Forbidden by Faith

by Negeen Papehn

  She turned toward the double doors as they slid open, alerting her to my arrival. She smiled at me, as if we hadn’t spent the past few years as mortal enemies. I felt a sudden surge of hatred course through my veins at her audacity, brushing our history aside as she did. But I swallowed it down, pushing it to the furthest corners of my mind where I’d started a collection of all the things I would deal with later.

  “Hi,” she said, more timidly than I’d expected.

  “Hi.”

  “I was thinking we could walk down the street to the sushi restaurant on the corner? I remember Maziar telling me that you loved that place. Is that okay?”

  “Yeah, that’s fine. It’s good,” I said, wondering what conversation would have prompted that information to be exchanged. I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to act around her. This whole thing felt bizarre.

  “I know things haven’t been great between us,” she said, as we walked toward the restaurant.

  I just looked at her, raising an eyebrow.

  “Okay, so I was a royal bitch to you, I know that. I take responsibility for all of it.”

  She glanced down at the sidewalk like a child that had been reprimanded. This all felt so foreign to me, Bita open with her feelings, exuding a new-found vulnerability. I didn’t know what to do with her.

  Once inside the restaurant, she remained quiet until we were seated. She asked the hostess to put us in the back corner of the room to create some semblance of privacy. When we finally sat down, she took a deep breath. Her anxiety surrounded her like a heavy cloak.

  “I know you’re wondering why I asked you here today.” She paused, gathering her thoughts before she spoke again. “I haven’t talked to Maziar for over two months now, and I really miss my brother. I know that shouldn’t matter to you, but I don’t know what to do. I was hoping you might help me. I’ve tried calling and texting, but he never responds. I’ve showed up at his work a few times, but he refuses to see me, having his secretary tell me to leave.”

  She looked down at the table, twisting the chopsticks between her fingers. I could see the pain etched across her face, could feel the sense of loss consuming her. She didn’t look like the powerful serpent I had experience so many times before, but instead like a lost, scared little girl. Despite my better judgment, I actually started to feel sorry for her, forgetting for a second all the horrible things she’d done to me. But memories like those are never too far behind.

  “Why should I help you? You and your mom decided I wasn’t good enough and did everything you could to break Maziar and me up. You didn’t even care what that did to us. Now you want me to feel sorry for you because your brother won’t talk to you, but you never felt bad for me.”

  My voice had risen with emotion, winning the attention of a few patrons sitting nearby.

  Instead of lashing back at me, Bita sat there staring at her hands, filled with what appeared to be remorse.

  “You’re right,” she said, finally. “You have every right to hate my family. If I were you, I know I would. I don’t know what to say other than that I’m sorry. I truly am, Sara, for how everything happened and how that hurt you. We were wrong. I didn’t come here today thinking I could make you change your mind about me in an hour. But I’m really not as horrible as I acted. If there was a way to take it all back and start over, I would.”

  I sat across from Maziar’s sister, realizing she was just a girl, broken and deflated by the loss of someone she loved. It didn’t matter in what capacity the love was felt, the loss of it could destroy you either way. Their relationship was fractured, and she was asking me to help fix it somehow because she’d run out of options.

  I could feel the exhaustion down to my bones. I was tired of this struggle, tired of hating, and weary from always being afraid. I wanted the animosity to end. I had felt hope once, that maybe we could all find a way to be in Maziar’s life together. If that was possible, wasn’t I obligated out of love to help piece it all back together for him?

  I was fearful, though, that if I decided to help his sister, I would live to regret it. I was afraid that I’d go out on a limb, orchestrating a reconciliation, and once he was back in their grasp they would snatch him away from me again.

  Bita sat there staring at me, the inkling of hope mingled with the fear and worry that had taken over her features. She’d come here unsure of my reaction, yet she desperately needed my help and was willing to take the risk of being the fool.

  “I don’t know if I can help you,” I said finally. She exhaled, having been holding her breath with hopes of my compliance. “He’s really mad at you all. I don’t know if my talking to him would even make a difference. I’m not sure what it is exactly that you think I can do.”

  The spark of hope reignited in her eyes as my words settled on her. I hadn’t refused to help her as she was sure I would. I was merely telling her I wasn’t sure how I could help her, which meant I might actually be willing to try.

  “I was just hoping you could talk to him for me. To tell him how sorry I am about everything. If he would just talk to me, I know we could fix this.” She looked at me with eager puppy eyes, waiting for my consent to her plan.

  “I’ll talk to him. I would’ve told him that you came to see me anyway. We don’t keep things from each other.” She sat perched on the edge of her seat waiting for me to continue. “But how do I know you won’t go back to the way things used to be the minute you and your brother are fine again? I’m sorry, but I don’t trust any of you,” I said cautiously.

  “I guess you can’t know that,” she said quietly. “I can tell you that I’ll never go there again, that I just want my brother to be happy. I’ve realized that means being with you. I could tell you that I truly never thought you were a bad person or that you weren’t good enough for him, that everything that happened was stupid and unnecessary. My family, myself included, unfairly judged you. I could promise you that if you help me fix things with my brother, I’ll have your back forever. I could say I’m sorry a million times.” She paused, and then, with a consideration I’d never seen in her, she said, “I could tell you all kinds of things that are true, Sara, but in the end you’d have to make the decision to trust me.”

  I didn’t know it then, as I sat across from Maziar’s sister, struggling with my decision to love or hate, to help or hurt, that this moment would define the person I would become. I didn’t know that, when I decided to help her, not only did I start to learn the power of forgiveness, but that Bita would learn her own lessons too. She would teach me that people could find the strength within them to change if they wanted to.

  “I’ll talk to him.”

  The rest of my shift dragged on like I was running up a hill in heavy boots, thick with layers of mud. I must have glanced at the clock a million times, trying to will it to move faster. I couldn’t take the waiting. I wanted to get the conversation with Maziar over with and deal with the inevitable explosion that was sure to follow. I was hoping that after the initial anger had settled, he’d realize I was actually trying to help him rather than break his heart.

  I bounced around the pharmacy like I’d bathed in a pool of caffeine, counting down the minutes till my relief showed up. When she walked through the door, I almost flew to my car.

  I called Mom from the car and updated her on what had happened. She was as shocked as I’d been that Bita would have thought to turn to me for help. She agreed, though, that if I could help mend their relationship, then I should at least try.

  When I got to his apartment, I stayed in the car, too terrified to move. I frantically grasped at my thoughts, trying to come up with the best way to tell him about his sister. I eventually forced myself to get out, trying to convince myself everything would be fine. When I opened the front door and realized he wasn’t home, I breathed in a sigh of relief.

  I sent him a text to see when he’d be arriving, so I could be ready. He’d gotten caught up on a project and would be at work for another hour. I decided t
o start on dinner to keep myself busy. Food and a bottle of wine could help take the edge off of our heavy conversation.

  When Maziar finally walked through the door, I was busy chopping vegetables for a salad and stirring the pasta sauce on the stove, singing to myself. I was startled when I turned to find him leaning against the counter, watching me. I hadn’t heard him come in.

  He came up behind me and put his arms around my waist, losing himself in the crook of my neck as he kissed the tender skin below my ear. I felt the electricity course through my body at his contact.

  “Go change. Dinner will be ready in ten minutes,” I said.

  A few minutes later I heard the shower go on and was tempted to sneak in with him. I thought a quickie might help ease the tension of the coming conversation. I decided, though, that it would be best to talk first, pulling the sex card out afterward to help rectify the damage.

  I giggled at myself, thinking how women frequently viewed sex as a tool to relieve conflict in so many situations with their significant others. The usefulness of it was lost on men, as they viewed it just as pleasure. Simple little birds, I thought, as I smirked silently to myself in the kitchen.

  Maziar walked in just as I finished setting the table. He took the bottle of wine off the counter and poured us each a glass. He brought them over as he sat down, waiting for me to join him.

  My nerves were on overdrive and I was afraid my movements looked jerky and spastic. I could feel tingling at the base of my neck from the knots that had formed in my shoulders. I tried to discreetly roll them out when he wasn’t looking. I put on my best smile as I approached the table, trying to appear normal, but Maziar was looking at me. His head was tilted to the side and his eyes were squinted in thought. I knew I’d been caught.

  “Are you okay?” he asked skeptically.

  I wanted to curse at my lack of acting skills. Only a few minutes in, and I’d already been discovered. He knew something was wrong. I thought about trying to deny it but decided otherwise. Now was as good a time as any to get this over with.

  “Bita came to see me at work today,” I blurted out.

  He shifted in his seat at the mention of her name.

  “What did she want?” he asked, before I had a chance to continue.

  I could see the rigid look in his eyes, challenging me to betray him. I hadn’t even started and he was already pissed. My right hand rested on the stem of my wine glass, shaking slightly from the tension. I took a long sip, trying to calm my own nerves. I started to realize that I might not make it through this conversation in one piece if the anger in Maziar’s eyes was any indication.

  “She came to see me about you,” I said, struggling to keep my tone even.

  “Obviously. I didn’t think she came to take you out to lunch so you could be the sister she’s always wished for,” he said, each word drenched in his attitude.

  I looked at him, shocked at his tone and irritated that he was already directing his anger at me even though I’d only said ten words.

  “What is up with the attitude?” I asked. “Why are you so mad right now? I haven’t done anything. She came to me. I didn’t go looking for her.”

  I could see his anger dissipate as he looked at me across the table, replaced by a deeper sadness that lay hidden behind his rage. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

  “I’m sorry. You’re right. I’m not mad at you. I’m angry at them. The mention of their names puts me on edge. Don’t be upset.”

  “I’m not. I just don’t want you mad at me!” I said, frustrated.

  He reached across the table and took my free hand, the other one still clenching the wine glass.

  “I’m sorry. Go ahead. Tell me what she said.”

  I gathered my courage and told him about the afternoon, leaving no details unturned. I quoted his sister as best I could, as I described her distress in words that painted a picture, hoping it would appeal to his softer side. I could see the image taking shape in his mind as he leaned back in his chair, listening.

  “She misses you. She wanted me to make sure you know how sorry she is.”

  As I watched him struggle with my words, I witnessed the walls he’d built around himself slowly fall apart, leaving only his wounded heart exposed. My own heart clenched with his pain, knowing they’d broken him in ways they weren’t even aware of. They were so consumed with their own feelings that they’d failed to realize they’d pulled the foundation out from beneath him. All for falling in love with me.

  “Why did she come to see you?” he finally asked, as if he’d just realized it didn’t make any sense.

  “She was hoping I could convince you to talk to her,” I said.

  He spun the wine glass between his fingers, staring at the swirling red liquid. I sat quietly, waiting. When he looked up at me, his eyes were filled with tears, and the rawness of his emotions felt like daggers shooting through my chest. I wanted to grab him, hold him, tell him I loved him enough to fill the voids they’d left behind.

  “I don’t know what to do,” he said innocently.

  I could understand his weariness; he was unsure which direction he should go. It made sense that he would want to mend his relationship with his family, but that he’d be apprehensive because of the effect they could have on us. Unable to stand another minute without touching him, I stood up and took the seat to his right. I reached out and grabbed his hand, bringing it up to my mouth, gently kissing his palm.

  “I know, baby.”

  He held onto my fingers firmly, always worried I would flutter away if he didn’t grab on tight. I reached out with my other hand and placed it on his cheek. He leaned into it, a tear escaping his eye and falling onto my fingertips. He lost his resolve then, and for the first time in years, I saw Maziar come undone. Unable to hang on to his emotions any longer, he hung his head and let the tears fall onto the floor as he quietly sobbed, the pain escaping from his broken heart.

  I found strength where he couldn’t, pulled him close to me, folding him into my arms. I shushed him and swayed, as if he were a child I was calming. He didn’t stay vulnerable and fragile for very long, but it gave him relief, lifted a weight off his chest that I hadn’t realized was causing him to buckle. When he looked up at me, wiping his eyes, he was smiling.

  “I love you,” he said, leaning in to kiss me. He wasn’t insecure or wounded that I’d just seen him cry. Instead, he seemed relieved and light.

  “I love you too.”

  “So what do you think I should do?” he asked, as he leaned back in his chair.

  “I’ve never seen Bita the way she was today. She seemed really sad that she hadn’t talked to you. She actually seemed kind of lost without you. I’m not sure exactly what to make of her, but my gut tells me she was sincere. If it were me, and it were Nima, I’d talk to him,” I said truthfully.

  “Yeah, but your brother is different. He would never do the things Bita did,” he countered.

  “Maybe, but she’s still your sister. And even if you’re mad, you still love her. It obviously isn’t easy to stop talking to your family. I know you act like you don’t care, but who do you think you’re fooling?”

  “You mean I’m not as good an actor as I thought I was?” he asked, smiling.

  “No, you’re not.” I laughed. “Besides, what are you afraid of? It’s just a conversation with your sister.”

  “Is it, though? Nothing is that simple with them.”

  “True, but what’s the worst that can happen?” I asked.

  “They could cause problems for us again,” he replied glumly.

  “Okay, but they can’t hurt us anymore, right?” I tried to exude more confidence into my words than I actually felt.

  I was afraid of the same thing. I was terrified I would lose everything we’d built in the past few months and find myself broken and crippled from the loss of it. But Maziar didn’t need to feel my apprehension or worry about my feelings. He needed me to be a pillar in his storm and tell him t
hat everything would turn out fine. I loved him enough to see past myself, to keep from steering him in my own selfish directions. I would be his strength, encouraging him to put his pieces back together, regardless of its cost to me.

  “Just talk to her. See what she has to say, then decide what you want to do with it all,” I encouraged.

  After a few moments of thoughtful consideration, he said, “Okay, but I want you to be there. I need them to know that they can’t separate us. I want them to know my decision has been made and I’m not willing to compromise.”

  “Okay,” I said, smiling at his resolve.

  Our love exuded strength where we couldn’t, becoming a faith that we both deeply believed in. I wondered then how I’d gotten so lucky; how I was living in the dream all little girls dreamed of when they were small? How was I so blessed to have my Prince Charming sitting next to me, so deeply in love with me? I wouldn’t let his family break us apart. If they wanted a war, I was ready, and this time I would win.

  That night we made love as if it were a declaration to the world that our souls would forever be entwined. If one of us fell, we both did, refusing to endure even a moment apart in this life or the next.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Maziar refused to contact his sister directly. He didn’t want to give her the opportunity to strike up a conversation over the phone, avoiding having to meet him face to face. He’d abandoned any feelings of pain, only replacing them with unbidden anger. He was hell-bent on making her squirm, and squirm she did.

  Instead, I was enlisted with the task of ironing out the specifics. Still not fully trusting Bita’s motives, I resorted to discussing the details via text messages so there would be a trail for proof later if necessary. We were set to meet her at the Starbucks near my house Saturday afternoon.