The Book of Fate

by Parinoush Saniee

  Hamid and I looked at each other and laughed. The two of them took a bath after Massoud and me. Their voices echoed in the bathroom and I could hear some of what they were talking about. It was so pleasant. Although Hamid had spent little time with us, the father and son had a deeply intimate relationship.

  Hamid was very busy for several days, but then he started spending much of his free time at home. It seemed he had nowhere to go and there was no sign of his friends. Like all men, he spent his days at work and his evenings at home. He was getting bored and frustrated. I took advantage of the opportunity and often asked him to take the boys to the park or out for a walk – something he had never done. I think those were the best days of my children’s lives. The experience of having a father and a mother and a normal life, which for other children was not something extraordinary or something to be especially grateful for, meant the world to them, and to me. Gradually, I became so bold that one day I even suggested we go on a trip for a few days.

  ‘Let’s go to the Caspian coast,’ I said, ‘like we did the year Siamak was born.’

  Hamid looked at me gravely and said, ‘No, we can’t. I’m waiting for news. I have to be either at home or at the printing house.’

  ‘Just for two days,’ I insisted. ‘It’s been two months and there has been no news, and schools open next week. Let the kids have some fond memories. Let them at least go on one trip with their parents.’

  The boys clung to him. Massoud begged Hamid to take us on a trip, even though he didn’t know what a trip was. Siamak didn’t say anything, but he held Hamid’s hand and looked at him with hope-filled eyes. I knew that look would weaken Hamid’s resolve.

  ‘Did you know Mansoureh’s husband has bought a villa on the Caspian coast?’ I persisted. ‘Mansoureh is always telling me that everyone has gone and stayed there except us. If you want, we can take your parents with us. After all, they deserve it, too. They dream of going on a short trip with their son. And we can drive there.’

  ‘No, the car isn’t sturdy enough for the Chalous road!’

  ‘Then we will take the Haraz road. You said the car is new; why wouldn’t it be sturdy enough? We will drive slowly.’

  The children were still pleading with him, but it was all over when Siamak kissed Hamid’s hand. We had won.

  Hamid’s parents didn’t join us, but they were happy to see that after all these years we were going on a family trip. Mansoureh was already up north. She spoke on the telephone with Hamid and happily gave him the address. And finally, we set off.

  Leaving the city, we felt as though we were stepping into a different world. The children were so mesmerised by the mountains, valleys and meadows that for a long time they each remained glued to a window and didn’t make a sound. Hamid was humming a song and I was singing along with him. My heart was brimming with joy. I said the prayer that is customarily recited prior to travelling and I asked God not to take away the good fortune of our being together. The car struggled up the steep inclines, but it didn’t matter. I wanted that trip to last for ever.

  I had made meat cutlets for lunch. We stopped in a scenic area and ate. The children chased after each other and I relished the sound of their laughter.

  ‘It’s strange,’ I said. ‘Siamak’s behaviour has changed so dramatically. Have you noticed how calm he is? He has become obedient and pleasant. I can’t remember the last time I scolded him, while in the past, not a day would go by without us having a big fight.’

  ‘I really don’t understand what your problem is with this child,’ Hamid said. ‘To me he is a wonderful boy. I think I understand him better than you do.’

  ‘No, my dear. You only see the way he is when you are at home. His personality is completely different when you are not there. He is worlds apart from the boy you have seen every day for the past two months. You are like a sedative for him, a tranquilliser.’

  ‘Ugh… don’t say that! No one should be that dependent on me.’

  ‘But a lot of people are,’ I said. ‘It isn’t something you can control.’

  ‘Even the thought of it bothers me and makes me feel anxious.’

  ‘Well, let’s not dwell on it. We won’t talk about it, we will just enjoy the beautiful days we have together.’

  Mansoureh had prepared an airy room with a view of the sea for us. With her there, Hamid couldn’t move his bedding to a different room and had to sleep next to me. We were all enjoying the sun and the sea. I wanted to get sunburned. I left my hair down and wore the colourful open-necked dresses I had recently made for myself. I wanted to again attract Hamid’s admiring looks. I wanted his affection and attention. On the third night, he finally caved in, broke his years-old promise and took me in his arms.

  That memorable trip brought us closer together than ever before. I knew Hamid expected more of me than just being a housewife. I read as much as I could and started discussing with him what I had learned from his books over the years. I tried to fill the empty place of his friends by sharing ideas and talking about social and political issues. Little by little, he realised that I, too, had an awareness of politics and societal issues, and he even came to appreciate my intelligence and good memory. To him, I was no longer a backward child or uneducated woman.

  One day when I recited a section of a book he had forgotten, he said, ‘It is such a shame that with all your talent you didn’t pursue your education. Why don’t you take the university entrance exams? I am sure if you continue studying you will make huge progress.’

  ‘I don’t think I will pass the exams,’ I said. ‘My English is poor. And besides, what would I do with the children if I were to go to university?’

  ‘The same thing you did when you were preparing for your school diploma. What’s more, the children are older now and you have more time to yourself. Take English classes, or, better yet, enrol in the preparatory classes for the university entrance exams. You can do anything you want.’

  After eight years, I was finally experiencing a real family life and I was savouring every pleasant moment of it. That autumn I took advantage of Hamid being at home in the afternoons and I signed up for the preparatory classes. I didn’t know how long his circumstances would stay the same, but I tried to take full advantage of those precious days. I kept telling myself that their group had disbanded and that we could live as a real family for ever. Hamid was still constantly nervous, waiting for a telephone call, but I thought that, too, would soon end.

  I still knew nothing about their organisation. Once, in the middle of a discussion, I asked him about it. ‘No, don’t ask about the guys and our activities,’ he said. ‘It’s not that I don’t trust you or that you wouldn’t understand, it’s simply that the less you know the safer you are.’

  I never again expressed any curiosity about their group.

  Autumn and winter passed quietly. Hamid’s schedule gradually took on a different rhythm. Once a week or once every two weeks, telephone calls would be exchanged and he would disappear for a day or two. In the spring, he assured me that the danger had passed, that none of the members of his group could be traced, and that almost all of them had relocated to safe houses.

  ‘You mean, all this time they were practically homeless?’ I asked.

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘They were on the run. After those early arrests, a lot of addresses were discovered and many were forced to abandon their homes.’

  ‘Even Shahrzad and Mehdi abandoned their home?’

  ‘They were among the first. They lost everything they had. All they had time to do was to save the records and documents.’

  ‘Did they have many things?’

  ‘Oh, Shahrzad’s family had given her so much in dowry that you could furnish two homes with it. Of course, over time she had given away many things, but there was still a lot left.’

  ‘After they left their home, where did they go, what did they do?’

  ‘Slow down! Don’t get into details and serious subjects.’

  During t
he spring and summer, Hamid went on a few extended trips. He was in good spirits and I was careful to not let anyone find out about his absences. Meanwhile, I was studying hard and getting ready for the university entrance exams. As much as my passing the exams made Hamid and me happy, it took our families by surprise. Their reactions were all very different.

  ‘What are you going to university for?’ Mother asked. ‘It’s not like you want to become a doctor.’

  In her mind, the only reason anyone would go to university was to become a doctor.

  Father was happy, proud and astonished.

  ‘Your school principal told me how talented you are, but I already knew it,’ he said. ‘I only wish at least one of these boys had turned out like you.’

  Ali and Mahmoud were of the belief that I still hadn’t given up my childish silliness and that my husband couldn’t control me because he didn’t have enough backbone, wasn’t man enough and lacked a sense of honour.

  I was soaring. I felt proud and confident. Everything was going my way.

  I threw a large party for Manijeh who had got married some time ago and I had not had time to have a celebration in her and her husband’s honour. After many years of estrangement, our families gathered together. Of course, Mahmoud and Ali used the excuse that women without hijab were going to be present at the party and they didn’t come, but Ehteram-Sadat came with her loud and boisterous children.

  I was so happy that nothing could bother me or take that smile off my face.

  My life took on a new direction. I enrolled Massoud in a kindergarten close to home and took care of most of my responsibilities at night so that in the morning I could go to the university with peace of mind, and without Hamid and the children lacking anything.

  The weather had turned cold. The autumn wind was knocking the tree branches against the windows. The drizzling rain that had started that afternoon was now mixed with snow and it was coming down harder. Hamid had just fallen asleep. I was thinking to myself, Winter has arrived so suddenly; it is good that I have already got out my warm clothes.

  It was almost one o’clock in the morning and I was getting ready for bed when the sound of the doorbell made me freeze to the spot. My heart started pounding in my chest. I waited for a few seconds and told myself I had misheard, but just then I saw Hamid standing in the middle of the hall looking panic-stricken. We stared at each other.

  With a voice that barely rose from my throat, I said, ‘Did you hear it, too?’

  ‘Yes!’

  ‘What should we do?’

  As he pulled his trousers on over his pyjamas, he said, ‘Hold them off as long as you can. I will get out over the rooftop and take the route I had planned; then open the door. If there is any danger, turn on all the lights.’

  He quickly put on a shirt and a jacket and ran towards the stairs.

  ‘Wait! Take a coat, a sweater, something…’

  The doorbell was ringing incessantly.

  ‘There’s no time. Go!’

  He was halfway through the door that led to the rooftop when I grabbed a sweater that was within my reach and tossed it to him. I tried to regain my calm and look sleepy. I wrapped a coat around me and went down the stairs into the front yard. I was shivering uncontrollably.

  By then whoever it was was pounding on the door. I turned on the light in the yard so that Hamid could see us better from the rooftop and I opened the door. Someone shoved the door open, dashed into the yard and closed the door. It was a woman wearing a floral chador that was clearly not hers, as it barely reached her ankles. Terrified, I glared at her. Her wet chador slipped down to her shoulders and I gasped, ‘Shahrzad!’

  She quickly raised her finger to her lips for me to keep quiet and whispered, ‘Turn off the light. Why is it that the first thing you two think to do is to turn on the lights?’

  I looked up at the rooftop and turned out the light.

  She was drenched to the skin.

  ‘Come inside, you will catch a cold,’ I said quietly.

  ‘Shh! Quiet!’

  We stood there behind the door and listened to see if there were any sounds coming from the street. There was only silence. After a few minutes, like someone suddenly drained of all energy, Shahrzad leaned against the door and slid down to the ground. Her chador spilled out around her. She put her arms on her knees and buried her head in them. Water was dripping from her hair. I held her under the arm and struggled to help her get up. She couldn’t walk. I picked up her chador and took her by the hand; it was surprisingly hot. Helpless and weak, she followed me and we climbed up the stairs.

  ‘You have to dry yourself off,’ I said. ‘You’re very sick, aren’t you?’

  She nodded.

  ‘There is plenty of hot water; go and take a shower. I will bring you some clothes.’

  Without saying a word, she went to the bathroom and stood under the shower for some time. I put together some clothes that I thought would fit her and took some bedding to the living room and prepared a place for her to sleep on the floor.. She came out of the bathroom and got dressed. She wasn’t speaking and had the lost look of a desperate child.

  ‘You must be hungry.’

  She shook her head.

  ‘I have warmed up some milk. You must drink it.’

  Silent and submissive, she drank the milk. I led her to the living room and she fell asleep before she could even make herself comfortable under the bedclothes. I pulled the blanket over her, walked out and closed the door.

  It was only then that I remembered Hamid. Could he still be up on the roof? I quietly climbed up the stairs to the rooftop. He was hunkered down under the awning of the small alcove on top of the stairs.

  ‘Did you see who it was?’ I whispered.

  ‘Yes, Shahrzad!’

  ‘Then why are you still up here? She doesn’t pose any danger.’

  ‘As a matter of fact she poses a great danger. I have to wait and see if she was followed. How long has it been since she arrived?’

  ‘Half an hour… no, forty-five minutes. If she was being followed, something would have happened by now. Right?’

  ‘Not necessarily. Sometimes they wait for everyone to gather. They don’t raid a group house without plenty of planning and preparation.’

  I was trembling again. ‘What if they raid our house? Will they arrest us, too?’

  ‘Don’t be afraid, you’re not involved. Even if they arrest you, you don’t know anything. They will let you go.’

  ‘But how would they find out that I don’t know anything? I guess by plenty of torture!’

  ‘Get these stupid thoughts out of your head,’ he said. ‘It’s not that simple. You must stay strong. You will lose your confidence if you keep thinking along these lines. Now tell me, how is she? What did she say?’

  ‘Nothing. She couldn’t talk. I think she is very sick. I think she has a terrible flu.’

  ‘Shahrzad and Mehdi had become too conspicuous. They had been identified. Their house was the first one that was raided. They have been living underground for a year and a half. They stayed in the provinces for a long time until we arranged a safe house for them. They must have been exposed again.’

  ‘You mean the poor things have been homeless for a year and a half?’

  ‘Yes!’

  ‘Where is her husband?’

  ‘I don’t know. They were together. Something must have happened to force them to separate… he might have been arrested.’

  My heart sank. The first thought that crossed my mind was that Mehdi knew where we lived.

  That night Hamid stood guard up on the roof until dawn. I took him warm clothes and hot tea. In the morning, I woke the children up a little earlier than usual, gave them breakfast and walked them to their school and kindergarten. On the way, I looked around me carefully to check for anything suspicious or unusual, searching for a hidden agenda in every glance and movement. After I dropped off the children, I bought some groceries and returned to the house. Hamid
had come downstairs.

  ‘I don’t know what to do,’ he said. ‘Should I go to the printing house or not?’

  ‘I think it is better if we act normally and not attract any attention,’ I said.

  ‘Did you notice anything out of the ordinary on the street?’

  ‘No, everything seemed normal. Maybe everything being normal is what is not normal. Maybe they don’t want us to be cautious and on our guard.’

  ‘Stop imagining things,’ Hamid said. ‘I think I have to wait and talk to Shahrzad and find out exactly what has happened. She may need me to do something for her. Aren’t you going to wake her?’

  ‘No, the poor girl is really exhausted and sick. Do you want me to call the printing house and tell them you are not going to work today? You can rest a little until she wakes up.’