There were only two weeks left until the new semester began and I was running out of time. I needed to start packing and doing it in secret would be impossible. I needed to face the dreaded conversation soon.
I decided I would broach the topic that coming Friday night at our family dinner. I had already spoken to my brother weeks before, so he knew my plans.
“You should totally move out. It just makes sense,” Nima said.
As it was, there were some nights I would stay at school late, studying. By the time I made the drive, I would get home well past midnight, only to wake up and do it all over again in the morning. That was the angle I was going to take with my parents. I was glad my brother was on board. I would need him in my corner once Mom exploded with rage.
Friday showed up faster than I had wanted it to. Mom had made khoresht bademjoon, eggplant stew, a popular Iranian dish that was poured over white rice. It was my favorite. I was sure the woman had some sort of sixth sense. I was convinced she had made it in an attempt to guilt me out of moving. Nima and I exchanged glances as the same thought crossed both our minds. He smirked while I panicked.
Dad came in from the den where he’d been watching television. I helped Mom bring in the last of the food and we all gathered around the table. Dad started in on his usual questions of how we were and what was going on with school and so on. I sat in my seat, sick to my stomach with nerves, trying to gather the courage to tell them what I had planned. Nima looked over at my horrified expression and thought he would help me out.
In between big spoonfuls of khoresht, he blurted out, “Sara is planning on moving to downtown in two weeks.”
I almost spit out my food, caught between coughing and choking. Mom turned on me with an angry fierceness in her eyes. Dad saw this and just shook his head, like he’d had enough of my Friday night outbursts of life-changing information.
“What is he talking about, Sara?” Mom asked.
I took a sip of water from the glass she’d placed in front of me earlier, stalling. My throat felt morbidly dry.
“Well, I’m about to start my second year, and my schedule is going to get busier. The commute is killing me, Maman. I just thought if I was living closer to school, I could use that time for studying instead of wasting it in my car.”
“She’s right, Mom,” Nima interjected. “It’s a far drive to school from here. Sometimes she isn’t even home until past midnight.”
I gave my brother a look of gratitude for having my back. Mom looked at Nima like she was about to say something, but then decided not to. Dad jumped in, not giving her any time to rethink her silence.
“Where do you plan on living, Sara?” he asked.
He was practical when making decisions. He wanted to know all the details before making up his mind. Mom was quite the opposite; she took little time to think things through but rather made instant decisions based on her current emotions.
“Sandra’s roommate just graduated and moved out. She has an extra bedroom now, so I thought I’d move in there,” I said.
“You’re just trying to move out to be closer to that boy,” Mom threw in angrily.
I looked at her, the apprehension I felt moments ago quickly replaced by my own anger. I was so sick of her constant intrusion on my life, always judging my decisions. I was itching to tell her off. Nima reached out placing his hand on my shoulder to calm me down. Nothing good would come of losing my temper.
“No, it’s not because I want to live closer to that boy,” I replied, not breaking eye contact with her. “Just in case you forgot, that boy has a name. It’s Ben. He’s a really nice guy and you’re being unfair. I’m twenty-five years old. I should be able to date whoever I want. I wish you guys would understand that. But my moving has nothing to do with him and everything to do with school.” With that, I got up and walked away. I couldn’t be around my mom any longer. I was tired of her “plans for me” and had no interest in hearing about how I was messing them up for her.
I threw myself down on my bed and covered my eyes. I could hear the heated discussion still going on at the table. I couldn’t make out all the words, but I could hear the rise and fall of their voices. My brother was coming to my defense. Nima was the level-headed one whose opinions were always respected by my parents. Where I was erratic and emotional, he was calm and rational. I could hear him reasoning with Dad. I was angry and didn’t want to hear any more of their conversation, so I threw on my headphones.
“Burning House” by Cam came on. I’d listened to it at least a hundred times when Maziar and I had just broken up. Almost six months later, it still made me want to cry. We were stuck in a burning house even before we began our relationship and it seemed like we spent the entire time struggling to get ourselves out before we burned along with it. In the end, we were consumed by the flames, despite our battle to survive.
I lay on my bed, quietly staring at the ceiling, wondering if I’d ever fully get over him. Would I ever be able to remember our relationship as what used to be and not what could have been? I wasn’t sure. I’d moved on, but I couldn’t quite break free; there was always some invisible rope anchoring me to him despite my protests.
I felt like a horrible person as I lay thinking of Maziar while I was dating Ben. It wasn’t fair; I knew that much. But my life couldn’t stay frozen any longer. I had made my decision. I was moving on. I just needed to figure out how to get my feelings under control. I constantly felt confused and it was exhausting.
As I was wrapped up in my emotional maze, headphones on, I missed the soft knock on the door. I saw it slowly open, catching my attention. I pulled the headphones off as Dad walked in.
He sat down next to me on the bed. I scooted up against the pillows so I was facing him. He put his hand on my leg and looked at me with the warm, strong eyes I was used to seeing from Dad. He always had a way of making me feel safe. I never felt afraid that I would ever disappoint him, even if he was angry with me. It was just a matter of us not seeing eye to eye and not that I was failing him.
Mom, on the other hand, always made me feel inadequate, like I was falling short by not doing things exactly as she wanted. Maybe it was a mother-daughter thing, or a Persian mother thing, but it resulted in guilt and anxiety, both of which I had no interest in feeling.
“Do you really want to move out? You would be on your own. Your mom wouldn’t be there to help cook or clean for you. Can you do it all, especially while you’re in school?” Dad asked.
“Yes,” I said, confidently.
He looked at me, his eyes glossing over as if he was no longer seeing me. It felt like he’d taken a trip back in time. After a few moments, he leaned in and kissed my forehead.
“Okay,” was all he said.
I sat staring at the door he’d just walked out of, wondering if my parents had actually given me permission to move out. A few minutes later, Nima came in, grinning, confirming that I had indeed not imagined things.
I was moving in two weeks.
Mom gave me the best silent treatment she had in her arsenal for the following week as she watched Dad, Nima and me pack up my things. I could see how difficult this was for her but I couldn’t let it sway me. I stood my ground.
The day of moving had finally arrived. My brother helped my dad pack up the car and we headed downtown. Mom stayed behind with the lame excuse of cleaning but I could see her wiping her tears away as we drove out of sight. Although we weren’t able to find common ground lately, I knew she looked at me as her confidante. Now I was leaving her behind, to fend for herself among the savages.
Once we got to the apartment, my friends were waiting to help move me in. Dad greeted Ben cordially but remained distant. Ben pretended not to notice, continuing to put his best foot forward.
With so many people the process took only two hours, the stairs being the only obstacle slowing us down. After all my boxes were in and Dad had put together my bed frame, I walked my family downstairs so they could head home.
I stood there with a heavy heart, knowing I’d taken another step further away from them. I hadn’t thought it would be so difficult for me to grow up. Despite our conflicts, I loved and depended on them. They were my rock, the single constant force in my life. I was, in a way, saying goodbye to that. I was taking the next step in being an adult, claiming my independence.
I started to cry as soon as my dad hugged me. He held me for a few moments while my tears wet his shoulder. He leaned back so he could see my face and wiped them away with his big, rugged hands, the same hands that had picked me up and cleaned off bruises so many times as I was growing up.
“This isn’t goodbye, eshgham. This is just see you later.”
“I know,” I said in between tiny sobs.
“We are only a short drive away, and you can come home any time you feel like you need to. Dry your tears now and go back upstairs. It’s time to start this beautiful new adventure,” he said.
He pulled away from me then, standing aside so my brother could say goodbye. I wanted to reach out and grab him, wrap my arms around his neck like I did when I was little. I wanted to beg him to take me home again. But I didn’t.
Nima came in next, wrapping me in his strong arms. He was my person, my best friend since the beginning of time. I feared being away from him the most.
“Call me. I’m a phone call away,” he said as he squeezed me tighter. “You’re going to do great, I promise,” he whispered into my ear, and then kissed my cheek.
“Pick up the phone when I call you,” I begged.
“I will,” he said, smiling reassuringly.
I stood on the curb and watched as they drove away. I remained there long after they were gone, holding onto my sadness. The distance would be difficult for me.
Ben came up behind me, placing his hand around my waist and startling me out of my thoughts.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered in my ear.
I smiled, leaning into his chest so he could hold me tighter. I stood on my tiptoes, turning to kiss him. He returned my kiss, slow and patient, mirroring the depth of his feelings for me. I welcomed it, losing myself for a moment.
Everyone stayed to help me unpack and put my stuff away. Then, they all left to grab dinner. Ben and I remained behind. He went to go get us pizza while I finished up the last few things. He returned twenty minutes later with food and a bottle of wine. We pulled up one of the boxes that had not yet been opened and created a little dining table, eating amongst a castle of bubble wrap.
“I’m really excited that you’re here,” he said, tapping his plastic cup of wine against mine.
“Thanks,” I replied, “I’m happy too. A little nervous, but happy.”
Once we’d done all we could for the night, we both crawled onto my bed and collapsed on the covers, too tired to pull them aside and climb in. After a few minutes, I opened my eyes and glanced at Ben. He was staring up at the ceiling, off in a faraway land of daydreams. I closed the space between us, grabbing his hand in mine. I started to slowly play with his fingers.
He turned onto his side, facing me. I matched his movement. We stared at each other, neither of us speaking. There was a passion in Ben’s eyes that was unfamiliar and new, one that my body responded to with understanding. I scooted over the few inches left between us and slipped my arm around his neck. I brought his head down toward mine and kissed him in the dim glow of the streetlights outside my window.
He gently placed his hand on my waist, playing with the frayed edges of my T-shirt. Hesitantly, he slipped it beneath the fabric, touching my skin. He drew seductive patterns with his fingers, making an urge swell deep inside me. His need was fierce and tangible, like I could reach into the air surrounding us and grab onto it. He was a gentleman, though, and despite the restraint it took on his part, he would not be the one to take the lead in this dance. He held his desire at bay, waiting for my move.
I was struggling between my physical need for him and my emotional unpreparedness of having sex with someone new. The heat between my legs urged me to move forward but my heart sent warning flares up all around me. Despite the alarms, I couldn’t resist touching him. I pushed my body tightly up against his, pulling his shirt over his head. Our hands began exploring each other’s bodies, our lips leaving hot trails of lust all over each other’s skin.
It was apparent where this dance would lead, and my mind screamed louder that I wasn’t ready. I pulled away from Ben, disconnecting the surge of power between us. He stared at me, startled and confused, the rejection stinging like a slap in the face. I gently pushed him onto his back and straddled him. Rejection was quickly replaced by intrigue, the direction I’d hoped it would take us.
I stared at him, slowly unbuttoning his pants, his eyes widening with anticipation. I leaned over, playfully placing kisses on his lower stomach. He slightly withered under my touch, trying to maintain his composure.
I gently slipped him inside my mouth. He let out a moan and exhaled. I could feel his pleasure hardening with each stroke, and when he couldn’t take it any longer, he indulged in the explosion that followed. His body relaxed into the mattress, and I lay back, content that I had convincingly avoided ruining another moment.
Later that night, as I lay with my head on his chest, he twisted my curls between his fingers, lulling me into a peaceful sleep. He told me stories of when he was younger. I felt a calmness envelop me, one that I hadn’t felt in months. I fell asleep somewhere in the story of Ben and Josh taking his stepdad’s car out for a joyride.
I dreamed of the sun and the beach that night, of the waves of the ocean. And sitting beside me was Ben. Maziar was nowhere to be found.
Chapter Nineteen
The second school year brought with it the chaotic rhythm of lectures and studying. Time felt like it was moving faster than it should. Our first set of midterms had already arrived, taking place the week before Thanksgiving break. Ben was planning a trip home for the holidays, and had mentioned that he wanted me to join him in Minnesota. This was a serious step in our relationship, and although I was apprehensive about taking it, I could appreciate that he was excited for me to meet his family.
Josh and Sandra had been talking since my birthday. He’d come to visit her a few times since then. When they were together, he couldn’t take his eyes off her, and their two bodies danced around each other like they were meant to occupy the same space in the universe. Josh had asked Sandra to join him for Thanksgiving as well. She’d already said yes.
I knew my parents wouldn’t agree to the trip. The struggle between us had continued, only worsening as my relationship with Ben deepened. Now that I had moved out, Mom felt the loss of her control even more, and it angered her. I’d contemplated lying as I’d done so many times before, but the idea of getting on an airplane without telling them where I was going felt dangerous. There were so many possibilities that could go wrong. I didn’t want to risk it.
My midterms had ended on Tuesday and I went straight home afterward. It was the first weekend in over a month that I had actually spent with my family. My workload at school had become tedious and finding time to make the trek to Encino was proving to be more difficult than I’d anticipated. Also, the constant tension that could be felt in the confines of their walls had become progressively less appealing week after week.
Mom’s silent treatment had weakened, but when we spoke, I was still faced with curt responses and constant disapproval. I no longer discussed my relationship with her, and it drove her mad. I missed the closeness we’d had, but I couldn’t allow her to control me with the same prejudices I’d faced with Maziar’s family. I’d drawn a line in the sand and I wasn’t crossing it for anyone, Mom included.
When I walked through the door an hour later, I could hear her bustling around in the kitchen. Dad was sitting on the couch, deep within one of his books. I glanced over at him and realized that he had aged. His hair had grayed around the temples and was thinning on top. He had prominent wrinkles around his eyes now t
hat crinkled even more as he looked up and smiled at me. I felt a deep sadness at the thought of my parents’ mortality, something I didn’t think of often, but had started to notice more frequently.
I went over to him and threw my arms around his neck. I kissed his cheeks over and over as if he were the child. He stood up and hugged me back, swaying back and forth when I didn’t let go. We danced to the music of our heartbeats, in time with the tapping of his foot, around the living room like we used to do when I was little. It didn’t matter how old I was–‒I always looked at Dad through the eyes of someone looking at her hero. There was nothing I didn’t think he could do or situation I didn’t think he could fix.
I knew he didn’t share the same view as Mom regarding Ben, but he was stuck in an impossible situation between the two of us. Even if he could see past the fact that Ben wasn’t Iranian, she wouldn’t let him.
He squeezed me a little tighter and kissed my head as I snuggled up to him. He finally let go of me and sat back down on the couch, shooing me into the kitchen to help Mom with lunch so he could get back to his “studying.” I took one last look at him reading, letting the warmth of his love fill me with the strength I needed for the discussion I was about to embark on. I walked into the kitchen.
Mom was crying from the onions she’d grated into the red mixing bowl in front of her. She was making kotlet, small oval-shaped patties, that she was frying in the large oiled skillet beside her. I automatically walked over to the pile of tomatoes and lettuce next to the sink and started to run them under the faucet. Once they were washed, I started slicing the tomatoes and arranging them on the large white ceramic platter sitting on the counter. I moved on to the lettuce next and did the same, creating a festive dish of reds and greens that reminded me of Christmas.
Forbidden by Faith Page 10