Butterfly Stitching

by Shermin Kruse

  SAMIRA loses her balance on the chair. DAVOUD offers his hand.

  DAVOUD

  I take it you didn’t know.

  SAMIRA

  I remember him saying something to Hassan . . .

  DAVOUD

  The thing is, he was smart not to publish under his own name, but he chose the wrong man for whom to ghostwrite.

  SAMIRA

  It never occurred to me to think about it.

  DAVOUD

  Farzad Lirabi. A real imbecile. A loose cannon, particularly when he’s drunk, and he’s drunk all the time.

  SAMIRA

  But, he never told me . . . not really . . .

  DAVOUD

  Then Lirabi started talking about having a son in jail here. I thought maybe he’d use Armin’s identity to get his son out.

  SAMIRA

  There was nothing, not even one clue. Where did he write?

  DAVOUD

  I don’t know.

  SAMIRA

  Who published them?

  DAVOUD

  Some small shop in Paris.

  SAMIRA

  What did he say? I mean, do you have any of the work?

  DAVOUD

  Samira . . .

  SAMIRA

  How could he not tell me? How could he not trust me?

  DAVOUD

  Did you tell Armin you saw me in the bazaar that day?

  SAMIRA is silent.

  Beat.

  DAVOUD

  Deceit between husband and wife is a terrible thing, isn’t it?

  (beat)

  Makes you question everything you ever believed was real.

  Your entire understanding of your world. One minute you’re balanced, and the next, your self-assurance trembles beneath you and you lose your balance. Am I right?

  SAMIRA

  Things really have come full circle, haven’t they?

  DAVOUD

  That’s not what I meant. What I meant was, you can’t lose your grip. You can’t question everything. He was, no doubt, just trying to protect you.

  (beat)

  Now do you see why you have to leave?

  SAMIRA nods.

  DAVOUD

  Let me come with you.

  SAMIRA

  I don’t understand why you think I’d do that.

  DAVOUD

  I’ll protect you. And your children.

  SAMIRA

  Davoud, we have our cards to enter America. I don’t need your protection, or your smuggler, to leave.

  DAVOUD

  The problem isn’t entering America. It’s that you won’t be allowed to exit Iran. Your names are certainly on the blacklist.

  SAMIRA

  Blacklist?

  DAVOUD

  You were interrogated overnight, before the funeral, weren’t you?

  SAMIRA

  How did you—?

  DAVOUD

  I have my sources.

  SAMIRA

  You’re the reason they let me go!

  DAVOUD

  I couldn’t pay them enough to stay away forever, Samira. I could only convince them to let you attend the funeral services. They’ll be back. Would you rather orphan your children than accept my help?

  Beat.

  SAMIRA

  What do I tell my family?

  DAVOUD

  What family? Your parents are both dead. You have no siblings.

  SAMIRA

  My friends, Armin’s family, his friends . . . they’re my family.

  DAVOUD

  You tell them nothing.

  SAMIRA

  What do you mean, nothing?

  DAVOUD

  You can’t tell anyone anything. You can’t tell a soul.

  SAMIRA

  I can’t—

  DAVOUD

  They’ll definitely be questioned after you leave and it’s much better for them if they don’t know anything.

  SAMIRA

  But I—

  DAVOUD

  We can call anyone you’d like to call once we’ve made it to Istanbul.

  FADE TO:BLACK

  FADE IN:

  INT. THE CHILDREN’S BEDROOM, MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT

  SAHAR, REZA and RAUMBOD are sleeping in their beds. The twins are in bunk beds. The lights are off but a sliver of moonlight shines through the window. The room is a mess. Clothing hangs from the open dresser drawers. Several duffel bags sit on the floor. A black headscarf hangs around SAMIRA’S neck as she stuffs clothing into the duffel bags.

  CUT TO:

  INT. THE CHILDREN’S BEDROOM, EVENING (DREAM SEQUENCE)

  There is darkness all around. SAHAR and ARMIN sit cross-legged on SAHAR’S bed. They face each other, and in between them is a globe that is glowing. No one else is in the room. The globe is a beautiful mosaic made from semi-precious stones. Oceans and seas are a lustrous black opalite; latitude and longitude lines are thin ribbons of polished brass; and each country is inlaid with a previous stone. SAHAR and ARMIN sit comfortably, just relishing being alive, taking turns spinning the globe.

  ARMIN

  Go ahead, azizam. Give it a spin.

  SAHAR

  Okay, Baba jan!

  A woman approaches from the darkness wearing a dark veil. She is angry. She frowns, takes the globe from them, and smashes it to the ground. It shatters. The angry woman stomps on the broken pieces. SAHAR is horrified and, with the light of the globe gone, she cannot see her baba anymore. The woman and ARMIN vanish in the dark.

  SAHAR

  (wailing)

  Baba! Baba! Baba!

  (END DREAM SEQUENCE) MATCH DISSOLVE TO:

  INT. THE CHILDREN’S BEDROOM, MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT

  SAHAR is wailing in her sleep.

  SAHAR

  Baba! Baba! Baba!

  SAMIRA turns on a small lamp next to SAHAR’S bed and rushes to her side.

  SAMIRA

  It’s okay, aziz.

  It’s okay, baby.

  Just a nightmare. It was just a nightmare, sweetie. It’s okay. It’s okay.

  SAMIRA takes her daughter into her arms and gently strokes her hair. The twins stir.

  SAMIRA

  Go back to sleep boys. Your sister just had a bad dream.

  Everything’s okay.

  SAHAR

  Maman, I was with Baba and we were playing with the world and then this horrible woman came out of the shadows and turned the globe lights off and then I couldn’t even see him anymore!

  SAMIRA

  You’re safe. It’s okay. You’re with me.

  SAHAR looks around and notices the state of the bedroom.

  SAHAR

  Maman! What’s going on? Are you sending us away?

  SAMIRA

  What? What do you mean, Meymoon?

  SAHAR points to the duffel bags.

  SAMIRA

  Oh, that. No, of course I’m not sending you away. But, we do have to go away. All of us . . . together.

  SAHAR

  Go away? Where?

  SAMIRA’S stomach cramps. The stress made her cycle arrive early. RAUMBOD is awake now and sticking his head up from the bottom bunk.

  SAMIRA

  To America, of course! Remember? We got permission to go.

  RAUMBOD

  America?

  SAMIRA

  Yes, my sweet. It’s going to be wonderful there. Just like we talked about before. But—but it’ll be tough to get there. We’ll have to go through some hard times. Some really, really hard times. But in the end, we’ll reach America.

  RAUMBOD

  Will Baba come with us?

  SAMIRA

  He’ll be in our thoughts. Now, I’m nearly done packing. Probably makes sense to get you kids out of bed. Davoud will be here any minute.

  SAHAR

  Who’s Davoud?

  SAMIRA

  Amoo Davoud. Actually, you should call him Amoo Davoud. He’s an old friend of mine and of your baba’s.

  REZA

 
I’ve never heard of him.

  SAMIRA

  Reza, honey, are you awake too?

  REZA

  How can I sleep with you three making so many noises?

  SAHAR

  Who’s Amoo Davoud?

  REZA

  And why do we have to leave? I don’t want to leave.

  RAUMBOD

  I don’t want to leave, either!

  SAMIRA

  Listen to me, kids, listen. You know the bad people who hurt your baba?

  SAHAR

  Yeah.

  SAMIRA

  Well, they’re very bad people, and I think they might come back here to try to hurt the rest of us.

  SAHAR

  (in tears)

  But we didn’t do anything!

  There is a knock at the door. SAMIRA leaves the bedroom to check who is there. SAHAR runs to the window.

  CUT TO:

  EXT. COURTYARD, CONTINUOUS

  A black car is parked in the courtyard. The gates are open.

  CUT TO:

  INT. LIVINGROOM, CONTINUOUS

  SAMIRA opens the door and DAVOUD enters the apartment of the man who replaced him. The walls are covered with SAMIRA’S paintings. Her style has changed from the time he knew her—abstract, sharply angled cheeks and chins contrast with softly rounded eyes and lips—but her subject matter is still portraits. She has a whole series of women covered with chadors, some with splashes of bold colors amidst imposing blacks and grays, at least one dramatic, loudly lashed eye escaping from beneath their chadors, staring directly into the eyes of the viewer. Her men have triangular bags under their sunken eyes and smiles that seem forced.

  REVERSE ANGLE, P.O.V. of SAHAR, WATCHING DAVOUD WALK DOWN THE HALLWAY TOWARD HER, inching his way from one painting to another. He comes to a stop at a portrait of SHABNAM. It hangs next to one of SAHAR and her brothers building sandcastles on the Caspian beach.

  DAVOUD

  I remember this one.

  SAMIRA

  We’re all packed, Davoud, and ready to go.

  FADE TO BLACK

  FADE IN:

  ESTABLISHING SHOT, THE CITY OF OROMIYEH, AFTERNOON

  INT. TEA SHOP, EARLY MORNING

  Oromiyeh is an ancient city in the northwest of Iran, close to the Turkish border. MR. SHIRAZI, SAMIRA, SAHAR, DAVOUD, RAUMBOD, and REZA are in the tea shop, seated at a round table while MR. SHIRAZI speaks in a softer voice. DAVOUD is holding a small bag in his hands.

  MR. SHIRAZI

  We’re really close to Turkey now, so the people here are mostly Turks or Azari, some Kurds and Armenians, too.

  SAMIRA

  Do they speak Farsi here?

  MR. SHIRAZI

  No, most don’t. You shouldn’t speak much either because your Farsi will draw attention to you.

  DAVOUD

  How long will we stay?

  Two men sitting and playing backgammon next to them laugh at a joke.

  MR. SHIRAZI

  Just long enough to change cars, so use the washrooms and get something to eat.

  MR. SHIRAZI leaves the table, presumably to tend to some trip-related errand.

  DAVOUD

  (whispering)

  Samira, I need to talk to you. Alone.

  SAMIRA

  Kids, you see that display case over there? Go and pick out whatever pastries you like.

  SAHAR and THE TWINS have little interest in the pastries and would much rather stay with their mother, but they follow her instructions. SAMIRA pays for the pastries, then shuffles THE CHILDREN back to their round table.

  SAMIRA

  Your Amoo Davoud and I will be right back. Just stay put.

  SAMIRA follows DAVOUD behind the teashop.

  SAMIRA

  Not too far. I want to keep my eyes on the children.

  DAVOUD

  They’ll be fine. Shirazi’s right out front. He’ll keep an eye on them. We’ll only be a minute.

  SAMIRA

  What’s going on, Davoud?

  DAVOUD

  Just follow me. We have to go where no one can see us.

  SAMIRA

  It smells like . . . oh, disgusting!

  DAVOUD

  Right here, behind the outhouse.

  DAVOUD opens the door to the outhouse to make sure no one inside can hear their conversation. There is a SMALL HOLE in the ground that serves as the toilet and a dirty pail in the corner. There is no toilet paper or washbasin. SAMIRA is disgusted and also disappointed since this is the bathroom she will have to use before they leave and she is menstruating. DAVOUD closes the door again and they walk behind the outhouse. DAVOUD zips open the small bag he has been holding. SAMIRA is shocked to see that it is full of STACKS OF MONEY. He zips open a side pocket and pulls out a large roll of duct tape.

  CUT TO:

  EXT. TEA SHOP, CONTINUOUS

  The men playing backgammon start a new game while THE CHILDREN quietly play a clapping game and eat their pastries. A woman wearing a kaleidoscopic garment and balancing a basket of fruit on the side of her hip walks up to the counter and sells some of her fruit. Another group of men in the corner smoke cigars and sip tea. The men playing backgammon keep looking over at THE CHILDREN. SAHAR looks back at them very nervously. MR. SHIRAZI is nowhere to be seen.

  CUT TO:

  EXT. BEHIND OUTHOUSE, CONTINUOUS

  DAVOUD

  Open up your rupush.

  SAMIRA

  What?

  DAVOUD

  Come on. Just unbutton those middle buttons right there.

  DAVOUD impatiently reaches out to unbutton the rupush himself. SAMIRA slaps his hand away and takes a small step back.

  SAMIRA

  What the hell are you doing?

  DAVOUD

  We have to tape the money around your belly, under your clothes.

  SAMIRA

  What? That’s crazy. Just keep it in the bag!

  DAVOUD

  No, it’s too risky. Mr. Shirazi might ask me what’s in it if we’re short on space.

  SAMIRA

  Well, okay, why can’t you tape it around your stomach?

  DAVOUD

  First of all, I told him you were pregnant.

  SAMIRA

  Pregnant?

  DAVOUD

  You’re less likely to be assaulted if you’re pregnant.

  SAMIRA

  Assaulted?

  DAVOUD

  You never know. Second, it’s possible we’ll be separated.

  SAMIRA

  Separated? Why—

  DAVOUD

  I don’t know. There may be a situation where the women and men will be separated or something might happen to me.

  SAMIRA

  Like what? What’s going to happen?

  DAVOUD

  I don’t know, my dear. I don’t know. But I want you to be prepared. Just in case. This way, if he sees you with your rupush off, he’ll see the bulge and think you’re pregnant.

  SAMIRA is still hesitant, but DAVOUD unbuttons her rupush. She looks down and watches with quiet reflection as his wrinkled, shaky fingers force open the buttons that are too big for the button holes. She is reminded of their wedding night. He lifts her shirt and touches her skin. Not softly. Not with romance. But to tape wads of money to her stomach. She clenches her fists by her sides. When the bills are taped, he takes a scarf out of the bag and hands it to SAMIRA.

  DAVOUD

  Wrap this around the money to smooth out the surface.

  SAMIRA gives him a pained look, but does as he says. He pulls her shirt back down and takes a step back to allow her to re-button her rupush. Then he dumps the empty bag into the garbage and they walk back to the tea shop. She is relieved to see THE CHILDREN are all right.

  FADE TO BLACK

  FADE IN:

  ESTABLISHING SHOT: VILLAGE OF SALAS, ON THE IRAN/TURKEY BORDER.

  INT. CAR, MORNING

  They are all squeezed into a jeep, DAVOUD in the passenger seat, SAMIRA,
SAHAR, REZA and RAUMBOD in the back with bags on their laps. Both women are in full hejab. MR. SHIRAZI drives. SAMIRA watches the faces of the villagers through the window. SAHAR and her brothers press their hands and noses against the other window. The dirt road crunches under the tires and traditional Iranian music plays on the radio. The narrow dirt road haphazardly circles and turns. Clay houses with small herb gardens frame women with colorful veils, a brilliant contrast to the streets of Tehran.