Forbidden by Faith
Page 18
Dad looked up at him, but didn’t say a word.
“I know that this isn’t common practice in your culture, and it seems like we’re doing something wrong. But I wanted you to know that I love your daughter. I’m not playing around or wasting her time. I see a future for us. I’d marry her today if she would have me. We’ve talked about it, but Sara wants to wait. This is her taking it slow,” Ben assured him.
Dad looked weary and tired. He had found himself stuck in this battle of choices for too long. He was not an unreasonable man; he knew that the world had changed since he was young.
“I know that things are different now. You children don’t do things the way we did. I appreciate that you love my daughter; I really do. And I respect you for being here today even though you knew we wouldn’t be happy. That shows you’re a decent man.” He paused, taking a deep breath before he continued. “I’ve always trusted Sara and her decisions. I know she wouldn’t be making this move with you if you weren’t worthy of her. But it’s going to take us some time to get used to. My wife more than myself.” He turned toward the hallway, in the direction Mom had stormed off in, defeated.
I lay in bed, replaying that day in my mind. It had been two months since I’d had that conversation with my parents. A few weeks of battles followed, but, somehow, we’d managed to find our center again. My parents realized that I was an adult, twenty-eight years old. I was graduating from pharmacy school and this was how I’d chosen to start the next part of my life.
They also knew me well enough to know that life had changed me. I no longer depended on their guidance or felt the debilitating guilt of going against their wishes. For better or worse, I’d become stronger in making my own decisions. Standing in my way wouldn’t stop me—they’d only end up losing me. Reluctantly, they gave in. They began to try to get to know Ben.
I rolled out of bed and got ready for the big day. I threw on a simple, strapless navy blue dress and slid a gold chain around my neck. It held a small, blue eye charm, traditional in my culture to ward off the “evil eyes.” Mom had bought it for me and insisted I wear it today. My entire family was coming to my graduation and she was certain that someone would unintentionally jinx me.
The Iranian culture was full of superstitions, the “evil eye” being the most prominently recognized. The concept was being the victim of a curse on someone else’s behalf. Iranians tended to be secretive regarding their accomplishments or endeavors for fear that they would fall victim to these curses.
It was referred to as “Cheshm khordan,” which literally translated into being struck by the eye. The idea behind it was that, if someone’s heart longed for something you had, be it your job, your husband, your life, they would project a negative energy onto you, hence causing the curse and the cascade of bad luck to follow. Even if they loved you dearly, they wouldn’t be able to control their envy, leading to these misfortunes.
In order to combat the “evil eye,” we enlisted the help of anti-evil eye trinkets, usually in the form of a blue eye charm of sorts. In addition, we would burn esfand, a type of seed, to ward off the “evil eyes.” The seeds were held over the fire until they popped and began to smoke, and then the smoke was circled around the head and the house to rid everyone of the bad eyes.
When I came out of my room, I could already smell the smoke of the esfand burning. Mom hurried out of the kitchen with the carrier in hand the moment I stepped into the living room, where Dad and Nima were waiting. She quickly made circles around our heads while saying the traditional chant, then made a lap around the room and went back into the kitchen to put it all away. Once Mom felt she’d efficiently rid us of all the negativity, we headed over to the school. When we arrived, my family went to their seats while I went to staging.
Sandra was the first to spot me and squealed out my name. I laughed and made my way over to her. I was the last to arrive, in true Iranian style, always fashionably late. Ben stood amongst the crowd of our friends. He put his arm around my waist and pulled me into him, placing a gentle kiss on my lips. I smiled up against his mouth, goosebumps spreading across my skin at his touch. He held me close to his side until the ushers separated us by last name.
Once we were all lined up, the music started and we were directed to our seats up on stage. I spotted my family instantly, my mom and aunt frantically waving at me from a few rows back. My grandmother sat beside them, trying to seem as though she wasn’t proud of my big accomplishment. I tried to smile at her, knowing none of this was easy for any of us.
The graduation ceremony proceeded as usual, with a few opening words from the dean and speeches by the valedictorian and a guest speaker. Then, they began calling us up row by row. When my name was called, I looked out into the crowd and saw that both my parents were crying.
Along with the excitement of finishing school, there was an air of sadness to the moment. In the next few days, we’d all be going our separate ways. Sandra would be going back up north with her family. Thomas would be going back east.
We’d all promised to keep in touch and visit each other as much as we could, but we knew life would get complicated. Promises would fall by the wayside; time would take its toll on our relationships. The thought of losing them broke my heart. They’d become my second family.
When it was over, we stood up as they pronounced us official graduates. We threw our hats up into the air, cheering. A sea of burgundy and gold rained back down on us. We ran toward each other and spent the next few minutes embracing one another, with tears of joy streaming down our faces. Once we were finished, we reluctantly found our families. We were celebrating the following night before everyone headed home to get on with their lives. The emotional goodbyes, and heartfelt confessions, would have to wait.
I found my parents. They both threw their arms around me at the same time, Mom crying on my shoulder. When she finally let go, Nima hugged me tightly.
“I’m so proud of you,” he said, making me cry.
I finally made it to my friends. Leyla and Neda hugged me at the same time, adding their bouquets to my already overflowing arms. Neda looked at me apprehensively when she pulled away. I tilted my head to the side, trying to figure out the source of her discomfort. She slid her hand out of her purse and handed me a card.
“Maziar wanted me to give this to you. I wasn’t sure if it was okay, but he insisted,” she said unsteadily. She looked down, afraid she’d made the wrong choice by bringing it for me. I took the card from her.
“Thank you,” I said, trying to smile reassuringly. I could see the relief wash over her.
Maziar’s card proceeded to burn a hole in my hand as I took part in conversations with my family and friends. I wanted to drop all the flowers, run to a private nook, and tear open the envelope to see what he’d written inside. I was overwhelmed by guilt as I watched Ben make his way over to me. I shouldn’t care what Maziar had to say.
Ben approached us, his smile in full effect. He turned toward Dad and put out his hand.
“Mobarak basheh,” he said in his broken, rehearsed Farsi.
My parents stared at him, not registering it at first. Then, my dad smiled, knowing Ben had put another olive branch in their court.
“Merci,” Mom said. She smiled at me, but the corners didn’t reach her eyes. She was trying.
Ben’s family walked over to us then, and the parents proceeded to congratulate each other. We had plans to go out to lunch with my family, to celebrate after the graduation. Mom leaned in and whispered something to Dad, who then turned toward Ben and his family.
“We’re going to get some lunch. Would you like to join us?” he asked.
Ben was thrown back by the offer and didn’t respond immediately. June stepped in, having been filled in on my parents’ reluctance toward the new move.
“We would love to,” she replied.
Once at the restaurant, Maziar’s card had faded into the background, locked away in my purse. We all took our seats, Ben sandwiched between Le
yla and me in an attempt to somehow protect him from my grandmother. She’d been eyeing him from the moment we got there. Ben ignored her obvious judgments, still making an effort to make conversation with her. I felt bad for him, knowing that his attempts were falling on deaf ears. Mamanbozorg was deeply rooted in her ways and no amount of boyish charm was going to change that. He tried anyway.
His mom and stepdad sat at one end of the table with my parents. The dads spoke about work; the moms about family. At one point I overheard June insist that my parents come to Minnesota for a visit. Mom smiled politely and thanked her for the offer. Even though she didn’t accept the invitation, she didn’t outright refuse it, either‒another attempt to evolve on her behalf. All in all, the meal went as well as I could have hoped for.
On the drive home, we all sat in silence for a while. I was staring out the window at the houses flashing by when Mom spoke.
“Ben’s parents seem like nice people,” she said.
“They are,” I responded as I felt a glimmer of hope begin to form in my chest.
Later that evening, I was lying on my bed reading when I heard my phone. As I grabbed my purse to pull it out, Maziar’s card slid onto the comforter. I looked at it, surprised; I’d forgotten I had it. My phone rang again with a second message. Both were from Ben. I suddenly felt guilty about not having told him about the card.
9:45 Good night, doll.
* * *
9:46 Love you.
I quickly typed a response, turning my attention back to the light blue envelope that sat taunting me. I looked at it reluctantly, afraid to reach out and touch it, as if it would find a way to sear my heart and burn down my defenses. As I contemplated shredding it and throwing it away, a light knock came from the door. I quickly hid it under my pillow, narrowly avoiding its discovery as Dad came in.
“We’re about to put a movie on. Do you want to come watch with us?” he asked.
“Sure,” I replied. When I realized he was waiting for me, I slid off the bed and followed him into the living room, leaving the card in its hiding spot.
The movie ended close to midnight. I was tired and exhausted from the day’s events as I dragged myself back to my room. I climbed into bed and lay there for a few moments, wondering if I should deal with Maziar’s card in the morning. When I realized I wouldn’t be able to, wondering what he’d written, I reached under my pillow and pulled it out. As I slowly tore open the envelope, my fingers tingled with apprehension against the paper.
The cover had a light gray graduation hat, with pastel confetti surrounding it. It had CONGRATULATIONS written along the top in bold, black letters. I held my breath as I opened the flap. The entire blank side was filled in with Masseur’s writing.
Dearest Sara,
* * *
Congratulations on finishing pharmacy school! I’m so very proud of you, but I always knew you could do it. Enjoy your day; you deserve it. This isn’t how I expected to spend your graduation, alone at home, thinking of where you are and who you’re celebrating it with. But then again, a lot of things have come and gone that didn’t go how I’d imagined years ago when I first fell in love with you. I know we decided a long time ago to walk away, but I want you to know that not a day goes by that I don’t think of you. Not a moment passes when I don’t wish things could have been different between us.
* * *
Loving you always,
* * *
Maziar
I stared at the words in front of me, unsure how I was supposed to feel. I had tried not to think about Maziar for the past two years. I’d convinced myself that we needed to move on and forced myself to do so. I tried my best to wipe him from my memory, not allowing myself a moment of remorse. I knew I needed a clean break, to quit him cold like an addict would. Strangely, a heaviness sat deep in my chest, the sadness of it both heartbreaking and shocking. I suddenly wished he’d never sent me the card.
I ran my fingers over the letters on the paper. I could feel the impressions left by the force of his pen. He’d been holding this card a few hours earlier, and I imagined him sitting at his desk writing. I didn’t allow my thoughts to linger long, pushing Maziar back into the box I hid in the far corners of my mind, and turning the key. I slid the card back into its envelope and placed it in the nightstand drawer. I curled up under my comforter, trying to ignore the pain in my chest. Sleep came quickly and I gladly surrendered to it. Although I desperately tried to cling to thoughts of Ben, I dreamed of Maziar that night instead.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
We were meeting at Firefly for dinner and drinks to celebrate our graduation and say our final goodbyes. Everyone was heading home the next day. It was a warm, comfortable night in June. I sat in front of Leyla’s house with the windows down, enjoying the breeze as I waited for her.
Dreams from the night before had played in my head all day, making me agitated and uneasy. In the name of nostalgia, I had taken Maziar’s necklace out of my jewelry box and slipped it into my purse. I rolled it between my fingers now, wondering why I’d brought it. The cool, familiar touch of the pendant felt comforting even though it shouldn’t. I turned it over and stared at our names engraved on the back. The sadness that had started from his card rushed through my chest. I held the heart for a few more moments as if it were a talisman, connecting me to a past I’d long forgotten. I quickly put it back in its hiding place when I saw Leyla coming.
My friends were waiting outside when we pulled up to park. From the street side, the bar was hidden behind a thick cover of vines. All that could be seen was the dark brown steel door of its entrance. It reminded me of a secret passageway.
Once inside, the first room resembled a library with a bar nestled in the far corner. There were book lined shelves and dim red lights that quietly set the room aglow. Beyond the library, the bar opened up into a large seating area with the open sky as its ceiling. There was a big cement fireplace placed in the center of the space and twinkle lights strung across the top, creating a cover of glitter overhead.
We immediately ordered a round of drinks when our table became available. We had one goal in mind for the evening, and that was to get intoxicated. Leyla was my designated driver, allowing me to party without any inhibitions. We drank, we laughed, and at some point Sandra began to cry. There was a DJ spinning music on the upper deck of the building, so we quickly shut her down by dragging her onto the dance floor.
I was covered in the warmth of two cosmos, the third following on their heels, perched clumsily in my hand as I spun around in circles. Without notice, the DJ changed the music and the familiar beats of hip-hop invaded the night.
I stopped spinning, suddenly aware of Ben’s eyes on me. He stood a few feet away, the intensity like icicles forming in his blue eyes. The crowd faded as he smiled at me. Before I knew it, Ben stood towering over me with hunger in his eyes.
Our bodies started moving to the music, fitting together like pieces of a puzzle. I could feel his chest up against mine. The warmth of his body radiated through his shirt, grabbing hold of me. I felt myself melt into the familiarity and comfort of him.
We moved against each other with a force that mimicked a lovers’ quarrel as the desire escalated between us. I had to resist the urge to steal him away to the bathroom, pushing him up against a stall door. We didn’t notice when the song ended, still staring into each other’s eyes, silently speaking with our bodies. Sandra placed her hand on my arm and broke us out of our trance.
“Get a room,” she said teasingly.
When I got to the table and sat down, I felt my purse vibrate up against the chair. I had missed five calls from Neda and two messages. I didn’t think much of it at first, thinking maybe she was drinking and had lost track of how many times she’d called.
11:40 Sara, call me as soon as you get this.
* * *
11:45 Sara, I keep trying to call you but you’re not picking up. You NEED to call me as soon as you get this. It’s an EMERGENCY!!!!
“Sara, oh, thank God you…me, you need…come to the…Maziar…accident!”
Her phone was breaking up and she was crying. I could barely make out what she was saying, but I heard the two most devastating words: Maziar and accident. I suddenly stood up, knocking over a few empty glasses. They crashed to the floor, interrupting the conversation at the table. Everyone turned to look at me. Leyla was beside me in seconds. Ben was moments behind her. I had one hand against my phone and the other on my left ear, trying to mute out the noises of the restaurant.
“What? What’s happened? Neda, I can’t hear you. Please slow down. Where are you?” I asked, desperately.
Then, the line disconnected. I moved the phone away from my ear and stared at it as if I couldn’t figure out what it was. The world was spinning, and my thoughts felt like they were drowning in a puddle of mud. What was happening?
“What is it?” Leyla asked, when I didn’t offer an explanation.
“It was Neda. She was crying. Her phone isn’t working,” I said, lost.
“Could you make out anything she said?” Leyla replied, trying to urge me forward.
“I think she said Maziar was in a bad accident. She told me to come to the hospital.”
Leyla paled, turning toward Ben, who was standing behind her. He thought she was looking for help, but she was just foreseeing the near future, the colossal mess that was about to unfold. I could see her putting the pieces together in her mind. He stepped in and grabbed my arm, helping me out of the chair.
“Let’s go outside. It’s quieter and maybe Neda is somewhere with better reception now,” he directed, guiding me along behind him. Leyla followed.