Towards the end of the summer, we went on a trip with Hamid’s parents. What a miracle! And what a pleasant week. Hamid was completely disarmed with his mother around. He came up with a thousand excuses for us not to go, but none of them worked. It was my first visit to the Caspian coast. I was like an excited child. Seeing all that beauty and lushness and, at last, the roaring waves of the sea, left me amazed and awestruck. I could sit for hours on the seashore and revel in all that beauty. Siamak, too, seemed to love being among family and in that environment. He kept leaping into Hamid’s arms and would come to me only if he was tired or hungry. He would clasp Hamid’s hands in his own tiny ones and his grandparents would become ecstatic watching them together. One day Hamid’s mother gleefully whispered to me, ‘You see! Hamid will no longer be able to leave this child and go after the things he does. Put the second one in his arms as soon as possible. Thank God!’
Hamid bought a straw hat, which we used to try to keep Siamak and his fair skin shielded from the sun, but I had turned the colour of copper. One day I noticed Hamid and his mother whispering together and he kept turning and looking at me. I pulled myself together. I had stopped wearing headscarves and chadors a long time ago, but I was always careful how I dressed. That day I was wearing a short-sleeved dress that was relatively thin and had an open collar. Although it was very conventional compared to the bathing suits women were wearing, still it was too much for me. I thought, They are right to criticise me; I have become too bold.
Later, when Hamid joined me, I anxiously asked, ‘What was your mother telling you?’
‘Nothing!’
‘What do you mean nothing? She was talking about me. Tell me, what have I done to upset her?’
‘Come on! They have really planted the seeds of tales of brides and mothers-in-law deep in your mind! She isn’t upset at all. Why are you so cynical?’
‘Then tell me what she said.’
‘Nothing. She just said, “Your wife is much more beautiful now that she is suntanned.”’
‘Really? And what did you say?’
‘Me? What did you want me to say?’
‘I mean, what do you think?’
He looked me up and down with a probing, appreciative look and jauntily said, ‘She’s right. You are very beautiful, and you are becoming even more beautiful every day.’
I felt a special joy in my heart and smiled involuntarily. I was so pleased with his compliment. It was the first time he had openly admired me. With some modesty, I said, ‘No! It’s just the sun. Otherwise, I’m always so pale. Don’t you remember last year you used to tell me I looked like sick people?’
‘No, not like sick people; you just looked like a child. Now you’re older, you’ve gained some weight, and with this sun you have a more beautiful colour. Your eyes are lighter and brighter. In short, you are turning into a beautiful and complete woman…’
That was one of the best weeks of my life. The memory of those warm, sunny days made bearable many of the cold, dark nights that were to come.
My Siamak was an intelligent, playful, restless and beautiful child; at least, in my eyes. Hamid would laugh and say, ‘There is a foreign proverb that says, There is only one beautiful child in the world and every mother has him!’
Siamak started walking and talking very early and with broken words managed to express himself. I can confidently say that from the day he took his first steps, he never sat quietly again. Whatever he wanted, he would try to force you to give it to him, and if that didn’t work, he would scream and cry until he got his way. Contrary to my mother-in-law’s predictions, even a child’s love and needs did not bind Hamid to his home and family.
A year later, I again thought of going back to school, but caring for my son left me with little free time. By the time I managed to take the final exams for my penultimate year, Siamak was two years old. Now, there was only one year left before I could receive my secondary-school diploma and achieve my dream. But a few months later, I was troubled to find out I was pregnant again. I knew the news would not make Hamid happy, but I didn’t expect the anger and disgust he expressed. He flew into a rage over why I had not been more careful taking my contraceptive pills. The more I explained that the pills did not agree with me and made me ill, the angrier he got.
‘No, the problem is your idiotic mentality,’ he shouted. ‘Everyone takes the pill, how come you are the only one who gets sick taking them? Why don’t you just admit that you like being a baby machine? In the end, you all choose this as your mission in life. Do you think by having a baby a year you can trap me into giving up my fight?’
‘It is not as if you have helped raise our son or spent any time with him that now you are afraid you will have to invest even more time. When were you ever concerned with your wife and son to now think your worries will be greater with a second child?’
‘Even your existence is a hindrance to me. You are suffocating me. I don’t have the patience for all the whining and whimpering of a second one. You have to figure this out before it’s too late.’
‘Figure what out?’
‘Have an abortion. There is a doctor I know.’
‘You mean, kill my child? A child just like Siamak?’
‘Enough!’ he yelled. ‘I am sick of this nonsense. What child? Right now, it’s only a few cells, a fetus. You say “my child” as if the kid is crawling on all fours in front of you.’
‘Of course, it exists. It is a human being, with a human soul.’
‘Who taught you this drivel? The old fuddy-duddy matrons in Qum?’
Crying and furious, I said, ‘I will not kill my child! It’s your child, too. How could you?’
‘You are right. It’s my fault. From day one, I should have never touched you. Even if I come to you once a year, you are sure to get pregnant. I promise you, I will never make that mistake again. And you can do whatever you want. But let me make it clear, do not count on me and do not have any expectations of me.’
‘It is not as if I have ever expected anything from you. What have you ever done for me? Which responsibility did you ever live up to for me to now expect even more of you?’
‘At any rate, just pretend I don’t exist.’
This time, I knew what to expect and prepared everything ahead of time. Mrs Parvin ran a telephone cable to Mother’s house so that I could contact them more easily and not panic like I had done the last time. Fortunately, the baby was due at the end of summer and during school holidays. We planned for Faati to come and stay with me the last few weeks so that she could take care of Siamak in case I had to unexpectedly go to the hospital. I prepared what I would need for the baby. Siamak’s old clothes were still usable and I didn’t need to buy too many.
‘Isn’t Hamid Agha around?’ Mother constantly asked.
‘You see, Hamid doesn’t have a regular schedule. Some nights he has to stay at the printing house and he often has to go on last-minute business trips.’
Unlike my first pregnancy, this time everything went well and on schedule. Knowing that I had only myself to rely on, I carefully planned and organised everything. I wasn’t nervous or worried. As I anticipated, Hamid was not there when the contractions started and he didn’t find out I had given birth until two days later.
Mother was exasperated. ‘This is ridiculous,’ she said. ‘It wasn’t our custom for our husbands to be at our bedside when we gave birth, but they would come to see us afterwards and they would show some affection and concern. But this husband of yours has really gone too far, acting as if nothing has happened.’
‘Forget it, Mother. Why do you bother? It’s best that he is not around. He has a thousand and one worries and responsibilities.’
I was much stronger and more experienced than the first time. Even though I was in labour and in terrible pain for many hours, the birth was normal and I was conscious throughout. I had a strange feeling when I heard the baby cry. ‘Congratulations!’ the doctor said. ‘He’s a chubby little boy.’
After I was released from the hospital, I went to my own home; it was easier for the children. I started taking care of two boys with different needs and I immediately took up the housework. I knew I could not count on Hamid. He had finally found the excuse he had been searching for. By finding me guilty, he had freed himself and relinquished the last of his responsibilities to me. He even behaved as if I was indebted to him. He rarely came home at night, and when he did, he slept in a different room and completely ignored me and the children. My pride would not allow me to ever want or expect anything from him; perhaps I knew it would be futile.
My biggest problem was Siamak. He was not the type of child who was going to easily forgive me for having brought a rival into his life. When I walked into the house with a baby in my arms, he acted as if I had committed the greatest betrayal. Not only did he not run to me and cling to my skirt, but he ran away and hid behind the bed. I handed the baby to Faati and followed Siamak. With sweet words and promises, I took him in my arms, kissed him and told him how much I loved him. I gave him the toy car I had bought earlier and said that his little brother had brought it for him. He looked at it with scepticism and reluctantly agreed to come and see the baby.
But my tactics didn’t work. With every day that passed, Siamak became more cantankerous and highly strung. Although his speech was almost fully developed by the time he was two and he could easily express himself, now he rarely talked and when he did, he mixed up his words or used the wrong ones. Occasionally, he would even wet his pants. It had been almost a year that he no longer needed to wear nappies, but now I had to force him to wear them again.
Siamak was so sad and depressed that my heart ached every time I looked at him. The shoulders of that three-year-old boy looked even more fragile under the burden of his sorrow. I didn’t know what to do. The paediatrician had told me to involve Siamak in taking care of his little brother and to try not to hold the baby in my arms in front of him. But how? I didn’t have anyone to keep Siamak away so that I could breastfeed the baby and he refused to be near his brother without being violent with him. I couldn’t single-handedly fill the void he was feeling in his life. He desperately needed his father.
A month passed and we still hadn’t picked a name for the baby. One day when Mother came for a visit, she said, ‘Doesn’t that spineless father want to give his son a name? Why don’t you do something about it? The poor child… People throw parties to celebrate the naming of their child, they seek advice and divination to select a proper name, and you two don’t care at all.’
‘It isn’t too late.’
‘It isn’t too late? The boy is almost forty days old! In the end, you have to give him a name. How long do you want to keep calling him Baby?’
‘I don’t call him Baby.’
‘Then what do you call him?’
‘Saiid!’ I said impulsively.
Mrs Parvin gave me a piercing look. There was concern and the glint of a tear in her eyes. Oblivious to it all, Mother said, ‘It’s a nice name and it goes well with Siamak.’
An hour later when I was in the bedroom breastfeeding the baby, Mrs Parvin came in, sat next to me and said, ‘Don’t do it.’
‘Don’t do what?’
‘Don’t name your son Saiid.’
‘Why? Don’t you think it’s a nice name?’
‘Don’t play dumb with me. You know very well what I mean. Why would you want to bring back sad memories?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe I want to call him by a familiar name in this ice-cold home. You can’t imagine how lonely I am and how thirsty I am for affection. If there was the tiniest bit of love in this house, I would have even forgotten his name.’
‘If you do this, each time you call your son, you will think of Saiid and your life will become even more difficult.’
‘I know.’
‘Then choose a different name.’
A few days later, I took advantage of an opportunity and asked Hamid, ‘Aren’t you planning on getting a birth certificate for this child? We have to give him a name. Have you thought about it at all?’
‘Of course. His name is Rouzbeh.’
I knew who Rouzbeh was and regardless of whether he was a hero or a traitor, under no circumstances was I going to allow Hamid to force me into naming my child after him. My son had to have his own name, so that he could give it meaning with his own personality.
‘Absolutely not! This time, I will not let you name my child after your own idols. I want my son to have a name that I will enjoy every time I call him by it, not a name that will remind everyone of a dead person or of an agonising death.’
‘A dead person? He was a champion of self-sacrifice and resistance.’
‘Good for him. I don’t want my son to be a champion of self-sacrifice and resistance; I want him to have a normal, happy life.’
‘You really are common. You have no understanding of the significance of revolution and the true heroes who travelled the road to freedom. You think only of yourself.’
‘For the love of God, stop it! I cannot stand your memorised lectures any more. Yes, I am common and self-centred. I think only about myself and my children because no one else thinks about us. Besides, for someone who accepts no responsibility whatsoever for this child, why is it that when it comes to naming him you suddenly remember you are a father? No, this time, I choose. His name is Massoud.’
Siamak was three years and four months old and Massoud was eight months old when Hamid disappeared. Of course, at first this wasn’t how I perceived his absence.
‘I’m going to Rezaieh with the guys for a couple of weeks,’ he said.
‘Rezaieh? Why there?’ I asked. ‘Then I guess you will also go to Tabriz to visit Monir. Right?’
‘No! As a matter of fact, I don’t want anyone to know where I am.’
‘Your father will know you are not going to work.’
‘I know. That’s why I told him I am going out of town to see someone who has a collection of old books and wants to sell some of them and reprint the others. I asked for ten days off. By then I will come up with some other excuse.’
‘You mean you don’t know how long you will be away?’
‘No, and don’t make a fuss. If we are successful, we will stay longer. If not, we might be back in less than a week.’
‘What is going on? Who are you going with?’
‘You are so nosy! Stop interrogating me.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘You certainly don’t need to tell me where you are going. Who am I to know about your plans?’
‘Come on, you don’t need to be indignant about it,’ he said. ‘And don’t create chaos. If anyone asks, just tell them I’m on a business trip. And around my mother, you have to act in a way that will put her mind at ease and not make her worry for no good reason.’
The first two or three weeks passed quietly. We were used to Hamid not being there and didn’t have any difficulties when he was away. He had given me enough money to cover one month’s expenses and I had some money of my own, too. A month later, his parents started getting worried, but I would calm them down and tell them that I had heard from him, that he had just called, that he was well and that his work was taking a little longer, and other such lies.
In early June, the weather suddenly turned hot and an illness similar to cholera spread among children. Despite all my efforts to keep my sons safe, they both became ill. The instant I noticed Massoud had a low fever and a stomach ache, I didn’t wait for Mrs Parvin to come and keep an eye on Siamak, I rushed both boys to the doctor. I
bought the medications he prescribed and returned home. But late at night, they both took a turn for the worse. They vomited any medicine I gave them and their fever was rising from one minute to the next. Massoud’s condition was worse. He was panting like a frightened sparrow and his small stomach and chest were heaving. Siamak’s face was flushed and he kept asking me to take him to the bathroom. I was running around in circles. I put their feet in iced water, laid cold towels on their foreheads, but none of these made any difference. I noticed Massoud’s lips were white and dry and I remembered the last thing the doctor told me. ‘Children become dehydrated much faster than you think and it can lead to death.’
A voice inside me said that if I waited another minute I would lose my children. I looked at the clock. It was almost two-thirty in the morning. I didn’t know what to do. My brain was not functioning. I was biting my nails and tears were rolling on to my hand. My children, my beloved children, all I had in this world, I had to save them, I had to do something, I had to be strong. Whom could I call? Whoever I called would need time to come to us and there was no time to waste.
The Book of Fate Page 19