The same young man Dr. Ameli had seen on his previous visit brought their tea.
“What about visas?”
“It’s all in there.,” Eskandary assured him. “They have a transit through Heathrow and a three months visa to the US. Once there, Rana can apply for a permanent visa, better known as Green Card.”
The word ‘permanent’ gave Ameli a jolt. “I wish I could arrange for them to live somewhere closer, London, for example.”
“We’ve already been over that, my friend. She could live in London, among other places, but after years and years, she’d still be a foreigner. America is different. Over the years, it has opened it has embraced citizens from all nationalities and is among the few countries to offer such a chance.”
Dr. Ameli remained silent.
“Don’t worry, my friend. America will be the best place for her,” Eskandary said, as though sensing his friend’s doubts. “No more self-pity, a positive outlook and that ‘can–do’ attitude will be precisely what Rana-jan needs to build herself a new life.”
Ameli nodded sadly. “I just can’t bear the separation. For all I know, the next time we meet, my grandchildren won’t even know me.”
Eskandary chuckled. “Oh, they will! W hen it comes to love, children have incredible memories, just like little puppies.” And he laughed good-naturedly. “Americans have the highest regards for family. The kids will grow up wanting to learn more about you.”
“I know so little about that country,” Ameli said, and the way he emphasized the word ‘that’ were as if he was referring to outer space. “I only remember museums, tall buildings, and lots of taxis.”
“That was a whole different experience,” Eskandary said. “America’s abundance of everything is attractive to the tourist. But to live there can go either way. It can be heaven if one is financially secure, and hell if not.”
“Speaking of finance, I want to make sure she won’t have to wait for money to arrive by mail. What about arranging some kind of a trust?”
“Absolutely. There’s no restriction on the amount of money one brings into the country. In fact, the more the better.” He raised his index finger. “Good credit is as important to those people as good name is to us. Here, they help when they know you. Over there, help is available only if you can afford it.”
Eskandary opened a different drawer and started rummaging through. “The other day, a friend stopped by. He’s a long-term resident in America and we had a chat about money matters. He answered some basic questions and I took notes for you.” He kept searching and finally pulled out a sheet. “Aha!” He adjusted his glasses and studied the note. “He told me plenty, but the bottom line is this. A savings account over there isn’t the same as here. Their banks pay minimal interest, and what little they do pay is subject to tax. But I still think at the moment that may be the best way for her to be safe.”
Safe? Ameli’s mind flew ahead and he could just picture those three, alone, and lost in a faraway land. How safe would Rana feel? He could provide her with comfort, but safety could not be bought. “Oh, I don’t know,” he said out loud as if exhaling the words.
Eskandary smiled. “What don’t you know, my friend?”
“None of this makes sense,” Ameli said and shook his head. “Despicable as it may be to live with a bigamist, I’m not sure a single mother living in exile is any better.”
The old lawyer nodded in empathy. “It’s only natural to have doubts. However, one may consider such hardship a small price to pay in exchange for freedom.”
Dr. Ameli could sense how somewhere among those shrewd “however”s and “ buts” his friend was trying to help him overcome his broken heart.
Eskandary studied him with deep concern. “You look tired. Have you been sleeping enough?”
Ameli smiled. “I’m fine.” But he wasn’t, and knew he had not convinced his friend, either.
Eskandary opened the window and reached into a small box and produced a pack of Kent cigarettes and a tiny book of matches. “As long as we’re putting so much pressure on you, we might as well break the office rule and enjoy one of these,” he said with a coy smile.
Ameli had lost count of the years since he quit, but he still enjoyed a puff now and then. Whenever his wife objected that cigarettes were poison for his heart, he said an occasional cigarette calmed his nerves. “I’d rather die a little sooner and in peace than be old and grumpy.”
The lawyer lit two cigarettes and offered one to him. Oh, that smell of a freshly lit match and his first puff were enough to bring back the desire to be a smoker again.
The two sat back in silence for a while.
Eskandary gave him two more copies of the birth certificate. “Rana will need an official translation of this for long term use.”
Long term. He stared at the familiar lion-and-sun. Having grown up under a flag with that lion in its center, the mere sight of it used to make him feel secure. But now something about the way that lion held his sword in the air gave him a shudder. It was as though the little beast had raised it with the intention to sever the cord that tied him to Rana. He placed the documents back on the table. “I don’t know!” he repeated.
The lawyer slid a paper across the desk. “Would you mind signing the receipt for me?”
Ameli nodded and took the pen offered him.
“You should go ahead and confirm your flights,” Eskandary said. “Have you decided on a tentative date yet?”
“I’m hoping for next month, but will need to double check with a colleague who’ll cover my emergencies,” Ameli said. He felt like someone standing at the edge, ready to dive, unsure if what he saw below was not just a mirage. His next words came out of nowhere. “What kind of assurance do we have that she’ll get her divorce?”
The lawyer tapped his pen on the pad of paper and Ameli knew this to be his way of dealing with doubts. “All I can tell you is that I’ve seen it done multiple times. It will be a long process. First she will have to deal with the obstacles we talked about: establishing residency, enrollment in school, and settling down in general. Once she reaches that stage, she will be ready to find herself a lawyer and file for divorce.”
“What if Farhad goes after her? She can’t possibly claim abandonment, as you’ve suggested. He’ll drag her right back here.”
Eskandary raised the palm of one hand. “Wait a minute,” he said and smiled incredulously. “It’s not that simple. For one thing, he’ll have a hard time tracking her in a country he knows nothing about. But even if he should find her, she’ll be in the free world and with her own set of rights. He can’t just ‘drag her’ any where.”
Ameli wished some of that confidence would rub off on him.
The lawyer said, “Once she is out of this country’s jurisdiction, I can’t imagine what the man could possibly do about it.” He thought for a few seconds. “But until then, my concern is what he may do here.”
“Here?” Ameli smiled sadly. “With the kids gone and Rana making absolutely no financial claim, what could he possibly do?”
The lawyer did not seem convinced. “He is a shrewd man. He might go after anyone Rana cares about.” And he looked straight at him. “You, for one.”
“Now you’re getting paranoid,” Ameli said and chuckled. “What could he possibly do to me? He may be shrewd, but he’s not a criminal.”
“No, I’m not suggesting he’ll commit—God forbid—any crime. But what if he should decide to pursue the matter from a legal standpoint? Our original plan would not incriminate you in any way, but now you’re an accomplice. After all, it’s because of you that he’s letting the children go, and it’s your money that subsidizes the entire plan. Any lawyer could easily prove you as the master mind behind the entire scheme.”
“Nothing Farhad can do is going to hurt half as much as what he’s doing to Rana. And, I still doubt he’d stoop so low. I’ve been like a father to him.”
Dr. Ameli hoped his remarks masked the anxiety he felt. He
had seen his son-in-law’s mean side. Each time he thought about Moradi’s possible reaction, a memory from his childhood came to his mind. Once, their gardener had spotted the children throwing rocks at a garden snake and cautioned them. “One can kill those things, but don’t ever wound a snake. A wounded snake will not rest until he has found his attacker and retaliated.” He remembered the many nights when he lay awake and imagined a snake coiled under his bed. Days weren’t any better, either. The slightest rustling in the grass brought him images of a crawling presence. He never saw one, but now the images were back. Unable to sleep at night, he sometimes listened to his wife’s calm breathing and tried to imagine what his son-in-law might do if and when he found out.
Eskandary left his chair, circled the desk, and put a heavy hand on his arm. “No matter what happens, don’t you ever doubt what a great father you’ve been.”
Ameli nodded and gave his friend’s hand a pat. He picked up the passports, stuffed them into his breast pocket and would not look at Eskandary. As he rushed out with a quick ‘thank you’, he was grateful for the man’s silence. One more word of compassion and he knew he would have broken into sobs.
Out on the street, he passed his parked car, and turning away from traffic, walked along a side street. Dusk had fallen and the evening breeze cooled his flushed face, dried his tears, and soothed some of his pain. He walked and walked, feeling a heat where those passports lay in his pocket, as if they had ignited a fire and would burn a hole into his heart.
Moradi stopped by the house at dawn to pick up some of Vida’s school supplies before going to the barracks. He grabbed the bag Dayeh had packed, and rushed to his car. He had just put the Jeep in reverse when he heard Dayeh’s voice outside the driver’s side. “Excuse me, Major,” she said while tapping on the glass.
He lowered the window. “What is it?”
She hesitated as if unsure how to word her question. “How long will Miss Rana and the young ladies be gone on their trip, sir?”
Considering the old woman’s close relationship with Rana, he found it odd that she didn’t know.
“I’d imagine a few weeks. Why?”
“Oh, nothing, sir. That’s what Miss Rana said, too. Just making sure I had heard her right.” Then as if still skeptical, she said, “Will that be long enough for the doctors to fix the baby’s …umm… problem?”
He let go of the brake and started to back up. “W ho knows?” And he was gone before the old woman made him late for work.
Lately, a few changes around the household puzzled him. It had started when Rana came back from Tehran acting as if their previous unpleasant encounters were figments of his imagination. He figured her parents must have talked some sense into her. The new Rana seemed more content, befriended American officers’ wives and her English had improved so quickly that she now read books. W hen they lost Marjan, though he knew her enough to imagine how badly her heart had broken, she didn’t grieve. In fact, he couldn’t recall her crying at all. Had the shock helped her to finally grow up and mature? Was that why she had stopped making long, annoying phone calls to her mother? On the last bill he noticed most of her calls to Tehran were no more than a few minutes long.
Even the old nanny’s behavior had changed. He no longer overheard her chatting with Rana in the bedroom, and on one occasion when Rana was on the phone, he walked into the house and could swear the old witch was in the hallway, spying. As for Banu, he was just waiting for an excuse to get rid of her and her big mouth.
Badri also commented on how Rana fussed over the new baby. “The way she handles this one you’d think she’d never had a baby before.” At first he thought that might be because of her baby’s malformed leg, but there was more. Since Marjan’s death, Rana spent most of her time in the nursery. For a while, he didn’t really care because in a way that gave him the freedom to be away. But when she sent Vida back to her sister-in-law, Badri accused her of picking favorites. “You know what, Farhad? I think she doesn’t like the fact that Vida is so much like you.” She chuckled. “She really is, except she needs to learn a little order.”
She had a point. W hen Moradi visited his sister, her organized household impressed him. The boys had more gadgets and toys than he ever remembered having, but their rooms were neat and at dinnertime they engaged in conversations. True that they were older, but they spoke of bikes and guns and fist fights, subjects that he could relate to. He could never understand the girls’ baby talk, or why they cried so much. Vida’s sweet nature amused him. Marjan had been different. He missed her terribly and grieved her loss, but she could never mask her resentment, and in a strange way, her absence made the house a bit easier to walk into. He had felt scrutinized under her accusing stare; it was as though she knew too much and questioned his devotion.
Suddenly, he felt ashamed of the way he was judging his dead daughter. Had Rana been a better mother, the child would still be alive. He turned on the radio and tried to shake his negative thoughts. Soft flute and dulcimer music played. As he relaxed, he thought of how his life had divided into two opposite zones. The difference between life at home and time with Parisa was the same as between work and leisure. Rana tied him with chains of responsibility and in the end, left him with a sense of inadequacy. Parisa strived to please him and her mere presence was enough to forget the strenuous hours of work. She made no demands and let him be himself.
Thoughts of Parisa, and the son they would soon have, made him dizzy with anticipation. With all the love he felt for her, he knew this one would be a boy! Despite her frequent hints that he shouldn’t build up his hopes, he’d already picked a name. They would call him Morad-Ali. Morad, for being his biggest wish, and Ali for that saint of all Muslim saints. “We can call him Ali, so it won’t sound funny next to my last name.”
His thoughts branched, grew and spread visions before him, and as if they had bridged the way, he soon reached the barracks. He returned the salute of the parking attendant, left his car for him to park, and headed toward the office building. The sun had already come up and it now spread over the red clay grounds that were sprinkled with water, raising a smell of dampness. The base had already brought in the day and somewhere behind the walls of the courtyard, soldiers were marching. The beat of their heavy boots echoed in the distance and the morning breeze carried muffled calls of their commander. In the hallway, Moradi saluted a couple of lieutenants and asked a soldier to bring his tea.
One look at the piles of folders, memos, and mail on his desk reminded him of the long lost order his office had once enjoyed. Working in and out of town, checking in at the house in case someone dropped by to offer condolences and rushing to Parisa’s had left no time for tidying his desk and putting the files in order. The windows must have just been washed and now the dazzling sunlight spread over the layer of dust on the file cabinet. He noticed the black telephone had started to fade into a grayish yellow and realized how the entire place lacked color. The brick walls, tile floor, and simple furnishings were a clear reminder of the bare minimum an army man must endure.
Before Moradi had a chance to settle in, his phone rang.
“Allo, Farhad.”
He recognized his mother-in-law’s voice. This number was for emergencies only, and each time a personal call came through, somewhere inside him an alarm went off. She sounded sad and he even thought she might be crying. It shocked him to realize that he had never seen that woman in tears.
“What seems to be the trouble?”
She sobbed and for a minute, made no attempt to respond. “It’s my husband,” she finally said, and the way she went on crying made him think the good doctor had died. For a moment he forgot their differences and prayed it wasn’t so.
“Please calm down and tell me what happened. Is Dr. Ameli all right?”
She cried a little more before clearing her voice. “He’s in the emergency room,” she said. “I’ve just come home to get a few things so I can stay with him. They’re going to keep him there for
a few days.”
“I’m so sorry to hear this. What happened?” “His heart …” And she sobbed harder.
Moradi did his best to be patient while Mrs. Ameli sniffed and blew her nose. She then told him that the day before, two pedestrians had found her half-conscious husband on the sidewalk behind his lawyer’s office. “They called an ambulance and the hospital called me.”
Moradi gave off a sigh before asking, “What can I do to help?”
“Would you believe it? No sooner had he opened his eyes than he called for Rana.” She cried some more. “Please, have her call me at the hospital. I’ll be going now, but should be back in the evening.”
“Why don’t you call her?” he asked.
“I did. She was in the shower and I didn’t want to tell her maid.” She sniffed more. “After what she’s been through, it’s best if you tell her in person. You know? Be there for her?”
“I certainly will, Mrs. Ameli,” he said. “I have an important meeting, but I’ll go home the minute I can.” He wanted to offer her words of comfort, but realized how distant he felt. He did not identify with Mrs. Ameli’s pain. This news worried him only with regard to the old man himself. “Please give the doctor my wishes for a complete recovery.”
For many minutes after the call, he sat there unable to focus on his work. He worried for the old man, but why did he have to be the bearer of bad news? Rana wasn’t yet over Marjan’s death, how would she react to another trauma?
There was a knock on the door and a soldier brought in tea. He dismissed the boy with a wave of one hand while his other hand picked up the receiver to dial Parisa’s number. It took her a while to pick up, and she sounded as if she’d gone back to sleep. He lowered his voice, not to be overheard in the hallway. “Sorry to wake you up, but I’m afraid I won’t be joining you for lunch. Something urgent has come up.”
He told her the news briefly and concluded, “I’m sure the old man will be okay, but under the circumstances, I think I’ll have to stay at the house again.”
Moon Daughter Page 17