I was slipping on my shoes just as I heard Maziar ring the doorbell. He was standing in the living room talking to my parents when I walked in. He was dressed in a pair of light blue Levi’s and an emerald green T-shirt. It pulled the green specks out of his eyes, burying any hint of brown that was present in them before. It still seemed to surprise me every time I noticed how handsome he was, as if it were the first time I were laying eyes on him. I wondered if the novelty of his looks would ever wear off. I desperately hoped not.
I noticed how Mom held onto him a few seconds longer when she hugged him goodbye. I knew that, in her eyes, he’d done what she felt Dad had failed in doing so many times throughout their own lives. He had chosen me and placed me above his family and their desires. He refused to give into their demands. He would live without them if he had to, but not without me. That had been all that Mom had wanted Dad to do, and although in his mind he had, she’d never felt fully satisfied with his valor. She had now become Maziar’s ally. He wasn’t even aware of how profound his actions truly were to her.
We arrived at the coffee shop a few minutes later. Maziar was the epitome of calm and collected as we made our way to the door, while I was a mess of nerves and stress in comparison.
“Calm down,” he gently urged.
I spotted Bita sitting at the far back corner of the coffee shop and was suddenly hit with the irony of the situation. It had been a lifetime ago when I’d walked through this very door, spotting Maziar in the same chair, as fidgety and rattled as she was, waiting on the conversation that would end us. Now I stood looking at Maziar’s sister with the same mixture of dread and hope that her brother had in that very chair. Life did seem to have a way of coming full circle.
Maziar walked ahead of me, grabbing my hand on the way toward the table, breaking me out of my thoughts. Bita looked up as we approached, a hesitant smile across her face. Her brother remained stoic and unaltered.
“Bita,” he said by way of greeting, slightly nodding his head as he took his seat.
I could visibly see her body tense in reaction, and she began to furiously tap her leg under the table. It had become quite obvious to me within the first few seconds that Maziar was going to make this as uncomfortable as possible for all of us. I had the sudden urge to pummel him, right there in the center of a rather busy Starbucks.
She looked at me and said, “Hi, Sara,” as her brother stared impassively at her.
“Hey,” I responded with a little more fervor than was necessary in an attempt to alleviate the tense energy in the air. I earned an eye roll from Maziar and sank back in my seat, having been silently reprimanded.
I realized that this conversation was a battle between siblings, so I decided it would be in my best interest to sit back and stay out of the line of fire. Bita stared at Maziar like a terrified child, trying desperately to maintain some semblance of control in a conversation that had yet to begin, and in a battle she already seemed to have lost. Maziar was the first to break the silence.
“So, why did you ask me to come here, Bita? Are you going to sit there and stare at me, or are you going to say something?” The irritation in his tone was thick and unyielding.
Bita was thrown back by his outright rage toward her. She seemed to become slightly offended in return. She grabbed her coffee cup tighter, eyeing her brother while she took a sip. The battle of wills was about to begin, and I couldn’t help but wish I could open a trap door beneath me to escape.
“I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for months, but you keep ignoring me,” she said, with less attitude than I’d expected.
“Obviously you didn’t seem to get the hint,” Maziar replied, eye roll and irritation in full effect.
I turned and looked at him, appalled by his lack of cooperation. He didn’t look back at me or even flinch, but I knew he could sense my disdain. Although I knew he could feel it, I wasn’t sure if he even cared because he continued to lay into her.
“I’ve made it very clear that I’m not interested in talking to either you or Mom. I’m pretty pissed that you would even think it was acceptable to just show up at Sara’s work, manipulating her into setting this whole thing up.”
“I didn’t manipulate her. I just asked for her help,” she protested.
Bita looked down at her hands, twisting a napkin furiously between her fingers. I actually felt a pang of sympathy for her, suddenly feeling the need to reach across the table and console her. I sat quietly brewing as Maziar continued to tell Bita how disappointed he was in her and what a horrible person she was.
When he was done, she was nearly in tears. I knew Maziar was warranted in his anger, but he was also upset with his mother, and Bita was paying the price for both. I knew I should hate her, but I wasn’t very good at holding grudges, and Maziar’s attack had unexpectedly made me her ally. Unable to take much more, Bita excused herself to the bathroom. Once she was out of earshot, I turned on him like a tiger about to pounce on his prey.
“What the hell was that?” I asked furiously.
“What do you mean?” His voice was eerily calm and equally frustrating.
“What do I mean? Are you kidding me?” I said.
“Keep your voice down,” he demanded.
There was a hard set to his pupils, and I had to consciously keep my body from recoiling away from him, not allowing him to bully me.
“Why did you even agree to come if all you were going to do was attack her from the moment we sat down? If I’d known you had no intention of actually hearing her out, I wouldn’t have agreed to this.”
“What exactly would you like me to be doing right now? Should I be crying because my sister has decided that she misses me now, after months of giving me shit and making my life hell? You don’t even know the half of it, Sara, because I chose to spare you. You have no idea what battles I had to get into with them over us.” His cheeks were flushed with anger, signaling that I was treading on a very thin line.
“I know that. But your mom is also to blame,” I said, trying to coerce him off the ledge. “It just feels like she’s taking the beating for all of it.”
“Yeah, but she didn’t have my back. I always have Bita’s back, no matter what, when it comes to my parents. I don’t always agree with her or what she’s doing, but I never let her face them alone. Bita took Mom’s side, became a soldier for the enemy. I would never have done that to her,” he said, his features softening into the hurt he was trying desperately to hide.
“No one is your enemy. I know it feels that way, but they aren’t your enemy,” I said.
I reached over and took his hand. I hated that he felt this way, hated that I had anything to do with the fact that his family had shattered him. I wanted so badly to find a way to make it all better for him.
I understood the anger he felt toward his mother and Bita, but I knew those feelings would consume him like a cancer, eating him from the inside out. He needed to let go of the pain and find a way to forgive. Whether I wanted to or not, I knew I had to forgive them first so he could.
When Bita returned to the table, I held Maziar’s hand and squeezed as I turned to face her. She sat there, with red-rimmed eyes, evidence of the breakdown she’d just had in the bathroom stall. She took a deep breath and began to speak. Unable to look her brother in the eyes, she stared at an advertisement propped up on the table instead.
“I don’t know how we got here, Maziar, I really don’t, but I don’t need you to tell me that you’re disappointed in me because I already know that. I’m disappointed in me. You would never would have acted the way I did.” She finally looked at Maziar. “I’m so sorry,” she said. Then, she turned toward me. “I mean it, Sara. I’m so very sorry.”
A tear slipped from her right eye before she could stop it. I was holding Maziar’s hand with my left and, without thinking, I reached over with my right and squeezed Bita’s hands from across the table.
“I forgive you,” I said, and looked at Maziar.
He just sat there, riddle
d with emotions that could be seen all over his face, despite his best efforts. He didn’t know what to do, how to let his anger go, or how to walk out of the store without forgiving his sister. He was struggling with himself, stuck in a battle of contradictions.
“I’m so mad at you,” he whispered. “I would never have left you and backed up Mom and Dad. I would never have abandoned you.”
Bita was weeping now, unable to control her feelings in any capacity. My own heart ached for the pain in his voice and the raw emotions he was laying out in front of us.
“I know. I don’t know what to do but keep saying I’m sorry, Maziar. Please forgive me. Please.”
He looked at his sister, but his eyes were glossed over, and I knew he was no longer seeing her. I imagined he’d taken a trip back in time, to the six-year-old he’d taught to ride a bike, the ten-year-old he used to play shipwreck with, the fifteen-year-old he went homecoming-dress shopping with, despite his protests. Then, he saw the woman she’d become, knowing she had the potential to be much more. He saw the sister, broken and sad before him, lost without her brother, and he reached out and grabbed her hand.
“I can forgive you. I just don’t know if I can trust you,” he said honestly.
“I can work on that. I’ll prove to you that I won’t ever take someone else’s side over yours, not even Mom and Dad’s. We can work on trust. You just need to forgive me first.” She smiled at him.
“I’ll try,” he said, and smiled back at her.
Their hands lay intertwined in the center of the table and I thought to myself that life was amazing. It twisted and turned us in a million different directions, yet in the end, we kept finding ourselves in places that seemed impossible only moments before.
I would never have thought, a few years ago, after Bita and I had drawn our battle lines, that someday we would all be sitting here full of remorse for time lost, forgiveness for mistakes made, and hope for a future filled with love, and not just hate.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
In the weeks to come, Maziar and his sister slowly started to rebuild the tattered pieces of their relationship. Bita began to call her brother every few days. Their conversations mimicked those of acquaintances at first, only encompassing topics two people who were close to strangers would engage in. She was a force to be reckoned with, though.
She remained steadfast, moving forward with the determination of a tornado, never letting Maziar’s clipped responses or disinterest deter her. After a while, she began to break down his defenses, brick by brick, placing herself within the confines of his walls. As I stood back and watched them evolve, I began to believe that their falling-out had actually worked in their benefit, creating stronger bonds than before. In the end, their relationship was better for it.
Life propelled them onward, and soon days turned into weeks and phone calls turned into coffee dates. I started to witness the same ease and comfort I felt with Nima mirrored in Maziar’s relationship with his sister. Much to my own surprise, I too began to feel comfortable around her. I started to be less apprehensive, letting my guard down when she was around. Time continued to push us forward, healing our battle scars and festered wounds until they became a remnant of the way things were, and not like the way things had become.
About a month and a half after Maziar and his sister had reconnected, I’d spent the earlier part of the day at his apartment. We’d gone on a morning run, then to breakfast. I was tidying up when I heard a knock at the front door. Maziar was getting ready in the bedroom, having lunch plans with his sister. He’d invited me to tag along, but I’d declined, having made my own date with Leyla.
I opened the door, expecting to find Bita. Instead, I was greeted by both his sister and father. Parviz was smiling kindly at me, as he always did now.
“Salom Aghah, Parviz. Hey, Bita,” I said.
Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I caught someone to my left. I instinctively turned and found Naghmeh standing a few feet away from me. My smile faded, overtaken by what I assumed was a look of confusion. I stood there mute, not knowing what to do. I heard Maziar rustling about in the living room.
“Is that Bita?” he asked, as he approached the door. I had only opened it widely enough to frame my body, so he had no idea who I was looking at.
He grabbed the side of the door and swung it open, standing beside me. At first glance, he only saw his sister and father, and immediately smiled.
“Hey, Dad, I didn’t know you were coming with us.”
“Yes, it was last-minute,” his father replied, looking nervously side to side.
Bita bounced back and forth on the balls of her feet. Maziar noticed her anxious energy, and turned his head to the left, in the direction in which I was still frozen.
His body instantly tensed as he saw her. I turned toward him, nervous, and somewhat curious, as to what he would do next. Within a millisecond, his expression had transformed from the warm, inviting one of a moment ago, to a passive, hard mask, hiding his reaction. He stood silent and expressionless, determined to outweigh his mother in pride.
She looked at her son. Beneath the anger and irritation, a deeper longing could be seen. Her features softened ever so slightly as she gazed into his eyes. She was no doubt traveling back in time, to better days, when he was her shadow, with his little hand tightly wound around hers. I could sense how much she had missed him, almost see her hand twitch by her side, aching to reach out and touch him. We stood there in the stillness surrounding us, intruders on her thoughts. It seemed to last an eternity, but she finally took the first step, breaking the silence.
“Hello, son.”
We waited, wondering if he would acknowledge her attempt or brush it aside. Maziar reached out and grabbed my hand, once again wordlessly declaring his position.
“Hi, Mom,” was all he offered.
“It’s good to see you. It’s been too long,” she said.
Maziar didn’t respond, just continued to impassively stare at her, never wavering. She stood looking back at him, equal parts strength and confidence.
I started to feel restless, wanting desperately to flee from the situation before anyone had a chance to say another word. Maziar’s father came to the rescue, creating a window for me to bow out respectfully through.
“So, how about we go and get some lunch? I’m hungry.” He chuckled, trying to alleviate the tension. He looked at me. “Sara, will you be joining us?”
I finally pulled my gaze away from Naghmeh, who still hadn’t graced me with even the slightest acknowledgment.
“No,” I said. “I have other plans today. I should actually get going. I’m going to be late.”
“Oh, that’s too bad. Maybe next time,” he replied, politely.
He tried his best to convey a genuine disappointment. Bita met me with the same comforting expression, both working hard to hide their relief that I wouldn’t be there to make an already stressful situation worse. I didn’t spare his mother another glance when I turned and walked back inside.
I went into the bedroom to grab my purse and get out as fast as I could. I heard Maziar invite his family in, then his footsteps down the hall. My heart froze. I couldn’t deal with him. I bustled around grabbing my stuff, trying desperately to keep the fact that I was rattled hidden from his peering eyes. He came up behind me and grabbed my arm, stopping me in the middle of the room. I looked up at him, trying to keep my face expressionless.
“I’m sorry. I had no idea she was coming.”
He looked at me, worried that I might bolt out the door and never return. He knew I wasn’t ready to see her, wasn’t ready to face the reality behind the little fairy tale we’d been living these past few months. Now the truth was coming to haunt us.
I’d just gotten past the doubt that surrounded Bita, had just begun to feel comfortable, able to manage more than an hour in her presence without looking over my shoulder, expecting her to stab me in the back. Then his mother showed up, cold and uncompromising, her s
harp eyes poking holes into my flesh, creating weaknesses in my armor. I was hit with the weight of the truth behind her unwavering stance on the two of us, her inability to see past her old ways and her traditions.
I felt a heavy sadness settle in the middle of my chest as he searched my eyes for some semblance of stability, some sureness that I was remaining steadfast and strong in our hold on each other. I looked away, unable to disappoint him when he recognized there was just fear.
“Yeah, I know. It’s obvious you didn’t know she was coming.”
I tried to sound light and easy, but my voice shook on the end of my words. I pulled free from him, the physical connection making it harder to breathe, and busied myself in gathering my things.
I was consumed by the need to get out of the space his mother was occupying, to get as far away as possible from the negative energy that was nipping at me from every direction. I put the last of my things into my bag and finally managed to find my keys.
Maziar stood alone, in the center of the bedroom, helplessly staring at me. I was too overwhelmed with my need to run to worry about his feelings. I resorted to looking everywhere but at him, trying to avoid eye contact. I couldn’t bear to see the distress I was causing him. Before I could walk out the door, he reached out and grabbed my arm again.
“Sara, wait,” he pleaded.
“I can’t. I really have to go. I’m going to be so late. You guys need to leave, too. They’re waiting for you.”
“I don’t care,” he said, pulling me into him. “Stop running.”
He wrapped his arms around me and forced me up against him. He held me close, his hand cradling the back of my head. I let him comfort me as I melted into his chest. I allowed myself to take in a deep breath of him, letting him fill my lungs with the calm force he was. I granted myself a moment to listen to his heart beat against my ear, relieving an inkling of the ache I felt. I panicked with the thought that they would somehow whisk him away from me again.
“It’s going to be okay,” he said, sensing my fear.
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