by Leylah Attar
“Not everything.” Elizabeth opened the door and peeked in. “I’m just saying. You’re in high school, he’s in college. Plus I don’t see him going for his best friend’s sixteen year old sister.”
“Seventeen!” Jayne folded her arms and looked at me. “What’s the age difference between you and Hafez, Shayda?”
Six years. But I didn’t want to get involved. “I think I’ll have my lunch now,” I said.
“Ooh, that looks good.” Jayne eyed the greek food I’d brought from Farnaz’s restaurant.
“Jayne. That’s rude,” said her mother.
“No, it’s fine. Would you like some?” I asked.
“Uh-huh.”
“Really, Jayne.” Elizabeth shook her head. “I hope you like shepherd’s pie, Shayda, because I insist you join me for lunch.”
“Shepherd’s pie sounds lovely,” I replied.
I was tired of eating leftovers from the restaurant. Hafez and I worked there at night. Behram and Farnaz had been kind enough to let us use the store room after we locked up. We planned on moving out as soon as Hafez found a job.
I finished at Bob’s and got to the restaurant by 6 p.m. Locking the restroom door behind me, I freshened up for the evening shift. Washcloth, soap, warm water. On Mondays, when the restaurant was closed, I washed my hair in the sink. I still saw Pasha Moradi every time I looked in the mirror, his twisted face staring over my shoulder. I put on my apron and took a deep breath, thankful that the restaurant was still empty. It wouldn’t be long before the Friday night crowd started coming in.
The door chimed as I was setting up the tables.
“Hi, Farnaz,” I greeted her.
Then I saw the woman standing behind her.
“Ma!”
She held out her arms.
In the three months since Hafez and I had walked out of the apartment, she’d shrunk. Her eyes were deep hollows and the lines on her face were etched deeper. I pulled out a chair and sat her down.
“I’ll be in the kitchen,” said Farnaz, disappearing behind the doors.
“I ask her...to bring me.” Ma wheezed.
“Are you all right?”
“I come to see Hafez.”
“He’ll be here soon.”
Classifieds, interviews, employment offices. It’s what he did all day.
“I wait,” she said. “How are you?”
“I’m fine.”
She must have seen through it because she slumped into the chair and closed her eyes.
Look, I wanted to tell her, my face has healed up. The bruises are gone, the cuts mended. All that’s left is a scar where my lips split open. I’m fine. Really.
But I couldn’t find the words to comfort her. What could I say to make a mother feel better about the awful truth she had learned that day?
I excused myself as a couple walked in. I had just handed them the menus when Hafez came in.
“I got it,” he said.
There should have been more excitement in his eyes, more victory in his voice, but everything was less. Pasha Moradi’s death should have freed him, but every time he looked at me, he was reminded.
“I thought you’d be safe,” he’d said as they cleaned up my wounds that night. “I thought he was into boys. Men. But it wasn’t about that. It was about power.” Hafez wore his guilt like a layer of self-loathing, even now when he should have been celebrating his new job.
“The truck driver position?” I asked.
“I need some training, but they liked the fact that I can fix cars. I start next week.”
“That’s great.” I felt a small bubble of relief.
We needed this. To feel good and worthy. To have hope for tomorrow.
“Hafez...” I pointed to the back. “Go talk to her.” I left him with Ma and went back to the customers.
When I returned, Ma was distraught.
“You make him understand,” she said. “He say no. He say no to me.”
“Ma.” Hafez took her hand. “Now is not a good time, but it won’t be long before we have our own place. I have a job now. I promise. I’ll come and get you.”
“Now. You take me now,” she cried. “I can’t live with him. I stay here. I stay. I sew. I cook. I help.” She started to cough, gasping for breath in between.
“Khaleh, it’s time to go.” Farnaz touched her shoulder gently.
Ma looked at Hafez.
“Soon, Ma,” he promised.
She walked to the door slowly. I could only imagine how painful her bloated feet felt.
The evening passed in a blur of food and change and loud music. When everything was locked up and we were ready for bed, I set mouse traps around the mattress. It was the only way I could fall asleep after the horror of the first night.
We lay back to back on the makeshift bed. I understood now why Hafez slept facing away from me. There was a vulnerability in sleep, those unguarded hours when you didn’t want anyone to see your face, when grotesque shadows rearranged its contours as they roamed your dreams.
The shrill ring of the phone woke us up. Hafez stumbled to the kitchen to answer it.
I looked at the time. 3:15 a.m.
When Hafez didn’t return, I went looking for him.
“It was Farnaz.” He was sitting at one of the booths in the dining room, barely discernible in the dark.
I started shaking because I knew it was bad.
“Ma...” He kept his eyes on the salt shaker, sliding it on the table, from one hand to the other. “She’s gone.”
“Where?” I thought of her trapped in that tiny apartment, staring at the empty spot that had been her glass cabinet.
“She’s dead, Shayda. The doctors say her heart finally caught up with her. What do they know?” Hafez laughed. It was a bitter, hollow sound. “It was me. I’m the one that failed her.”
“Don’t do this to yourself,” I said.
Across the street, the traffic lights changed. Red, amber, green, each one casting an eerie glow on our faces. The streets were empty and still they continued, flashing to a pre-set pattern.
“When’s the funeral?” I asked, after a long stretch of silence.
“Pedar doesn’t want us there.”
“She’s your mother. He can’t stop you.”
“Maybe it’s for the best. If I see him, I’ll kill him.”
“Hafez—” I reached for him, but he flinched.
“The day we first met, I just wanted to get Ma off my back. I thought I’d say, ‘There. I met her. I don’t like her.’ I’d done it before. I couldn’t tell her that I was damaged, that no girl deserved that.” He stopped playing with the glass shaker.
“But I liked you,” he said. “You were sweet. And innocent. I thought that if I could hang around you long enough, I’d become less...dirty. So I put you on a pedestal, like those figurines that Ma loved. I wanted to keep you pure and safe. Instead I dragged you into the mud. I let you down, Shayda, just like I let Ma down today.”
I watched him lay his head on the table. He was surrendering, letting waves of guilt and shame toss him around. The painting of Poseidon, hanging across the restaurant, mocked me. I saw Pasha Moradi, rising from the depths, ready to spear Hafez with his trident.
No.
He had taken the boy. He was not going to get the man.
I held Hafez. I rocked him. I brushed the hair away from his face. I gathered the drifting pieces and stuck them back on. When he finally looked at me, I kissed him. When he turned away, I kissed him. I kissed away the layers of stuck-on grime so he could feel clean again. I gave him all the things I wanted for myself. Love and tenderness and a place to belong. And slowly, he turned to me in the dark, resting his forehead on mine.
I slipped the straps of my nightgown off my shoulders and let him look at me. Red, amber, green, my skin glowed. I took his hand and placed it on my soft, warm flesh. He gasped, finally allowing himself to breath.
“Shayda...” He wrapped his arms around me and lifted me off t
he table.
We made love for selfish reasons, clutching at other. He needed to claw his way out of the pain and I wanted to be needed. We shared a bond beyond our gold bands. A common predator haunted us, and I knew, even as Hafez shut out my face when he took me, that we were always going to be.
10. Tangled
November 11th, 1995
I reach for the crimson coat that Hafez gave me that first winter. It’s frayed around the edges now, but it reminds me of hot pizza and new dreams.
I head to the community centre with the kids. Zain has just switched from swimming to guitar.
“I hate it!” he said of the beginner’s aqua class.
“It’s an important life skill. You have to learn.”
“Next semester. Pleaaase?” He pulled puppy dog eyes. We caved and bought him a guitar.
Between his music, Natasha’s art classes, and my open houses, weekends are a blur of activities. I head to the grocery store after seeing the children off.
“$84.56, please.”
I hand my card to the cashier.
“Shayda?”
I look at her for the first time.
“Marjaneh.” Hossein’s ex. My one time sister-in-law.
She seems embarrassed as she hands my card back. “I just started here.”
“How are you?”
“Good.” Her eyes move to the line forming behind me. “How is Maamaan?”
She still calls my mother ‘Maamaan’, but I know she’s asking, ‘How is Hossein?’
“Fine,” I reply.
The man behind me coughs, not too discretely.
“Good seeing you.” I pick up my bags.
“You too.”
I walk out of the store, thinking about her.
Marjaneh, the girl whose fate I may have stolen.
Our fathers had been business partners in Tehran. The plan was to send Marjaneh and me abroad. Every month, they put aside money for airfare. When there was enough to send one of us, they held a big picnic to celebrate. All of our extended family joined in.
We ate and played games, and then it was time to decide which one of us would go.
“We’ll toss a coin,” says Baba. “Hossein, get my wallet from the car.”
“We don’t need a coin. We have these.” Marjaneh’s father, Amu Reza, pointed to the pebbles on the ground. “We’ll use two—black and white. Black means stay, white means go.”
“You’re older,” Marjaneh said to me. “It’s only fair you get to pick.”
Everyone gathered around, laughing and talking. I was the only one who saw Amu Reza get the pebbles from the ground. He chose two black ones. It didn’t matter which one I picked. He had just made sure his daughter would be the one to go.
Amu Reza closed his palm over the stones and held his hands out.
“Go ahead,” he said. “Pick one.”
Calling him out would humiliate him before everyone, and a man’s honor is his everything. So I took a deep breath and tapped his right hand. As he went to turn it over, I lurched forward, knocking it off his palm. It fell and mingled with the other pebbles on the ground.
“Sorry,” I said.
“It’s all right. We’ll try again.” Amu Reza reached for another pebble.
“There’s no need,” I said. “Just look at the one in your hand and you’ll know which one I picked.”
Amu Reza’s eyes narrowed. He knew I knew. We stared at each other for a moment.
Then he turned his other palm over.
“It’s black!” exclaimed Baba. “That means Shayda picked the white pebble.”
“Congratulations.” Amu Reza looked at me with grudging respect.
“I’m happy for you.” Marjaneh hugged me.
And now here she is, struggling to make ends meet. When Maamaan told me she was marrying Hossein, I had felt relief. She was going to make it to Canada after all. How different would her life have been, had I let Amu Reza play out his plan that day? How different would mine?
I get in the car and glance at the clock. I don’t have to pick up the kids for a while. I take the highway and find myself at the park Troy took me to. The golden leaves are gone, turned colorless and brittle under my feet. I sit on the bench, staring at the reflection of cold sky and bare branches.
My watch beeps. Remembrance Day. I had set it for 11:00 a.m. I close my eyes to pay a silent tribute to all those who fell for the freedoms I have today, but all I see is a red butterfly, a blue sky, a valley on fire.
My mind keeps going back to Troy.
Somewhere in the fabric of all these years, our lives got tangled, like unruly threads pulling and snagging into impossible knots. How could we have known that one night would stay with us so long?
11. Fireworks
PAST
July 1st, 1983
“That was delicious,” I said as I cleared the dishes. “Jayne did such a great job of setting the table.”
“She’s quite the little party planner, isn’t she?” Elizabeth smiled.
We stood back to admire her work. Even with the dirty plates and messy napkins, the Canada Day set-up looked beautiful. Place cards, held by pine cones, now rolled over like sated guests on the red table cloth. A white table runner accentuated wine bottles holding bright gerberas, and the walls were decked out with red and white checkered banners on twine.
I bit into one of the maple-leaf sugar cookies and grimaced. “If only she baked as well.”
Elizabeth laughed. “I can’t get her to step foot in the kitchen, but maybe she’ll listen to you.”
“Why cook when you can have it catered?” Jayne joined us in the kitchen. “You don’t think the cookies will impress?”
We shook our heads.
“The cupcakes?”
Elizabeth and I exchanged dubious looks.
Jane hopped on the counter and dangled her feet wistfully. “How am I ever going to get him to notice me?”
“Jayne,” said her mother, “are you still trying to get Troy’s attention?”
“There’s no point,” Jayne replied. “He thinks I’m just a kid. He dates cheerleaders and models. What chance do I have?”
“He’s dating his age. And so should you. There are plenty of nice guys that you keep turning down.”
“I don’t want a nice guy.”
“Now you listen to me, young lady. Troy might have somewhat of a reputation, but even he knows that you’re out of bounds. So unless you want to get your heart broken, you’d best stop daydreaming.”
Jayne pouted. “Can I at least go watch the fireworks with them tonight?”
“Who’s going?” asked Elizabeth.
“Ryan, Ellen and Troy.”
“Ryan and Ellen are a couple. Please tell me you’re not thinking of this as double date with Troy.”
“Mum!”
“You are!” Elizabeth shook her head and looked at me with a face that could only belong to mothers of teenaged daughters.
“What if Shayda comes with us?” asked Jayne. “It won’t be a double date then, right?”
“I’m sure Shayda has other plans.”
“No, she doesn’t,” replied Jayne. “Hafez isn’t back until Sunday.”
Elizabeth turned to me. “Have you ever been to the Canada Day fireworks at Ashbridges Bay?”
“No. I was going to catch it on TV.”
“It’s not the same. Bob and I stopped going because of the crowds, but you should go. If not this year, then next summer.”
“Oh come! It’ll be fun!” Jayne jumped off the counter. “Please, Shayda? Mum will let me go if you go, won’t you?”
“Quit putting Shayda on the spot.” Elizabeth opened the fridge and started stowing away the leftovers.
Behind her, Jayne clasped her hands.
‘Please, Please, PLEASE,’ she mouthed.
“Okay, I’ll go.”
“Yeahhh!” Jayne threw her arms around me. “I love you, I love you, I loooove you!”
I laughed, but it
came out funny—embarrassed and awkward, and a little overwhelmed by the show of affection.
“Why don’t the two of you go sit with Bob and Ryan?” I said. “I’ll finish cleaning up.”
“Are you sure?” asked Elizabeth.
“It’s the least I can do.”
“Thanks, Shayda.”
Jayne watched her mother join the men in the backyard.
“Let me know when Troy gets here.” She winked, before skipping out in her sassy denim shorts and crop top.
She was showing a lot of skin lately. Then again, it was her first adolescent crush and there was no stopping her. I admired her exuberance, the way she ran out to meet the world, expecting it to unravel to her dreams.
I put away last pot and reached for the sliding door, stopping to smile at the scene before me. Ryan was chasing Jayne with a hose. She screamed and threw her flip-flops at him. The first one missed; the second smacked Ryan square in the jaw.
“Ohhhh, you’re in for it now,” he yelled.
Jayne ducked behind Bob’s lounger.
“Shit!” said Ryan as he soaked his father instead.
Now it was Bob vs. Ryan.
“Cut it out.” Elizabeth waved her arms at them. “Why can’t we ever sit like a normal family and enjoy some quiet time together?”
The other three grinned and ganged up on her as she ran screaming to the other side of the pool. I couldn’t tell what happened next because everything turned blurry. My palm rested on the air-conditioned glass, looking out at four happy figurines come to life.
I averted my gaze, focusing on the trees instead. If they hadn’t been so dark and lush I might have missed it—a pair of eyes staring back at me in the reflection—a bright, brilliant blue, like the sky peeking through the leaves. Troy’s silhouette was mirrored in the glass, standing behind me, but it was too late to hide my face. I dared not breathe or the tears that trembled on the edges of my lashes would fall.
The clouds moved and the leaves swayed, but on our side of that door, everything froze. I felt like a raw, exposed specimen under a microscope. But instead of cold, hard speculation, I found something else in his eyes, something unexpectedly overwhelming. I jerked away from the door, but he pinned my hand to the glass. His fingers covered mine, grounding me in an instinctual gesture of comfort.