Lost in thought as I was, it took me a few seconds to realize I was being followed again. Yet, like last time, I couldn't see what trailed me. I was more desperate now, so I stopped and turned abruptly over and over again. When I saw a shadow dart into ruins, it was small, like a dog or a beast of sorts. My muscles relaxed. I didn't know what it was, but it was obvious it didn't want to cause me harm. At least not immediately. I tried to search for it but came up empty. The sun rose higher and took some of the early end of winter chill out of the air. I needed to return to the hotel and plan my next course of action.
I was still followed while I looked for a taxi to return to my hotel. Though I attempted to spy it again, the closest I came was to see its shadow one last time. Finally, I found a shared taxi and I left the creature – whatever it was – behind.
The man already in the taxi wore business attire. His brown suit looked of good quality and his facial hair was kept trimmed close to his face. He looked at me pensively.
"You look like you've had an encounter with the better than us creatures. Unless – " He looked to my feet and frowned. "There is something about you that is a little like them. You surround yourself with them too much, no?"
"I am looking for them, but have yet to find them."
"They do not see us that well, just as we cannot see them, but someone like you they could find if they wanted to. I wonder why they do not."
"What do you know about the Jinn?"
"I know what any learned man knows. But do not be fooled. They were made by Allah; they are not superior. And they cannot be trusted." The man asked the taxi to stop.
He paid his fare and told a blessing to the driver. Before the taxi drove off, I noticed him place a black turban on his head and walk towards the Mosque.
I didn't know enough about the clerics to know if their claimed connection with the supernatural was true or not, but I wished I had known I had been sharing a taxi with a Mullah so I could have asked him more questions.
When the taxi stopped in front of my hotel, a couple eagerly entered it, making it difficult for me to exit. After a few mumbled apologies and a bit of a standoff where we each told each other to go ahead, I finally exited and paid off my taxi, even though he, like every other taxi I had so far taken here, first insisted I didn't owe him anything and then proceeded to rip me off.
I was mentally calculating how much that fare had cost me in Canadian dollars while I approached the hotel. I opened the door and was then hit by a force that knocked me to my knees. When I looked up, an old man walked passed me and into the street. I rubbed my face trying to make sense of what happened. My stomach heaved and tried to empty itself, but I hadn't eaten anything in too long.
Once my breath returned to normal, I shakily regained my feet and looked behind me. The man who had knocked me down without even touching me rounded a corner. Though I knew I should chase him and get answers from him, my muscles didn't cooperate. I collapsed back to the sidewalk where I sat for several seconds before someone rushed from the hotel to help me up.
"Sir, are you a guest here?"
I nodded.
"You shouldn't be in the street in this state, my friend. It would not do for them to find you like this."
Did everyone know about the Jinn? And were they after me?
"At least you do not smell like it. But to be safe, take this, my friend." The man offered me a breath mint and I realized he thought I was drunk.
I straightened myself and smiled at him. "Thank you for your assistance, but I'm okay. I must have eaten something that didn't agree with me."
The man nodded eagerly. "I am happy you are okay, my friend." He patted me on the shoulder a few times so I smiled and nodded at him. Still, he insisted on walking me to the elevator, not leaving me until the doors closed between us.
Once I reached my room, the door was open. Inside, nothing was in its place. My clothing was scattered all over the floor, my personal effects randomly tossed on the desk, and my computer was missing.
Someone was worried about what I was doing here and I wasn't sure if it was supernatural or government forces at play (or if perhaps they were one and the same).
All my clothes fit weird. It's like I had a growth spurt or something. My pants are slightly too short, and saggy in the butt. I was never overweight but, like my friends, I could probably point out half a dozen features I wouldn't mind seeing improved. Now I'm scared I look too skinny. I’ve lost my curves.
I scrutinize my reflection in the floor length mirror. I don't exactly look like a different person. Though my clothes are fitting me differently, there’s nothing unfamiliar about the girl in front of me. My hair is straight now, but it should have always been.
Of course I’ve noticed the weirdness, how nothing makes sense, but I can either deny it and think I am going crazy, or accept that the world is stranger than I thought. Where I live, it just doesn't seem to be such a stretch to think things aren't always what they seem. I take a deep breath to try to get my heart to beat a little slower and to get myself to really believe I’m okay with this.
Maman and Bijan accost me on my way through the kitchen. Apparently, we have to talk.
"Don't think because we are letting you get away with your behavior last night that it means you can continue," Bijan says.
"Is something going on with you? We can arrange for you to talk to someone about it. My psychiatrist is really great. Why don’t I get you an appointment when I next book mine? What do you say? You could give her a try?" Maman adds.
Before the crazy things started happening, I might have taken Maman up on the offer. Many of my friends have psychologists. Many of them take pills, too. You need that stuff to make it through the day to day in Tehran. But what would I talk about with this psychologist? How I’m not who I used to be, but instead am finding who I really should be? It would be one way to get lots of pills prescribed.
"Thanks but there’s nothing wrong. Just regular school-friend stuff.” I sigh. “And I'm sorry about last night. It’s just… It’s difficult when all my friends are allowed to do things and I'm not."
"It's always for good reasons," Bijan says.
"And Nakissa jan, if your friends were to jump in a well, would you jump in too?"
I sigh. "No, I wouldn't," I mumble and try to make my escape since I know where this conversation is going and I'm hoping to meet up with Leyli before class.
I almost make it out of the kitchen.
"Wait. I need you to walk Ebi to school."
"Why? Isn't he old enough to go by himself yet?"
"Why? Because I asked you to. And because he got in trouble on his way to school yesterday and he needs his big sister to look after him."
I roll my eyes and shrug. “Whatever.”
"Hurry up, you're going to be late," I tell Ebi for the third time since we left the apartment.
He glares at me but doesn't say anything. We don't have a bad relationship; we just don't have much of a relationship at all. Ebi is all race cars and fighter games and American cinema. Okay, so we have the movie thing in common, but barely.
"So how did you get in trouble, anyway?
"These kids were harassing me. It's no big deal."
"Why?"
"I dress too nice."
"That's ridiculous."
He shrugs, so we continue walking in silence for several blocks when I notice him tense visibly.
"What's wrong?"
He doesn’t answer but he nods his head at a group of kids that are maybe twelve years old at most.
"What's that you're wearing? Didn't we tell you that you needed to dress more conservatively?" They point to Ebi's cardigan. Part of his private school's uniform. "And who is that girl with you?"
"My sister," he mutters. He’s not looking at them but at the ground at his feet. I feel anger rise inside me.
"And you let your sister go out of the house looking like that? Her hair sticking out of her scarf and her face covered in make up?" One
of the kid spits at me then turns back to Ebi. "You call yourself a man?"
I don't let Ebi answer. I push him behind me and walk towards the four boys. I don't care if I'm making a scene. Right now I don't even care if I get arrested or get lashes. I am just too mad. I poke my finger in the chest of the boy closest to me.
"If you have a problem with the way I dress, you will address it to me," I say. I feel energetic. Like I am drawing power from the boys. Feeding from them. The feeling is clear and crisp. I poke at him again and he steps back. His eyes are wide and his lips tremble. The wind is blowing now and tugs at my scarf, teasing the strands of hair. Almost pushing it off my head completely. I feel giddy. I poke him again and again. It isn't hard, it shouldn't be harming him, but each time, he takes a step back, and then his three friends take a step back as well. In the distance thunder roars and that is enough to send two of the boys running to the other side of the street.
The one I’m not poking stares at my feet. They think they will see hooves. I wish I was a Jinn, so that my power was real. Finally lightning cracks and the last two boys run away.
All around me, people are stopped on the street staring at me. Some younger people are cheering at me for standing up to the boys while a few other people are staring at me with frightened expressions or mumbling prayers. Many people just avoid my gaze and go back to what they were doing, as if trying not to catch my attention.
"What was that?" Ebi asks me. There is adulation in his eyes.
"Nothing, it was just luck to this storm broke out at the same time and scared those superstitious little boys away." I don't entirely believe it's luck, but I don't know how to even describe to myself what happened, let alone to someone else.
All I've heard all day at school from Leyli is about the cute foreigner. And as we walk from school to the Laleh Caf, it isn't any different. I want to argue that I saw him first but then I remember I have Ehsan. I check my phone for the tenth time just this past hour, but he still hasn't answered my last text. I'm sure he’s busy, but it’s the first time he doesn't drop everything he’s doing to answer me.
While I'm checking my phone – again – Leyli continues talking.
"... the people there were cool and Ehsan said that this crowd could open doors for us."
"Hmm?" I ask.
"At the party last night? What's wrong? You're just looking at your phone all the time."
"Oh, it's nothing. Ehsan isn't answering his texts. I'm sure he's just busy."
"What's the last thing you two talked about?"
"Well just that stuff in the car. About my music, remember?"
Leyli purses her lips. "I don't understand why he said that to you."
"I'm sure he didn't mean for it to sound so bad."
"Of course not. Ehsan is a good guy. A perfect boyfriend, right?"
"Right." But with everything that’s been going on lately, he seems like a complication.
Leyli opens the door for me and my heart stops. Ehsan is there with some friends – all boys, at least – but I’m angry. This is why he’s too busy to answer me?
Leyli stops right behind me and waves at him. "Look, azizam, there he is."
“Yeah, I noticed.”
She walks towards the boys and I'm left with little choice but to follow, though it does occur to me to sit at a different table to see if Ehsan would bother to seek me out. But then he might think I'm having a tantrum and I prefer to act cool. Wasn’t I just thinking he was a complication?
He smiles at me but he’s distracted. Maybe overloaded at school or at home; I know what that's like. I reach for his hand under the table, but he doesn't have it extended out to me this time. My heart sinks. Maybe he needs a bit of space, that’s common for boys, so I turn to Leyli and try to concentrate on what she’s talking about.
"As soon as I hear about another party, I plan to go. That's the Tehran lifestyle, you know? Just party."
"What about studying?" Ehsan asks.
She flashes him a great big smile. "Of course, azizam. We work hard and we play harder. That's all I meant."
He nods. "I did hear of another party. Maybe you girls want to come along. Was hooked up at that last party, so it's the same crowd. It’ll be safe. Very remote. Little chance of anything going wrong."
"Sounds great," Leyli says.
I cringe, though I quickly straighten my expression.
Leyli furrows her brows. "If we aren't too busy, that is."
Ehsan turns to me. "I'll text you with the details, okay azizam?"
I nod and smile. Ehsan isn't ignoring me. I was just overreacting earlier.
When I get home, Maman is already there. She's sipping coffee at the kitchen table while reading a book. Her glasses are pushed down on her nose.
The whole way home I thought of different scenarios and excuses to use to go to the party without telling Maman, but I’m still not any closer to a solution when I sit down beside her.
She puts down her coffee mug and studies me.
"I know it's hard growing up here.” She takes a deep breath. “Bijan and I have been talking about the possibility of moving to America. Either the United States or Canada. His industry has a lot of openings for a man with his education and experience. He’s talked about going to Texas or to Alberta.”
Before she finishes, I’m already shaking my head no. I can’t move. I open my mouth to begin my argument but she puts her hand out to stop me.
“We used to think we could give you a better life here. We do well financially. We are part of the elite." She sighs. "But maybe it's not enough."
I jump in before she can stop me again. "I don't want to go. I just want freedom. For example, there is a party tonight..."
"I understand why you think partying is so important. Believe it or not, I was your age once... Things were hard for me too. But Nakissa jan, I worry about your safety."
"Don't you trust me?"
"You, I can trust. Them..." She spreads out her arm and shakes her head. I don't know who she means by them. The government? Other kids? Supernatural creatures? Not that my mother would actually believe in supernatural creatures. She's much too practical.
"There will still be parties when you are older. Right now, you should worry about your schoolwork. This is where your future lies."
"What if my future lies with my music?"
"Your music?"
"See, Maman, you don't get it. You don't know anything about me. I play in a band. I'm really good."
"Since when?"
I realize that if I tell her I started playing a few days ago, she won't take me seriously. So, I change the topic. "So, about this party?"
"I want to tell you about a party I went to. Then we can talk about it."
I prepare myself for a boring story.
"It was shortly after the revolution and we were celebrating."
I clench my teeth. I always become angry when Maman speaks of the revolution. How she had protested against the shah. How she had distributed fliers and propaganda. It is her and her generation that is responsible for the mess we're in. I bite my tongue. This isn’t the time and we've had this discussion too often already.
"The party was raided and the only thing that saved me was that they had no way of proving that we were part of the Tudeh – the communist party. But they did take me for questioning. Do you realize how scary that is for a fifteen year old? And the things I saw… The things I heard…" Maman closes her eyes for a few seconds. "I know you've seen footage on television, but it's not the same. You do not feel the way the very air around you is changed when they fire on people.” Using her fingers, she traces circles on the countertop. “I saw an execution. I was on the ground, and the prisoners were on the roof… I felt such a strong connection to one of them. I don't know how to describe it, Nakissa. But at that moment I knew that one day I would have a daughter, as if I felt I needed to replace one of the lives that had been taken that day. It’s when I decided what I would name you. Even before you
were conceived. Like the soul of some executed prisoner touched me somehow. Well, never mind that. It all sounds like nonsense. All I’m trying to say is that I know how bad things can be, azizam."
Souls? I’ve never heard her speak like that before. Is this how she’s trying to connect with me? By acting spiritual? I sigh. "But times are different now. And I'm not part of a communist party. I just want to play music."
Maman adds even more sugar to her coffee and stirs it slowly. "Why don't you play for me?"
I'm about to argue that I don't have a harp, but realize I can use Ebi's guitar.
I go find him in his room and he pauses his video game when I enter. I stop to catch my breath. My brother is waiting for me to say something but the Fetid Crimson poster in the center of his wall commands all my attention. I'm not a fan, but I know who they are and recognize many of their songs. The groupie thing isn't really me. I never spent much time or energy on any band. I’m more into boys and make-up… well, at least I used to be.
On this poster, Ramtin is looking straight at me (at the camera, I guess) and I swear I know him. Like really know him. I shake my head and tear myself away from his unsettling gaze so I can ask Ebi to borrow his guitar.
He shrugs and resumes playing his game.
I return to the kitchen with the guitar in hand. Maman is waiting for me and my hands feel sweaty. The guitar doesn't pull me in the way the harp does but I'm sure I can play it. I have before.
I move a chair to face her and sit on it, cradling the instrument on my lap. I pick at its strings and at first it sounds like nothing. Worse than nothing. It sounds awful. But I continue, and my vision begins to fade.
I don't know where the hallucination has taken me this time. The only thing I can really concentrate on is who. Because Ramtin is standing directly in front of me. His smile is crooked, his eyebrows a little too thick. His light colored eyes are cold. I don't know how I could have found him attractive. Someone else enters the room. The French man. I can't see his facial expression but he turns and leaves the room. I had something I wanted to say to him. I stop playing.
Deliverance Page 6