The younger man opened the box for Arash, who sat in the front row. Arash reached in and brought out a small gold-colored key on a black string. The man walked down the aisle, handing each boy a key, making his way toward me.
“This key is important. It is a holy gift, for if you join us and are killed in this gallant battle, you will ascend to paradise. You will live for eternity in a place full of more riches than you can imagine; food, palaces, and beautiful women will be yours for all time.” As soon as he said the part about beautiful women, everyone cheered again.
“Place this key around your neck and join us. If this war goes on much longer you will all be ordered to serve, but now you can choose to join the struggle of your own free will. Serve your country and Hazrat Muhammad and this token will be your key to paradise, your key to heaven.”
We streamed out of the classroom. It felt like all the air had already been used by the boys jostling down the hall. Ebi had the black string around his neck, strutting around, holding the key where he could see it. Two boys careened into us, waving their keys in the air.
“Ebi, Reza, when are you joining up?”
“You heard what he said about beautiful girls, didn’t you? And they’re all virgins.”
“So they say,” said Ebi. “I’m joining this month. No matter what my mother says.”
“Reza, what about you?”
“I don’t know.” I wanted to be somewhere else. “What if they’re wrong? What if heaven is hot and dusty and you have to work all the time and there aren’t any girls at all?”
“That sounds like my life,” laughed Ebi. “Come on, Maggot, it’s gonna be great. We’ll be away from our parents and school, and if we die we’ll go straight to paradise.”
“Maybe,” I said, shoving the plastic key into my pocket. Grandma and Grandpa didn’t die in the war. They weren’t martyrs. Did that mean they weren’t in heaven?
* * *
For a few hours homework was a distraction. I hunched over the small table, reading while Mother prepared dinner.
“I saw Ebi’s mother on the way home this evening,” she said once she sat down. “She mentioned that the holy men visited school today.”
I stared at my plate. “Ebi wants to sign up right away.”
“And you?”
“I don’t know.” I pushed my vegetables around. “It’s not that I’m afraid. It’s just that it seems like a stupid way to solve problems.”
“You sound like your uncle. He left this house not a minute too soon.” She waved her fork at me. “Talking is for little boys. If the battle is just, fighting is noble.”
Something like a snake coiled quickly around my heart and squeezed. Just above a whisper I asked, “If I left, wouldn’t it bother you to be by yourself? Or would you rather I wasn’t here at all?”
“If you can be of use, I’m not afraid to live by myself.”
“Maybe I should go tomorrow.” I stood and dropped my plate into the sink.
“It’s not that I don’t want you here, Reza.” Mother’s voice was slightly softer, but it reminded me of gravel underfoot. “I don’t want you to shrink from your duty to God and as a man.”
Before I could respond, I heard footsteps in the hallway. We both turned and looked at the door. We didn’t get visitors. I thought of the tapes hidden in my jacket pocket. Then my heart leaped—maybe it was Uncle, coming back to make peace.
There was a sharp rap-rap-rap.
I stood behind Mother as she turned the knob. A large man in a dark suit filled the doorway.
“Are you Sameera Mirzai?”
“I am,” said Mother as she opened the door farther. I shifted from one foot to the other.
“My name is Bahram. I am … I was…” The man shook his head quickly, closing his eyes for a fraction of a second. “I am a friend of your brother, Habib.”
CHAPTER SIX
There was no sound in the whole world for what seemed like minutes. “I’ve been sent to inform you that there was a bombing and…” He hung his head, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath before continuing. “He died in the hospital four hours ago.”
Without thinking, I lunged for the man and grabbed his arm.
“No. No. No.” The same word kept coming out of my mouth.
Somehow the bones in my legs dissolved. He held me to keep me from slipping to the floor. “You must be Reza,” he said softly.
I stared at this man I didn’t know. This man I didn’t want to know or ever see again.
He led me, almost carried me, to the nearest chair and sat me down. Then he knelt so his face was right in front of mine. I stared at him, watched the tears gather and slide down his cheeks. His tears, like falling dominoes, triggered mine. He swallowed and cleared his throat twice. “He talked about you all the time. How smart you are.” He lowered his voice. “How talented.”
I couldn’t believe I was still breathing, or that the earth hadn’t tilted on its axis, throwing us into dark nothingness. My voice came out in a croak, saying the only word I knew anymore. “No. No. No.”
Bahram reached for my hands and held them in his for a long moment. Mother hadn’t moved, her hand still on the doorknob. Bahram stood and looked at both of us. “Habib was a great man and a great friend. Is there any way I can help you, Mrs. Mirzai? Can I wait until family comes?”
Mother said in a low voice, “We will be fine.”
“Are you sure? I’d be happy to—”
“I said we would be fine.” This time there was a ragged edge to her voice that made me look up and Uncle’s friend take a step back.
He paused, then took a package out of the bag he had strapped across his shoulder and handed it to Mother. He knelt down again and put a hand on either side of my face. “May God be with you.” As he went out the door, he said, “May God be with you both.”
“No, no, no, no…” I pushed my whispering voice deep, where only I could hear it. I realized as his footsteps faded, I had questions. “Did he say anything? Was he in pain?” But it was too late. Bahram was gone.
I looked up at Mother. She stared in my direction for a long moment, with one tear running down her cheek, but her mouth was a tight, straight line.
I heard her walk to the sink and do the dishes. After a time she came and rested her hand lightly on the back of my head. She said, “Sitting there won’t bring him back.” I didn’t respond. She turned and walked toward her room.
“Is he in heaven now?” I didn’t realize I’d said the words out loud until Mother turned.
“I don’t know. I hope so. I know, even though we may not understand, it was God’s plan.” My chest shuddered with another sob. “Go to sleep, son. The day will begin again tomorrow.”
I watched the door close behind her. What would my world be without Uncle? He loved me for all I am and for the dreams no one else knew. A world without him made me feel like an empty bottle thrown by the side of the road. Thrown away because it was made for a reason and now that reason was gone.
I wrapped my arms around my head, trying to keep the tears in, or at least to stay quiet enough that Mother wouldn’t hear. A picture of Uncle, dancing and laughing at a cousin’s wedding, brought a sob that almost made me throw up.
I don’t remember what happened after that. I remember crying and I remember resting my forehead on my knees that were wet from crying, but I have no idea how long I sat like this.
Eventually I pulled my head up. The apartment around me was quiet and cold; there was no noise from the street. Mother’s door was still closed. I moved to the kitchen. I stood in the dark for a long time before I noticed I held the package from Uncle’s friend.
All I had of Uncle fit in the palm of my hand.
Turning on the light, I fumbled with the package’s string. Inside was the hat we’d both worn a few days before. Under the hat was the wallet I’d given him for his last birthday. It was worn and smooth and fit his body.
Behind an identification card and a few bills were
a couple of pictures, frayed at the edges. One of me as a toddler sitting on Uncle’s lap—just what I’d wished for an hour before as I huddled in the chair.
I held the photo for a long time before slipping it back into place. Taking the package into my room, I put the wallet in my jacket pocket with the Thelonious Monk tape.
* * *
Making things worse, my songs vanished. I couldn’t even hum the rhymes he’d taught me. The circus of sound I usually carried around in my head was gone, leaving a barren field.
The family gathered a few days after we got the news. When Mother was out of the room, Aunt Azar said, “We all miss him, but it is hardest for you. You were his favorite.”
Then she hugged me and it all came crashing in. I couldn’t stop the tears. My throat closed up and my lungs searched for air. Auntie pulled me into the hall, away from the others, and hugged me tight.
“It’s all right, my boy. It’s all right to be sad. You honor him with your sadness.”
When I could speak I said, “Why him? I wish it’d been me instead.”
“There’s much we don’t understand. Maybe your mother is right and God had a reason for taking him.”
“She won’t talk about Uncle around me.”
Aunt Azar smoothed hair away from my face. “She misses him, though she may not show it.”
I shook my head, holding back curses I didn’t want her to hear.
When I could talk again I asked, “What about a funeral for Uncle?” When Grandfather died, we had a funeral and a big dinner. I remember flowers and fruit and halvah.
“We talked about it.” Aunt Azar wiped tears from her eyes. “Your mother and Aunt Bita decided they didn’t want to bring attention to the family—to the way he died.”
Something inside me twisted. Mother wanted me to go to war when my life had barely begun. She wanted me to go, possibly give up my life, but she couldn’t honor Uncle for standing up for what he believed. The heavy bag of misery I’d been carrying shifted from one shoulder to the other. My sorrow turned white hot.
When they’d all gone home that day, I brought up the idea of a funeral, but Mother shook her head.
“We will not speak of it again, Reza.”
“You may think you can forget, but I won’t.” I spat the words. “I will remind you for as long as I live.” I’d never spoken to her like this, ever.
I saw surprise flicker in her eyes, then she turned and it was gone. “I’m sure of it,” she said in a voice barely audible. We didn’t speak for the rest of the night.
In my room I took out Uncle’s wallet and hat. I looked at the photographs, the oath to remember still ringing in my ears. That night, and for weeks afterward, I fell asleep with the feel of his belongings in my fingertips.
Later when I looked back—and I had plenty of time to look back—I was amazed I tied my shoes or got dressed those mornings. Every day, I thought I saw Uncle on the street—a trick my heart played that made me miss him even more.
* * *
Ebi was sad for a few days, but soon he was back to the business of being bound for war. In early April, he grabbed me at school. “I did it. I joined up, Maggot. I leave in three days.”
All that was left of my world blasted apart. “Ebi. Three days? You can’t!”
“Come on, buddy. Come with me.”
“Your mother must be spitting nails,” I said, ignoring his begging.
“She’s upset, but she knows she can’t change my mind, and Dad’s proud.”
I sank down on the concrete step. “You can’t do this. This is not real.”
“How many times do I have to ask, idiot? Come with me. If you sign up now, we’ll be sent together.” He slapped my shin. “What do you have now? It’s just you and your mom.”
My hands gripped the cement, already warm from the morning sun. “And she acts like I’m not here.”
“Right, and it’s boring here. After we enlist, it’ll be something new every day.”
I didn’t point out that something new could also get us killed. Instead I said, “Uncle thought the war was pointless.”
“Yeah, I know, Maggot, sorry, but it still made him dead. Man, don’t you want to kill the bastards who took him?”
I looked at Ebi, but I didn’t answer. I knew revenge wasn’t the path Uncle would have wanted. But he wasn’t here. I was never going to get to England or America. Anger was easier than the ache of missing him.
The bell rang. Ebi grabbed my arm. “Just think about it. For me?”
I tried to smile. “Right, like I’m going to think about anything else today?”
That night Mother said, “I hear Ebi goes to training in a few days.”
“He told me.”
“His parents must be proud.”
I looked up at her. “What does that mean?”
“It means just what I said.”
“If you lose Father, Uncle, and me? Is it still a ‘good’ war?”
“Whatever happens is God’s will. He chooses the purest of people to be martyrs, because they are worthy of his company.”
I felt like I’d eaten a green chili whole. I took a deep breath to quiet the heat in my face and head and chest. “God’s will. How do you know what God’s will is?” I was at the window in three steps so she couldn’t see my tears. “Did God tell you why your brother had to die?”
“Stop that, Reza.” Her voice was high and shrill. She stood up and cleared my plate. I’d only taken three bites.
“It is unacceptable for you to speak that way. The voice of God will not be questioned in this house.” She kept wiping her hands on her apron, though I was sure they were dry. “Your grandfather would be horrified to hear you talk like that. He always said—”
“Fine,” I interrupted. I was so tired of hearing about it. “I’ll join tomorrow. You can hold your head high in the mosque.” I walked to my room and slammed the door, surprised by the decision I’d made. But I’d lost so many people who mattered to me. No way was I going to lose Ebi, too.
CHAPTER SEVEN
I woke before first light and dressed quickly. As I ran through the cool, empty streets, the wind whispered behind me, Do it now, don’t think anymore, do it now. I had to wait outside the recruiter’s office until it opened, but the man who unlocked the door didn’t look surprised to see me there so early.
“You’re here to sign up?” It was barely a question.
I didn’t say “I’m here to do what my mother wants me to do, because that’s what I always do” or “It’s the only thing left for me to do.” I just nodded and said, “Yes … yes, sir.”
“We have a group of boys going at the end of the week.”
He pointed to a table and handed me a stack of forms. A few I had to take home for Mother to fill out. The rest I did myself. I paused for morning prayers, and by the time I’d finished all the paperwork, I had ten minutes to get to school.
“You are doing a great service to God,” said the recruiter in a voice that sounded like a recording. “Come back on Friday morning. We leave at nine.”
I ran to make the bell and slipped into a desk beside Ebi just as class began.
He gave me a quizzical look, but I looked straight ahead. My mind was a thousand other places. Would I ever see the sun stream through the schoolroom window again? Would I see any of the other guys who’d left for the front in the last month? Would I kill someone?
I don’t know how much time went by as I sat daydreaming, but Ebi kicked me and motioned to the front of the room.
“Reza, can you answer this question?” asked Mr. Tarighian.
“I … I … I’m sorry, sir, what was the question?” My face went crimson.
“Mr. Mirzai, I know this is the first class of the day, but I suggest you wake up and pay attention.”
“Yes, sir.” I picked up my pencil and turned my notebook to a blank sheet.
Before I’d written a word, Ebi shoved a folded note onto the page. I opened it carefully. “What’s up?�
�� was written in his careless scrawl.
When Mr. Tarighian turned to the board, I scribbled on the other side of his note. “I’m coming with you.”
I passed the note to Ebi. From the corner of my eye, I watched him unfold the scrap.
As he read, he jerked toward me, sending books clattering to the floor. The noise masked Ebi’s low whoop.
Mr. Tarighian turned around. “Mr. Saberi, what seems to be the problem?”
“I’m sorry sir,” said Ebi. “I … I accidentally knocked my books off my desk.”
Mr. Tarighian raised his eyebrows but said only, “See that it doesn’t happen again.”
“Yes, sir,” he said, hiding a grin behind his hand.
After class Ebi waited until we were in the hall to grab me in a crushing bear hug.
“You happy now?” I asked.
“This is gonna be great!” Ebi danced from foot to foot as we walked to the next class. “We’re going to smash ’em.”
We left school in the afternoon, the exact same way we had for as long as I could remember. At the end of the block, Ebi stopped.
“Let’s get a soda and hang out in the market for a while. We can watch the girls on their way home.”
I started, “I can’t, I’ve got—”
“Homework? You don’t need to do your homework, stupid. Day after tomorrow, homework is a thing of the past.” Ebi laughed and walked the other way toward the market.
I hesitated a split second, then was right behind him. We spent two hours sitting on a low stone wall. The blue and yellow mosaics of the mosque glittered like sapphires as the sun dipped toward the western edge of the city. We shared an orange and some chocolate and watched women shop at the huge bins of almonds, cashews, and pistachios. We each bought a soda and when we were finished, bought another.
I hadn’t felt this normal since the morning Uncle had visited weeks before. I started humming. Being careful no one could hear me, I sang all the way home.
As I opened the door of the apartment, my mouth watered at the smell of onion and something else I couldn’t place. I was normally home before Mother, but today we’d lost track of time. I thought she might be angry, but when I came into the kitchen, she stood there with a thin smile on her face.
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