Forbidden by Faith

by Negeen Papehn

  I desperately wanted to believe him, but like a wound that refused to heal, the voice from long ago was back in my head shouting warnings at me at the top of her lungs. It was too late. I was already allowing her to fill my head with thoughts of his family’s plotting and scheming to get me out of his life. I began to doubt Bita’s motives, began to wonder if I’d been suckered yet again.

  “I know it will,” I replied. “I really do have to go.” I stood on my tiptoes, placing a quick kiss on his lips, then headed out the bedroom door. He came out behind me, following me into the living room. “Bye, everyone. Have a good lunch,” I chirped as I made my way to the front door. I needed to get away.

  I didn’t glance back at them, only wanting to get as far away as I could. I walked out the door and quickly closed it behind me, not allowing Maziar to follow me out, either. I didn’t give myself time to think, just forced myself to walk to the car.

  I was an hour early for lunch, sticky and sweaty from our workout, and not even close to being ready. I debated going home first, but I wasn’t sure who would be there. Detouring from the original plan would only raise suspicions. It would tip Mom off that something had gone wrong. I wasn’t ready for an interrogation. I decided to call Leyla. Luckily, her family was out, so I briefly gave her an update as I headed over to shower and change.

  After I’d gotten ready, Leyla was waiting for me on her bed. I was hoping to avoid talking about it altogether, but I knew she wasn’t going to let me off the hook. I sat down and began to describe the afternoon, in greater detail than before.

  “Sara, nothing has happened yet. Why are you freaking out?” she asked.

  “What do you mean why am I freaking out? You didn’t see his mother. She’s never going to budge. She literally didn’t acknowledge my existence. How am I not supposed to freak out right now?” I said, exasperated. “She is obviously going to try to weasel her way back into his life, then cut me out!”

  Leyla laughed. “You’re so dramatic,” she said, rolling her eyes.

  “You’re not helping.” I scowled at her.

  “I know. I’m sorry. Do you want my opinion on it?”

  “Of course I do,” I urged, desperate for help.

  “Okay, I think you shouldn’t freak out about it yet. Nothing has actually happened. I think you should have some faith in him. I really don’t think he’s going to cave simply because she’s come around. Remember it was Maziar who cut them off. He hasn’t reached out to contact any of them, other than his dad, but that’s only because he supports you guys. Bita came running after him. Don’t worry unless you have to‒and I’m telling you, you don’t have to.”

  She always seemed to be the voice of reason in my chaotic mind. I prayed she was right, that Maziar would stay strong in the midst of the storm. We spent the rest of the afternoon talking of other things as I tried to keep my mind off what was happening across town.

  A few hours later, Maziar called. I wasn’t ready to get an update on what had just gone down between them, so I sent him to voicemail. Leyla looked at me disapprovingly but didn’t comment, knowing I needed to do things in my own time.

  After lunch, I was supposed to head back to Maziar’s so we could rent a movie and relax for the evening, but I lacked the courage to face the afternoon. I’d missed three calls and two text messages from him, urging me to call back. I couldn’t gather the strength to call him, so I buried my phone in my purse and decided to go home instead.

  I pulled up to my house so deep in thought that I failed to notice the car parked out front. I walked through the door and was startled to hear his voice. He was sitting with my parents on the couch, drinking tea. They were all laughing at something he’d said. I wasn’t sure what it was, but from the way Mom was giggling, it was the most hilarious thing she’d ever heard. I looked like a deer in headlights, standing there, watching.

  “Hi, azizam,” Mom said. “Chayee mekhay?”

  I shook my head, never taking my eyes off of Maziar. Tea would not rectify this situation. He looked back at me with a little smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked.

  “You weren’t picking up my calls so I decided to come over to make sure you were okay. ‘What are you doing here?’ is the better question,” he said, tilting his head to the side in challenge. The smugness danced in his eyes. “I thought we had plans.”

  I suddenly felt angry, having the urge to throw my water bottle at his head. Mom smiled as I squirmed. I glared in her direction, as her loyalties become very clear. Dad laughed. I felt like I’d walked into the middle of an inside joke and I was the odd man out somehow.

  “What is going on here?” I said to all three of them, accusingly.

  Maziar stood up, walking over to me. “Well,” he said, “you weren’t responding to me, so I called your mom to make sure you weren’t lying dead in a ditch somewhere. When she said she’d thought you were with me, I had to tell her what happened today with my parents. Both of us agreed that you would likely avoid me, like always. We thought I should come to the house and wait for you, that being the likely place you’d end up.” He was looking down at me through long lashes, his sex appeal irritating. “I’m not going to let you run, Sara, no matter how badly you think you want to.” He leaned down and kissed my forehead, refraining from showing too much affection in front of my parents. “Can we go get a movie and go back to my place now?”

  “Oh Sara, don’t give the boy such a hard time,” Dad threw in playfully.

  What was happening here? How had my parents crossed over to being Maziar’s allies, and why was it making me want to flutter around with happiness that they had? I couldn’t stay angry very long.

  “You’re so annoying,” I mumbled, swatting him across the arm.

  “I know, but that’s why you love me.”

  “It’s good to know you have my back, guys,” I said to my parents.

  “Go have fun,” Mom replied, shooing us out the door. “See you later.”

  By the time we got to his car, the playfulness had left his eyes, replaced by irritation. I was confused for a moment, unsure of what had just happened in the past few seconds to cause his mood change.

  “You don’t get to avoid me, Sara. That isn’t okay. Do you understand?” he said, his anger barely contained beneath the surface. “It’s not fair. I already have so much shit to deal with that I can’t worry I’m going to lose you every time something happens. I don’t know what I have to do to prove it’s you and me. No one else matters.”

  His rage was short-lived as he sat back in his seat, visibly exhausted. My heart broke. I hadn’t realized I’d hurt him by avoiding his calls. I was too busy worrying about how I felt to notice that I was now his foundation, and when I hid, I was leaving him alone. I reached across the center console, wrapping my arms around him.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make it harder for you. I’m just really scared,” I said apologetically.

  “I know, but you don’t get to leave. I can’t feel like I have to always worry about you, too. It’s hard enough. Promise me, Sara: you have to have my back in all this, and that means being there.”

  “I promise.”

  I stood behind Maziar as he fumbled with the keys. I wanted desperately to know what had happened at their lunch, but at the same time, I was terrified of the outcome. I stayed quiet as I followed him inside.

  Suddenly, he turned and pushed me up against the door, kissing me deeply. His fingers pressed into my skin as he shoved his body up against mine, pushing us deeper into the wood. He tore at my shirt, frantically pulling it up over my head as if he we were running out of vital time. He teased me with kisses up and down my neck, moving onto my breasts as he unhooked the clasp of my bra.

  I was startled at his urgency, a feeling of fear mixing in with the pleasure he was leaving on my skin. I couldn’t detach from my thoughts, worried that something worse than I’d expected had happened at lunch, and now he was tryi
ng to ease the impact. His need for me was tangible, exuding from his pores, filling the room around us. With knots in my throat and dread in my stomach, I leaned into him, matching his chaos.

  I pulled his shirt over his head, laid my own intense path of lips all over his body, feeling the goosebumps rise in my wake. I tore his pants off, discarding them on the floor. I pushed him away from me, took in the perfection of his figure, each muscle creating its own ripple on his chest, his arms, his legs.

  His desire stood at attention, making its presence known. I reached out and touched him; he shuddered beneath my fingers. A moan slipped his lips as I teased his ear between my teeth, his manhood between my hands. Suddenly, he hoisted me up and wrapped my legs around his waist, pushing himself deep inside me. I screamed out with pleasure as he took me up against the door.

  When it was over, he held onto me tightly as I leaned my head on his shoulder, burying my face in the crook of his neck. He walked over the couch and gently put me down, lying next to me. He pulled me close to him, nestling me under the crook of his arm.

  “So, did it go that badly today?” I asked.

  “No,” he said, reassuringly. “But even if it did, I’m never leaving you, Sara. I know you don’t believe that, but I’m going to say it every day until you do.”

  “I just thought, with how we just made love, that things had gone really badly. Like you were trying to soften the blow before telling me the details.”

  “No, that was just because I’ve wanted you all damn day,” he confessed, smirking.

  “Oh, okay,” I giggled. “Well, then, how did lunch go?”

  “About that, things didn’t go badly, but you have to stay open-minded.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  I pulled myself up on my elbow to look at him, not liking the tone in his voice. My giddiness for his desire was rapidly replaced by dread.

  “Well, lunch went as expected. We talked and argued. I put my foot down. My mom tried to push back. I, obviously, didn’t budge. She finally gave in, realizing that I’m a package deal. She knows if she doesn’t accept you, then she loses me.”

  “And?” I held my breath, waiting for the punchline.

  “She wants to go out to dinner with us next week,” he said.

  “What?” I asked, horrified.

  “She knows I’m thinking forever with you, so she says she wants to get to know you.” He reached out and pulled me back to his chest, placing my head down where I could hear the beating of his heart. “This is a good thing, Sara. This means she knows she can’t break us up. I think she’s going to try.”

  I lay there, devoid of words as my mind swirled with an avalanche of thoughts. Was she really trying to get to know me, or was this just another ploy in her never-ending plans to sever me from Maziar’s life? If this was indeed part of her plan, would Maziar really be able to withstand her advances? They’d had one lunch and he was already convinced she’d changed. As my thoughts crashed into each other, Maziar gently played with my hair, trying to soothe me off the ledge I was standing on.

  “How am I supposed to act around her? What do I say?” I asked, terrified.

  “Just be yourself. She’s the one trying to prove herself, not you.”

  Maziar seemed happy, convinced this was a turning point. But I knew better. She’d successfully made her way in again over one afternoon, and she wasn’t going to allow anyone to push her out a second time. She’d play whatever game he needed her to and then have her way with me. But she’d thrown down the gauntlet and now the ball was in my court. I could do nothing but accept the invitation, readying for the worse while praying for the best.

  I rolled myself on top of Maziar and had my way with him again, right there on the couch, trying to consume the last moments of our uninterrupted happiness before his mother stole them away.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  The week preceding the “dinner” flew by. I wanted time to drag on, to stand still, giving me a moment to find the courage I needed to face off with the lioness. I felt small and weak, a mere child facing a dragon, with only sticks and rocks as weapons. It wasn’t in my nature to be good at the art of confrontation, even more so with one of my elders. I went through the motions of each day unable to focus, all along my mind preoccupied with the events of the weekend looming before me.

  Seti and Leyla had taken it upon themselves to prepare me, throwing every scenario possible in my direction. I felt like a prize fighter in intensive training, readying for the championship. By the time it was Saturday, I felt dizzy from preparations and exhausted from the apprehension. I wanted to flake on the whole thing, throwing my hands up in defeat before the war had even begun.

  I spent most of the day hanging out with Mom as she, too, went about preparing me for the battle ahead. She urged me stick up for myself, to say my piece but to do it respectfully to avoid any further issues in an already dramatic situation. I wasn’t worried about being rude, but I was scared that I wouldn’t have the guts to say anything at all.

  I was standing in front of the mirror staring at my reflection when I heard a light knock on my door. I was noticing how the pink of my blazer brought out the rosiness in my cheeks, how the white of my tank top reflected off the deep brown of my eyes, making them look like pools of dark chocolate, the pupils barely discernible. I watched Maziar’s necklace sway with each breath I took, moving in unison with the long curls that fell around my face. I took in my tiny frame, lean and hard from my morning runs, outlined by my black pants.

  “Maziar’s here,” Mom said, popping her head in.

  “I know. I heard the doorbell. I just need another minute.”

  “Okay,” she said tenderly, knowing I was worried.

  I made my way to the living room a few minutes later. Maziar was standing by the doorway talking to Dad. He looked toward me as I walked in, a smile breaking out across his face. I felt my breath catch in the back of my throat as it always did when he looked at me that way.

  “You ready?” he asked, knowing I was dreading this dinner.

  “Yes.” I leaned in to kiss my parents.

  “Take good care of my daughter, Maziar,” Mom urged.

  He stopped and turned to face her. “Of course I will. I always do,” he assured her. He leaned in and kissed her cheek. She blushed under his unwavering attention. I was grateful that this was at least one relationship I didn’t have to worry about.

  His parents had made dinner reservations in Malibu. The drive over was a quiet one as I tried to muster up the courage to face the evening. I hadn’t even realized we’d made it until the attendant opened my door. I just sat there staring at him, desperately wanting to remain in my seat. When I didn’t move, he reached out his hand so I could take it. I reluctantly let him help me out of the car.

  Maziar came over to me and gently kissed the top of my head. “It’s going to be okay,” he whispered in my ear.

  I wished I could believe him, wished we could walk out of here with no war wounds to show for it. But that nagging voice had taken up permanent residence in my head, screaming warnings of danger at me. No matter what I did, I couldn’t shake her. I knew this evening was a bad idea.

  The hostess walked us over to our table. It was located on the deck overlooking the ocean. The sun had almost set and the sky was aglow with pinks and oranges that swirled around the cotton candy clouds. The waves crashed against the rocks below, their rhythmic pattern soothing in the background. I stared out at the water and wondered how I’d gotten here. How did we go from two kids in a club to Judgment Day at this restaurant? How was I exactly where I’d tried so hard to avoid being?

  I fidgeted in my seat as we waited for his family to arrive. I pulled obsessively at a frayed string on the side of my pants, giving my hands something to do other than lie idly in my lap. I hadn’t even noticed Maziar ordering us drinks until the waitress showed up with two glasses of wine. I gratefully grabbed mine, taking a long sip.

  “I love you,”
he said reassuringly.

  Before I could respond, I spotted Bita walking through the door and my heart dropped. She saw us from across the restaurant and headed toward us, smiling. Her parents were trailing behind her, Parviz in the lead, his arm stretched out behind him, holding his wife’s hand. His smile was wide and warm, crinkling the corners of his eyes. It did nothing to calm my nerves, my gaze intently set on his wife.

  Naghmeh stood proper and poised, exuding perfection from her pores. Her face was smoothed into an expression of indifference as she set her sights on me. I could feel the icicles forming on my skin from the chill of her stare. My stomach roiled with tension, but I tried to swallow it down, remembering what Mom had told me. The fact that I was falling apart on the inside was irrelevant. I needed to find a way to mask my emotions from the four people sitting at this table. I focused on calming my own features.

  We stood up when they approached, as is customary when greeting new arrivals in our culture. Bita came in first, hugging us both. She took the seat directly across from me, trying to position herself in the crossfire, in hopes that she could deflect some of the ammunition shot my way. I saw a silent approval exchanged across the table between Maziar and his sister as she lapped up his validation. His father came in next, shaking his hand, then leaning in to give me a quick hug.

  When it was his mother’s turn, she wrapped her arms tightly around her son, glancing at me from over his shoulder with an expressionless face. The dread began to amplify in the pit of my stomach and I had to focus on staying unresponsive to keep her from seeing it. I felt like I was going to throw up. Once Maziar successfully severed himself from her, she reached across the table, grabbing my hand.

  “Salom, Sara. It’s good to see you,” she said, disinterested.

  “Salom, Naghmeh Khanoom. It’s good to see you too,” I answered, mimicking her tone.

  We stood there awkwardly looking at each other until Parviz pulled the seat out for her. We all followed suit, sitting down. I grabbed my wine glass, taking another long drink, not caring what judgments were behind his mother’s intense gaze. Maziar just smiled, no doubt amused by my sudden disregard for proper Persian girl etiquette. I could hear Mom’s voice in my head.