I nodded, not understanding exactly what she meant.
“I mean, their culture is pretty patriarchal. The man is the head of the house and all that. I don’t know how Cassie’s going to deal with that.”
She took a sip of her martini and said, “And that mother-in-law, what a piece of work. I’ll bet she’s a real control freak.”
“She was nice last night,” I said, feeling like I ought to defend Navid’s family.
“Oh, I’m sure she’s nice, hon. But I’ll bet she likes to run the show. I mean, look at this place.” We both gazed around the ornate hotel lobby. “This just isn’t Cassie at all.”
“There are going to be two hundred people at the wedding,” I said.
Karen laughed. “That’s not Cassie, that’s the mother-in-law. Oh well.” She took another drink. “I hope she’ll be happy. God knows your mom’s had enough unhappiness to last a lifetime.”
I hoped Mama would be happy, too. She seemed happy at home with Navid and the baby.
“Okay, come on, kiddo.” Karen rose and took my hand. “Let’s go see what a Persian Bahá’í wedding looks like.”
We walked down the long hallway and into a huge room festooned with garlands of white roses and candles. White chairs stood in neat rows facing a small stage surrounded by white pillars, each topped with roses and candles. A man in a black tuxedo ushered us to the front row, where the bride’s parents usually sat.
Eventually the room filled with elegantly dressed people. All around us conversations buzzed in a lyrical language I couldn’t understand. Finally, a hush fell over the crowd as a string quartet began playing music.
Mr. and Mrs. Ghorbani arrived, sitting across the aisle from Karen and me. Then Navid walked into the room from a side door, followed by Azad, his brother-in-law. They stood on the stage, smiling and handsome in their black tuxedos.
Samira and Farid walked slowly up the aisle. Samira sprinkled flower petals in her wake. Farid held a small white pillow and stared solemnly ahead. When she saw me, Samira smiled.
After them came Maryam, dressed in a long gown of pale green with gold accents, the same colors as the dress I wore.
Finally, Mama appeared in the doorway. The string quartet began playing Pachelbel’s “Canon in D” and everyone rose. Mama walked up the aisle, looking nervous at first, then smiling when she saw Karen and me. So far, the wedding was just like an American wedding. It was fancier than anything I’d seen before, but still ...
Once Mama reached the stage, we all sat down and I waited to see what would happen next. A man rose and read a prayer by Bahá’u’lláh, the founder of the Bahá’í faith. Then Karen stood and read from the Bible about love being patient and kind. When she sat down, another man rose and began singing. It was a prayer, I learned later, chanted in Arabic, and it was hauntingly beautiful. Another man rose when he was finished and chanted in Farsi, another prayer.
Mama and Navid faced each other and said in turn, “We will all, verily, abide by the will of God.” Then they lit a candle and kissed.
The string quartet played again and they walked back down the aisle. The wedding was over.
Karen looked at me and smiled. “Well, that wasn’t so bad,” she said. “I wasn’t sure what to expect, but that was all right.”
We followed the wedding party down the aisle and into the hallway.
“Judy, how beautiful you are!” Maryam was smiling at me. She kissed both my cheeks and turned to Karen. “You must be Karen,” she said, shaking Karen’s hand. “I am Maryam, Navid’s sister. I’m so glad you could be here.”
She introduced Karen to Azad and Mr. Ghorbani, then led us back into the wedding room. “We will take some family pictures now. Samira, come away from the candles!” She strode away from us toward her children, who were leaning against one of the white pillars on the stage.
“Hey,” Mama said, scooping me into a hug. “Did you like the service?”
I nodded. “It was nice.”
“I’m so glad you’re here,” she said. “You, too, sis.” She hugged Karen.
“We have to take pictures now.” She grimaced. “I can’t believe how many pictures they want.”
A photographer spoke rapidly in Farsi, pointing this way and that. Maryam took my arm and led me to where he pointed, Karen trailing behind. We stood and smiled for what seemed like an hour, moving when the photographer told us to. Finally, he released us and we walked back to the hallway. My face hurt from smiling so much.
“Now,” Mrs. Ghorbani said to Karen, “you and Judy go in, and we will follow you.”
A man in white gloves opened the door to an even bigger ballroom that was filled with round tables covered in white cloths. Candles sparkled on each table, surrounded by garlands of white roses. Beautifully dressed people sat at the tables, talking in that bewildering, beautiful language that is Farsi.
The man led us to an empty table right up front, where we sat down and waited to see what would happen next. Soon, we were joined by Maryam, Azad, Samira, and Farid. Then Mr. and Mrs. Ghorbani entered the room, and everyone clapped. After they had been seated at the table with us, the door opened again and Navid led Mama into the room. Everyone clapped again.
Mama and Navid stopped by our table and kissed us all, then began circulating through the room. I watched as Navid introduced Mama over and over again, and people kissed her cheeks. She smiled, but I could see she was nervous.
People began filling their plates at the buffet tables, and still Navid and Mama circled the room, shaking hands and kissing cheeks. Karen and I followed Maryam and the children to the buffet and stared at the array of foods laid out.
“That is morasa polo,” Maryam said, pointing to a platter of rice that seemed to sparkle with berries and nuts. “And this is khoresht ghormeh sabzi. It has herbs and red beans and dried lemons. You will love it.”
There were kebabs and rice dishes and fruits and platters of vegetables. I’d never seen so much beautiful food in my life.
We returned to our table, our plates full, and ate until we could eat no more. And still Mama and Navid circled the room. Would they ever sit down and eat?
Finally, Mama plopped down in the chair beside me. She looked exhausted.
“Where’s Kamran?” she asked Maryam.
“He’s with Aunt Goli,” Maryam said. “He’s okay.”
“I need to nurse him,” Mama said. “My milk just let down.”
After a week with Mama and Kamran, I knew what she meant.
Maryam led Mama from the room.
A few minutes later, Mrs. Ghorbani came to the table. “Where is Cassie Joon?” she asked.
“She went to nurse the baby,” Karen said.
“Oh no.” Mrs. Ghorbani shook her head. “But it’s time to cut the cake.”
She walked purposely toward the door where Maryam had just led Mama.
Karen raised an eyebrow to me, as if to say, “See?”
After a few minutes, Mama returned, looking flustered and unhappy. She let herself be led to the huge wedding cake and smiled for the camera as she and Navid cut the cake.
Then, they walked to the dance floor. A band began playing a waltz, and Navid tried to lead Mama through their first dance. He was whispering the beat in her ear; I could see it from where I sat. Mama just laughed as she tried to follow him. Eventually other couples arrived on the dance floor and Mama came back to our table.
“Jesus Christ,” she hissed to Karen, leaning heavily against her shoulder. “Is this ever going to end?”
But the evening was only beginning. After the cake was eaten, the Persian dancing began and all of us ended up on the dance floor. Mama had taken her shoes off by then. I saw Mrs. Ghorbani frown at that, but Mr. Ghorbani patted her arm and whispered something to her, and she let it go.
The dancing was fun. I picked up the steps easily, and before long, I could follow even the most intricate patterns. Navid laughed and patted my shoulder. “We’ll make a real Persian of you, Judy,”
he said, looking proud.
Finally, sometime long after midnight, the last of the guests said their good-byes, kissing cheeks with Mr. and Mrs. Ghorbani, then with Navid and Mama, Maryam and Azad, and Karen and me. I’d been kissed more in one night than I had been in my whole life.
Navid retrieved Kamran from his Aunt Goli and ushered Mama into the limo. Karen and I followed. As soon as the car pulled away from the hotel, Mama pulled the strap of her pink gown down and began nursing the baby. She sighed deeply and seemed to relax into the plush leather seat.
“Thank God that’s over,” she said, smiling at the baby’s head.
“Oh, it wasn’t so bad, was it?” Navid kissed her cheek.
Mama just smiled at him.
“Does anyone else want a drink?” Karen opened the tray, pulling out a fresh bottle of champagne.
“No, thank you,” Navid said. “But you go ahead.”
So Karen drank champagne while Mama nursed, Navid smiled, and I fought to keep my eyes open. The wedding was over. Mama was married.
The next morning, Daddy arrived at the apartment and handed Mama’s car keys to Navid.
“Congratulations,” he said, shaking Navid’s hand. “I hope you’ll be very happy.”
“Thank you, Kirk,” Navid said. “I will do my best to take good care of her.”
Karen was flying back to Indianapolis on the same flight, so we all packed our suitcases into Navid’s car. Mama stood on the front step of the apartment building, holding Kamran, fighting back tears.
Daddy kissed her cheek and told her to be happy. Karen hugged her tightly and told her to call if she needed anything, anytime.
Then it was my turn.
Mama hugged me tightly, and I felt her tears falling on my head.
“Oh, my Sweet Judy,” she crooned. “I love you so much. Thank you for coming.”
I simply clung to her, my words stuck somewhere deep in my throat.
“Maybe you can come back at Christmas,” she said, kissing my forehead. “Would you like that?”
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
“Okay, then, we’ll plan on that. You be good now, okay? And take care of your dad. And ... and I love you.”
“I love you, too, Mama.”
She kissed me once more and then I climbed into the backseat of the car with Karen and we drove away. I looked out the back window until we turned the corner, watching Mama as she stood crying on the step, cradling Kamran and waving good-bye.
24
I did not go to California for Christmas. First Daddy said it would cost too much. When Mama and Navid offered to buy my airplane ticket, he said no to that, too.
“Why not?” I asked.
“Because I said so,” he replied.
“But, Daddy, that’s not fair.”
“Judy, drop it, okay? Maybe we can go next summer. But I can’t afford to take off work again, and I’m not letting you fly out there by yourself.”
“Well, I think you’re just being mean,” I yelled as I stomped up the stairs to my room.
When I talked to Mama on the phone that night, she sounded sad but said she understood.
“I wouldn’t want you flying by yourself, either,” she said. “Your dad’s right about that. I just wish he could come with you.”
“He says he can’t take off from work,” I said.
I heard her sigh. “Kirk has always been a workaholic,” she said. “It’s just who he is. Well ... maybe you can come in the spring.”
“Maybe,” I said, “if he’ll let me.”
“It’s all right, Sweet Judy,” she crooned. “Don’t worry about it, and don’t be mad at your dad. We’ll work something out. Here, talk to Kamran.”
I heard the baby gurgling at the other end of the line. “Hi, Kamran. It’s Judy, your sister. Hi, baby.”
I felt stupid talking to a six-month-old who couldn’t even talk back.
“Oh, Judy, you should see him. He gets so excited when he hears your voice.”
I wondered if that was true, or if she was just saying it to make me feel better.
Later that night, I sat on the couch watching television and feeling grumpy.
“Do you want some popcorn?” Daddy asked. “I’ll make some if you do.”
That was a peace offering on his part.
I shook my head and said nothing.
“Okay, look, I’m sorry it’s not going to work out for you to go see your mom. I really can’t take off another week right now, and I can’t let you go by yourself.”
“You’re just a workaholic,” I said under my breath.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“What did you say?” He sat down on the couch beside me.
“Mama says you’re a workaholic,” I mumbled, knowing I shouldn’t have said it.
“Oh,” he said softly, running his hand through his hair. “Well, I know that’s what your mother thinks, but I hope that’s not what you think.”
I shrugged my shoulders.
“Judy, look at me,” he said, taking my chin in his hand. “I do work hard. And I’m proud of the work I do. I help people when they need it the most. I know your mom has never understood that, but I thought you did. And I always, always make time to spend with you. You know that, right?”
His eyes were fixed on mine, unwavering.
I sighed and said, “Yeah, Daddy. I know that.”
“Okay, good,” he said.
“I just wish we could go to California again.”
“We will, honey. Just not right now. Maybe this summer we can go.”
“But Kamran is growing up,” I said. “Mama says he’s getting bigger every day. And he’s sitting up now and rolling over. And I’m missing it all.”
“I’m sorry about that,” Daddy said. “But there’s not much I can do about it. I can’t make your mother move back to Indiana. I could never make her do anything she didn’t want to do. I don’t think anyone could.”
We sat in silence for a minute. Then he said, “I really am sorry, honey. I just can’t go right now.”
“It’s okay,” I said.
“So, do you want some popcorn?”
“Sure,” I said. “I’ll melt the butter.”
For Christmas, Daddy gave me a beautiful brown puppy with soft fur and long ears. I named him Rufus. Grandma and Grandpa gave me a new coat with a fur-lined hood. Mama sent me two albums—Vacation by the Go-Go’s and Crosby, Stills, and Nash’s Greatest Hits. The note she sent with them read, “I thought you’d like something fun, and the Go-Go’s are nothing but fun! And I wanted you to have some CSN to remember your mama, who loves you so much.”
I played the albums at Lee Ann’s house the day before New Year’s Eve while we ate tortilla chips with salsa and compared our Christmas gifts.
“Your mom is so cool,” she said. “My mother would never buy me albums. Or, if she did, they’d be totally lame.”
“Yeah,” I said. “She’s into music and all that. But still, I wish she was more like your mom. I wish she was ... here, you know?”
Lee Ann nodded, dipping a chip into salsa. “Maybe someday she’ll move back to Indiana,” she said.
“I don’t think so,” I said. “She seems pretty happy in California. Plus, Navid’s family is there. I don’t think he’d leave them.”
“It sucks that you didn’t get to go for Christmas.”
“Yeah,” I said. “But Daddy says maybe we’ll go this summer.”
“I wish I could go with you.”
“Maybe you can, if your parents buy your ticket.”
“They won’t,” she said, sighing. “They won’t ever let me do anything fun.”
Just then, Lee Ann’s mom knocked and opened the bedroom door. “Do you girls want some cocoa?” she asked.
“No, thanks,” we said in unison.
“Okay, well ... can you turn the music down a little bit? I can hear it all the way downstairs.”
Lee Ann sighed heavily and rolle
d her eyes at me as she turned the dial a tiny bit to the left.
“See what I mean?” she asked after her mother had closed the door again.
“Yeah,” I said. “But it’s nice she wanted to make us cocoa.”
Lee Ann just shook her head. “Sometimes I wish she’d just disappear,” she said. Then she stopped, her cheeks reddening. “I’m sorry, Judy. I didn’t mean that.”
“It’s okay,” I said. I knew she was just venting. Lee Ann loved her mom. I could see that, even if she couldn’t always.
“Want to come to my house?” I said. “We can play with Rufus.”
“Sure,” she said. “And your dad will let us play the records however loud we want.”
We walked back to my house, albums in hand and the rest of the chips in a plastic bag.
“Whose car is that?” Lee Ann asked.
A small brown Toyota was parked in the driveway. It sported a bumper sticker that read, “Nurses are angels in comfortable shoes.”
“I don’t know,” I said, opening the front door of the house.
“Oh, Judy, hi.” Daddy was sitting on the couch in the living room beside a woman I’d never seen before. Two wineglasses sat on the coffee table, a half-empty bottle of chardonnay between them.
“Hi,” I said, looking from him to the woman. Daddy had never had a woman visit before.
“This is Treva,” he said, gesturing to the woman. She smiled at me, a dazzling smile of red lips and white teeth.
“Hi, Judy,” she said, rising and extending her hand to me. “I’m so glad to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.”
I remembered Navid saying the same thing when he met me, and I thought the same thing I’d thought then. I’ve heard nothing about you.
“And this is Lee Ann,” Daddy said, smiling. “She’s been Judy’s best friend since kindergarten.”
“That’s great,” the woman said, smiling now at Lee Ann. “Old friends are the best friends. I’ve known my best friend since we were in first grade.”
She sat back down on the couch, still smiling at us. She was very pretty, with shoulder-length curly red hair, blue eyes, and freckles.
The Sometimes Daughter Page 17