I knew there was a children’s hospital on Takht-e Jamshid Avenue. I had to hurry. I put nappies on both boys, took all the money I had at home, carried Massoud in one arm, took Siamak by the hand and set off. The streets were deserted. Poor little Siamak, weak and burning with fever, could hardly walk. I tried carrying both of them, but the heavy bag I had packed made it impossible and every few steps I took, I had to stop and put Siamak down. My innocent children didn’t even have the energy to cry. The distance from the house to the corner of the street seemed endless. Siamak had almost fainted. I was pulling him along by the arm and his feet were dragging on the ground. I kept thinking, If anything happens to my children, I will kill myself. This was the only conscious thought going through my mind.
A car pulled up next to me. Without uttering a word, I swung open the rear door and climbed in with the children. All I could manage was, ‘The children’s hospital. Takht-e Jamshid. For the love of God, hurry.’
The driver was a dignified-looking man. He looked at me in the rear-view mirror and asked, ‘What happened?’
‘They were a little sick this afternoon. They had diarrhoea. But it suddenly got much worse. Their fever is very high. I beg you, please hurry.’
My heart was pounding and I was gasping for air. The car was tearing through the empty streets. ‘Why are you alone?’ the man asked. ‘Where is their father? You won’t be able to put the children in the hospital all by yourself.’
‘Yes, I can. I mean I have to, or I will lose them.’
‘You mean they don’t have a father?’
‘No, they don’t,’ I snapped.
And I angrily looked away.
In front of the hospital, the man jumped out of the car and took Siamak in his arms, I took Massoud, and we ran inside. The moment the emergency room doctor saw the children, he frowned and said, ‘Why did you wait so long?’ He took Massoud, who by now was unconscious, from my arms.
‘Doctor,’ I pleaded, ‘for the love of God, do something.’
‘We will do what we can,’ he said. ‘Go to the admissions office and take care of the paperwork. The rest is in God’s hands.’
The man who had driven us to the hospital was looking at me with such pity that I could no longer hold back my tears. I sat down on a bench, held my head in my hands and wept. I caught sight of my feet. My God! I was wearing house slippers. No wonder I almost fell a hundred times on the street.
The hospital required payment to admit the children. The man said he had money with him, but I didn’t accept. I gave the admissions clerk all the cash I had and I told him I would pay the balance first thing in the morning. The sleepy clerk complained a little, but in the end he agreed. I thanked the man who had helped me and told him he should leave. Then I hurried back to the emergency room.
Lying on hospital beds, my children looked small and frail. Siamak had an IV attached to him, but they couldn’t find Massoud’s vein. They were sticking needles all over his body, but my unconscious son wasn’t making a sound. Every time they pierced him with a needle, I felt as if they were stabbing a dagger in my heart. I covered my mouth with my hand so that my cries wouldn’t distract the doctor and the nurses. From behind my veil of tears, I was witnessing my beloved child slowly dying. I don’t know what I did that attracted the doctor’s attention, but he motioned to a nurse to take me out of the room. The nurse put her hand on my shoulder and kindly yet firmly ushered me out.
‘Nurse, what is happening? Have I lost my son?’
‘No, madam. Don’t upset yourself. Pray. God willing, he will recover.’
‘For the love of God, tell me the truth. Is his condition very critical?’
‘Of course, his condition isn’t good, but if we can find a vein and connect the IV, there will be room for hope.’
‘You mean all these doctors and nurses can’t find this child’s vein?’
‘Madam, children’s veins are very delicate, and it is even harder to find one when they have a fever and have lost so much water.’
‘What can I do?’
‘Nothing. Just sit here and pray.’
This entire time, with every heartbeat I had been calling out to God, but until that moment I had not been able to utter a complete sentence or to recite a single prayer. I needed to breathe fresh air, I needed to see the sky. I couldn’t talk to God without looking up at the heavens. It seemed as if it was only then that I would be facing him.
I walked outside and felt the cool morning breeze on my face. I looked up at the sky. There was still more darkness in it than light. I could see a few stars. I leaned against the wall. My knees were shaking under my weight. Gazing out at the horizon, I said, ‘God, I don’t know why you brought us into this world. I have always tried to be content with that which pleases you, but if you take my children from me, I will have nothing left to thank you for. I don’t want to speak blasphemy, but it would be an injustice. I beg you to not take them from me. Spare them.’ I didn’t know what I was saying, but I knew he could hear and understand me.
I went back inside and opened the door to the room. An IV was attached to Massoud’s foot and there was a cast on his leg.
‘What happened? Is his leg broken?’
The doctor laughed and said, ‘No, madam. We put the cast on so that he won’t be able to move it.’
‘How is he? Will he get well?’
‘We have to wait and see.’
I was going back and forth between their beds. Seeing Massoud move his head and hearing Siamak quietly moan gave me hope. At eight-thirty in the morning, they moved the children to an ordinary hospital unit.
‘God be praised, they are out of danger,’ the doctor said. ‘But we have to be very careful and make sure the IVs don’t come out.’
Keeping the IV in Siamak’s arm was by far the most difficult.
Mother, Mrs Parvin and Faati burst into the hospital room in a state of panic. Seeing the children, Mother burst into tears. Siamak was testy and someone had to constantly hold his arm in place. Massoud was still very weak. An hour later, Father arrived. He looked at Siamak with such sadness that my heart ached. As soon as Siamak saw Father, he reached out to him and started to cry. But a few minutes later, Father’s caresses calmed him down and he fell asleep.
Hamid’s parents arrived together with Mansoureh and Manijeh. Mother greeted them with angry looks and snide remarks. I had to glower at her to put a stop to it; they were embarrassed and upset enough. Mansoureh, Faati, Mrs Parvin and Manijeh all volunteered to stay with me, but I preferred to have Mrs Parvin at my side. Faati was herself just a child, Mansoureh had a son to care for, and Manijeh and I didn’t have all that warm a relationship.
Mrs Parvin and I stayed up all night. She held Siamak’s hand while I sat on Massoud’s bed with my arms wrapped around him and my head on his legs. He, too had grown restless since that afternoon.
After three difficult and exhausting days, we returned home. All three of us had lost a lot of weight. I hadn’t slept in four nights. I looked at myself in the mirror; there were dark circles under my eyes and my cheeks were sunken. Mrs Parvin said I looked like an opium addict. She and Faati stayed with me. I bathed the children and took a long shower. I wanted to wash away the agony I had suffered, but I knew its memory would stay with me for ever and that I would never forgive Hamid for not having been there.
Two weeks later, life was almost back to normal. Siamak was again being naughty, ill-tempered and stubborn. He had grown to accept Massoud’s presence and he would allow me to embrace him. But still, I somehow felt that in his heart he remained angry with me. Massoud was pleasant and cheerful; he leaped into everyone’s arms, didn’t shy away from anyone, and became sweeter and more delightful by the day. He would wrap his arms around my neck, kiss my cheek and with his few tiny teeth he would bite my face as if he wanted to devour me. His expressions of love were endearing. Siamak had never been as affectionate with me, not even when he was very small. His expressions of love always seemed constr
ained. And I wondered, How could two children of the same parents be so different?
Hamid had been gone for two months and I had no news of him. Of course, given the warnings he had offered before he left, I was not worried. But his parents were starting to be nervous again. I was forced to tell them that he had called, that he was well and that he didn’t know how much longer his project would keep him away.
‘But what sort of work is this?’ his mother asked angrily. Then she turned to her husband and said, ‘Stop by the printing house and find out where they have sent him and why it is taking so long.’
Another two weeks went by. One day a man telephoned and said, ‘I’m sorry to disturb you, but I wanted to know if you have any news of Shahrzad and Mehdi.’
‘Shahrzad? No. Who are you?’ I asked.
‘I am her brother. We are very worried. They said they were going to Mashad for two weeks, but it has been two and a half months and we have not heard from them. My mother is terribly anxious.’
‘Mashad?’
‘Were they going somewhere else?’
‘I don’t know. I thought they went to Rezaieh.’
‘Rezaieh? What does Rezaieh have to do with Mashad?’
I regretted what I had said and uneasily replied, ‘No, I must have made a mistake. By the way, who gave you this telephone number?’
‘Don’t be frightened,’ he said. ‘Shahrzad gave me the number and said that in case of an emergency this is the only telephone that someone might answer. Isn’t that the home of Hamid Soltani?’
‘Yes, it is. But I have no information either.’
‘Please, if you find out anything, call me. My mother is sick with worry. I wouldn’t have troubled you if I didn’t have to.’
I was starting to get anxious. Where had they gone? Where were they that they couldn’t even make a telephone call and put an end to their families’ worries? Perhaps Hamid didn’t care, but Shahrzad didn’t seem to be that thoughtless and uncaring.
I ran out of money. I had spent the sum Hamid had given me as well as the money I had saved. I had already borrowed from Father to pay for the children’s hospitalisation and I couldn’t say anything to Hamid’s father and make him more worried than he was. I had even borrowed some money from Mrs Parvin, but that was all gone, too.
Didn’t Hamid think about how we were supposed to live? Or had something really happened to him?
Three months passed. I could no longer keep his mother calm by coming up with new lies. With each day that passed, I become more and more worried. His mother was constantly crying and saying, ‘I know something terrible has happened to my son; otherwise, he would have called me or written to me.’
She tried not to say anything that would upset me, but I knew she somehow blamed me. None of us dared say that Hamid might have been arrested.
‘Let’s call the police,’ Manijeh said.
Terrified, Hamid’s father and I snapped, ‘No, no, it will only make matters worse!’ And we looked at each other. And his mother continued cursing and damning Hamid’s unsavoury friends.
‘My dear Massoum,’ his father said, ‘do you have an address or a telephone number for any of his friends?’
‘No,’ I said. ‘It seems they are all together. Some time ago, a man called and said he was Shahrzad’s brother. He, too, was worried and looking for information. But he said something strange. He said Shahrzad and Mehdi had gone to Mashad, while Hamid told me they were going to Rezaieh.’
‘Then maybe they are not together. Maybe they are on different missions.’
‘Missions?’
‘Oh, I don’t know. Something like that.’
Then his father found an excuse, pulled me aside and said, ‘Don’t ever talk to anyone about Hamid.’
‘But everyone knows he has gone on a trip.’
‘Yes, but don’t say anything about him being missing. Just say that he is still in Rezaieh, that his work assignment is taking longer, that he is in regular contact with you. Don’t ever say you have not heard from him. It will create suspicion. I will go to Rezaieh and see what I can find out. By the way, do you have money? Did Hamid leave enough to cover your expenses?’
I looked down and said, ‘No, the children’s hospital bills wiped out everything I had.’
‘Then why didn’t you say something?’
‘I didn’t want to upset you. I borrowed some money from my parents.’
‘Oh, you shouldn’t have done that. You should have told me.’ He gave me some money and said, ‘Repay what you owe your family immediately and tell them Hamid sent the money.’
A week later, tired and despondent, Hamid’s father returned from his futile trip. Together with Monir’s husband, he had searched every town in Azerbaijan province as far as the border with the Soviet Union and they had found no trace of Hamid. Now I was truly anxious. I never thought I would feel that worried for Hamid. Early in our marriage, he had broken that habit in me, but this time it was different. He had been gone for too long and the circumstances were suspicious.
Towards the end of August, one night I was jolted awake by a strange noise. The weather was still warm and I had left the windows open. I listened carefully. There was a sound coming from the front yard. I looked at the clock. It was ten minutes past three in the morning. Bibi would not be outside at that hour. Terrified, I thought a burglar had broken in.
I took a few deep breaths, gathered my courage and tiptoed to the window. In the pale moonlight, I saw the shadow of a car and three men in the front yard. They were rushing back and forth, carrying some things. I tried to scream, but I couldn’t. I just stood there staring at them. After a few minutes, I realised that they were not taking anything out of the house. On the contrary, they were transferring things from the car to the cellar. No, they were not thieves. I knew I had to stay calm and quiet.
Ten minutes later, the three men finished moving the goods and a fourth man emerged from the cellar. Even in the dark, I could recognise Hamid. In utter silence, they pushed the car out of the yard, Hamid closed the door to the street and he climbed up the stairs. I had strange and conflicting emotions. Rage and anger had combined with joy and relief over his return. I felt like a mother who, after finding her missing child, first slaps him hard on the face, then holds him tight in her arms and weeps. He was trying to unlock the upstairs door as quietly as possible. I wanted to rile him. The instant he stepped inside, I turned on the lights. He leaped back and looked at me with horror. A few seconds later, he said, ‘You are awake?’
‘Well! What a surprise to see you here. Did you lose your way?’ I said snidely.
‘Great!’ he retorted. ‘What a warm welcome.’
‘Were you expecting a welcome? You have some nerve! Where have you been all this time? You didn’t even bother calling. Would it have killed you to send a message, a short letter, or something? Didn’t you think we would die of worry?’
‘I can see how worried you were for me!’
‘Yes, the idiot that I am, I was worried. But forget about me; didn’t you think about your poor mother and father who have been sick with worry?’
‘I told you not to make a fuss, that our work might take longer than expected.’
‘Yes, fifteen days could turn into a month, but not four months. The poor old man looked for you everywhere. I was scared something would happen to him.’
‘Looked for me? Where did he look for me?’
‘Everywhere! Hospitals, coroners’ offices, police departments.’
Horror-struck, he exclaimed, ‘Police departments?’
Mischief simmered in me. I wanted to hurt him.
‘Yes, with Shahrzad’s brother and your other friends’ relatives they sent photographs of all of you to the newspapers.’
His face was as white as chalk.
‘You are a lunatic! Couldn’t you do one thing right and manage things here?’
And he quickly started to put his dusty shoes back on.
‘Where are you
off to now? Well, I can just tell the police you’ve come back, and not empty-handed.’
He was gaping at me with such dread that I wanted to laugh.
‘What are you saying? Do you want to get us all killed? This place is no longer safe. I have to get word to the guys. I have to see what the hell we are supposed to do now.’
He had opened the door and was about to walk out when I said, ‘There’s no need. I lied. No one called the police. Your father just went to Rezaieh and came back without finding any trace of you.’
He breathed with relief and said, ‘Are you sick? I almost had a heart attack.’
The Book of Fate Page 20