divorced her while he was dating Edvina, whom he married a few months later in order to qualify for Canadian citizenship. Edvina was from Thailand and wanted a family. Together they had a daughter, but Goodarz never believed the child was his and didn’t have any feelings for her. Edvina opened a fast food restaurant in downtown Toronto and wanted Goodarz to work for her full time, but his heart wasn’t in it. She constantly nagged him, reminding him of his past and putting him down. Finally, he collected his meager belongings—a bag of clothing and a few books—and left. She wasted no time applying for a divorce and Goodarz obliged. He relinquished all claims, including custody and weekly visits with her daughter.
He met Nadereh on a cold and snowy winter night, when volunteers were collecting homeless people from the streets. He was taken to a shelter where Nadareh was working the night shift. They soon developed a close and deep friendship. Sometimes he imagined he was in love with her, but he warned himself to be careful—he wanted to avoid another painful relationship.
MAHAN JOINS GOODARZ AS HE IS FINISHING his cigarette. He quickly becomes absorbed by the beauty of a cardinal flitting among the branches of the cedar tree.
Standing up, Goodarz watches the bird fly away. He says, “Canada’s nature amazes me.”
“It amazes me, too. And I have grown to love it. I never imagined I could stay away from my country for so long. I’ve been here for almost a decade now.”
“I don’t care where I live. I don’t want to be dependent on anything; it makes a slave out of me,” Goodarz retorts, his voice gruff.
Mahan turns away from the tree and looks at Goodarz as he says, “All of us are slaves. Indeed, everyone is a slave to something.”
Goodarz smiles, thinking to himself, You would think like that. You’re probably the slave to this house, your wife, your child, and your work.
Nadereh opens the kitchen door and leans out into the backyard, calling, “Ferdous is here. Can you two please come in?”
Goodarz says, “You guys take care of your business, then give us a call and we’ll come in.”
Nadereh says, “Come in. Don’t forget what I told you. Don’t just sit there. We need your opinions.”
Mahan jumps up and follows Goodarz into the kitchen.
Ferdous is wearing tight black pants and a striped black-and-green shirt. Her hair is light brown except for the red and gray roots. She wears dark red lipstick and light green eyeshadow, which gives her big brown eyes a sleepy appearance. The slanting rays of sunshine light up the flowerbeds—the flowers are bright red, violet, yellow, and white—and come through the kitchen window, shining on the table and the stove. Looking out, Ferdous exclaims, “What a beautiful backyard! It’s really fantastic. How lovely!” She turns to Parvaneh and Mahan and says with resignation, “Life in an apartment is very boring. It’s like living in a cage. Back home in Iran, my father’s yard in Shemiran was like an orchard. I miss it.”
Standing by the door, she turns around and says, “I prefer to sit here where it is so lively and bright. I hope you don’t mind.”
Nadereh speaks up. “Go ahead. Parvaneh won’t charge you anything for watching her backyard.” She pulls a chair close to the window and says, “Have a seat, please.”
Mahan brings tea for everyone, and Parvaneh offers her visitors a tray loaded with pastries, chips, and pistachios.
Nadereh ask Ferdous, “Why are you so late? You were supposed to be here at four and it’s almost five-thirty now.”
Instead of answering, Ferdous gulps back the hot tea. Putting the cup in the saucer, she looks around at everyone—Nadereh and Parvaneh are all sitting on chairs, Mahan leans against the counter with a cup of tea in his hand, and Goodarz is standing by the door that leads into the backyard.
Parvaneh says, “What about you two? Don’t you want to sit down? This is supposed to be an official meeting.”
Mahan brings two more chairs from the dining room into the kitchen.
Nadereh declares, “Let’s get down to business.”
Goodarz says, “Let the poor girl relax for a minute.”
Nadereh places her empty cup on the saucer and looks at Mahan, who is putting a dish of fruit on the table. She says, “You don’t have to wait on us. We can serve ourselves.”
Ferdous takes a big pastry, nibbles on it, and pours herself a second cup of tea. Nadereh says, “Ferdous, have you really thought about the decision you have made?”
Ferdous’s hand stops on its way to her mouth. “What do you mean?”
Parvaneh says, “She means about donating your kidney.”
Ferdous ignores Parvaneh’s question and instead says, “I’m going to tell you something funny. When I was getting dressed to come here, Ladan called me. Guess what she wanted?”
Nobody says anything. Ferdous continues, “I’m sure none of you can guess.”
Nadereh declares, “Well, tell us. But remember, we are here for a reason, not just for you to tell us riddles.”
“Wait a minute, my dear. You’re really impatient.”
“You didn’t answer me,” Nadereh says seriously. “Tell us truthfully, did Ghobad force you to make this decision about your kidney?”
Ferdous pushes away the dish of half-eaten pastry. She stares at Nadereh as though she doesn’t understand what she’s saying, and asks, “Can I go to the washroom?”
Parvaneh answers, “Sure. You know where they are: one upstairs and one in the basement.”
Ferdous slowly walks out of the kitchen.
Parvaneh glances up at the clock and says, “I’d better get us something else to eat. It’s getting dark.” She sets the table and then starts to prepare a light dinner.
During dinner, no one speaks. It is silent around the table except for the sound of people eating or pouring drinks, and the noise of forks and knives hitting the plates. Ferdous is quiet, playing with the potato salad on her plate and not really eating. She toys with her bread and then the small scoop of pasta that Parvaneh has just added to her plate.
“Why don’t you eat?” Parvaneh asks. “Don’t you like it? Or have you already eaten?”
Ferdous nibbles at her food like a child obeying her mother’s command. She says, “See, I’m eating. You made too much and there is so much to choose from….”
They eat silently for a few minutes, but then Ferdous says, “When I went to the washroom in the basement, I looked around down there. It’s nice and bright, and you’ve finished it very nicely. There is a bath, bedroom, and a living room with a small kitchen….”
She stops talking and looks around. Nobody says anything. They look down at their plates to avoid looking at each other. Ferdous continues, hesitantly. “I was wondering if I could rent your basement. I really like your house. It’s even better than Ghobad and Frida’s. And their house has ten or twenty rooms. You can get lost in it. They have a room in the basement for their guests, and I stayed there overnight once. But their basement is dark like a grave. They said it was quieter down there, but I could hear their footsteps above me. Their swimming pool was beside the room I slept in, and I kept hearing odd noises coming from there. It was as if ghosts were swimming in the pool. To tell you the truth, I was scared to death and I woke up several times in the middle of the night. The next time they asked me to stay, I refused. I was afraid they would send me to the basement again.”
Nadereh says, “Why didn’t you tell them that you were afraid?”
Ferdous ignores Nadereh. Staring into space, she says, “I was asking whether Parvaneh and Mahan would rent me their basement. I’m really sick and tired of living in an apartment. My depression is mostly because I live in that filthy apartment. My doctor said that if I change my living conditions, I’ll feel better. You don’t know what a disgusting place it is. You can’t imag
ine what kind of tenants live there. They don’t care about other people, or about keeping the place clean. There’s always a bad smell in the hallway. Tonight, it occurred to me—would it be possible to move into your place?”
Her words are imploring. She looks from Parvaneh to Mahan, waiting for an answer, but they give her a puzzled look and say nothing. She looks at Nadereh and then Goodarz and asks, “What do you think? Isn’t it a good idea?”
Nadereh has finished eating. She gets up, puts her plate in the sink, and says, “I’m going out for a cigarette.” She looks at Goodarz and asks, “What about you? Do you want to smoke?” He looks like someone who has just been awakened from a deep sleep. He shakes himself and stands up. Nadereh turns to Mahan and declares, “Don’t touch the dishes. I’ve promised to wash them.”
Offended, Parvaneh chides Nadereh. “Go and have your cigarette. Don’t worry about the dishes.”
Ferdous is still sitting with her head down, playing with a piece of bread in her hand when Nadereh and Goodarz return to the kitchen. She finally raises her head, and looks at Nadereh for a long time, then at Goodarz. She seems lost in thought. Nadereh is sure Parvaneh’s answer has been negative and that Ferdous is upset.
Parvaneh is spooning leftover food in containers and putting them into the fridge, muttering under her breath, “Most of the food was untouched. No one ate anything.”
Nobody says anything. A painful silence settles over the group.
“It’s time for some tea and cake,” Parvaneh declares.
Nadereh says, “Do you want to make us burst? Ever since we’ve arrived, all we’ve done is eat. We were supposed to talk about a very important issue—an issue of life and death. It seems that you don’t even want to start.”
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