by Ehsaneh Sadr
Maman-Mehri still looked stricken. She whispered, “How did she find you?”
Sadegh grimaced. “She was working for Ali’s sister.”
Maman-Mehri clutched her chest. “Ah! That family again. They’ll stop at nothing!”
Sadegh didn’t know what to say. Sumayeh remained silent. Perhaps now she recognized her mistake.
Maman-Mehri’s breath caught. “I don’t feel well. This is too much for me to bear. I need to go inside.”
Maman-Mehri turned to go but stumbled lightly at her first step. Sumayeh grabbed her and supported her inside with a backward glance at Sadegh that he couldn’t quite read.
Alone in the garden, Sadegh looked up at the blue afternoon sky and prayed.
* * *
By the time Sadegh walked back in the house, the family luncheon had broken up. Sarah and her family as well as his brother’s family had already left. His brothers-in-law were quietly conversing in the family room, but he didn’t see his sisters, Sumayeh, or Maman-Mehri. Sadegh walked down the hallway toward the bedrooms. As he passed the guest room, he heard women’s voices, Sumayeh’s among them, speaking quietly.
Sadegh knocked lightly at the door and called, “Sumayeh?”
“Janam. Come in.”
Sadegh pushed the door open and saw Sumayeh sitting on the bed with his two sisters, who looked up at him with more interest than usual.
“We should go,” Sadegh said. “Where’s Maman-Mehri?”
“It’s better not to disturb her,” Sumayeh answered. “She went to her room to sleep.”
“Are you sure? I think maybe I should talk to her,” Sadegh said.
“No, trust me, azizam. Let her rest and give her some space for now.”
Sadegh might have protested further, but his sisters’ vigorous nods suggested that all three women were in agreement about the best course of action. “Well, okay, then I guess we should go.”
“Yes,” Sumayeh agreed. “Can you take the baby out to the car? I’ll get Mahdi and join you in just a minute.”
Sadegh bade his sisters goodbye and picked up Sana, who’d been toddling around the bed. He made his way out of the house and into the car, where he waited impatiently for Sumayeh and Mahdi. The baby entertained herself with the steering wheel, gear shift, and other knobs and switches, managing to turn the radio on in the process, just in time for the top-of-the-hour news report.
President Ahmadinejad’s office was promising a thorough investigation into the possible “evil intent” of five British sailors that had entered Iranian waters the previous week. Sadegh felt glad to have strong leaders protecting the country during these dangerous times when outside powers kept trying to meddle in Iranian affairs. Just this morning, Sadegh had read about the US pressuring other International Atomic Energy Association board members into a resolution condemning Iran for uranium enrichment in violation of nuclear agreements. He was certain this was an American plan to foment more support for the flailing Green revolution by getting other countries to go along with additional sanctions, thereby weakening Iran’s economy and increasing dissatisfaction among the general public. The supposed yacht club “sailors” were probably spies sent to gather information and coordinate plans with Green Wave leaders.
The baby started fussing, and Sadegh dug through the diaper bag to find some treats to distract her with. By the time Sumayeh and Mahdi finally made it to the car, Sadegh was thoroughly irritated.
“Sorry you were waiting so long,” Sumayeh apologized. “Mahdi was hiding, and I couldn’t find him.”
Sadegh was sure that hadn’t been the only delay and wondered how long Sumayeh’s conversation with his sisters had taken. But he didn’t say anything and simply waited for the kids to be situated in their car seats and his wife to settle in beside him before starting the car.
“Okay,” Sumayeh said. “I talked to your sisters, and we’ve got it all figured out. You’ll invite Leila and her mother over for lunch sometime this week, and Zainab and Fati will come too, so we can figure out what these women are up to.”
“What!” Sadegh had already guessed that Sumayeh was filling his sisters in. But he couldn’t believe she was making all these decisions without consulting him. Before he could say any more, Mahdi piped up from the back seat.
“Who did you invite?”
Sumayeh ignored him and turned to Sadegh. “You’re upset? I thought you would be happy.”
Mahdi asked again. “Who’s coming to lunch?”
Sadegh answered his wife. “Happy? For what? That you’re telling the whole world about this?”
Sumayeh looked disbelieving. “How are your sisters the whole world? Of course, I told them. What am I supposed to do? Just let everyone go on thinking that you were having some sort of . . .”
Mahdi, unused to being ignored, was now kicking at the seat in front of him as he complained. “Tell me who’s coming!”
Sumayeh sighed and turned to answer their son. “Mahdi-jaan, it hurts my back when you kick my chair. We’re talking about having some ladies over. There won’t be any kids, and it will be while you are at school.”
Mahdi stopped kicking the chair but pouted. “Why don’t you invite kids? You never invite kids!”
“We can talk about that another time,” Sumayeh answered calmly. “Right now, your father and I are having an adult conversation.”
But Sadegh, who didn’t feel like talking anymore, said quietly to his wife. “It’s okay. We can talk later. Just so long as Maman-Mehri isn’t involved.” Then he looked at his son in the rearview mirror and asked more loudly. “So tell me. Who would you like to invite?”
* * *
It wasn’t an easy week. As Sumayeh busied herself with plans and preparations for the upcoming luncheon, Sadegh was reminded of another reason he’d avoided telling her about things in the first place. Sumayeh was always so sure she knew exactly what to do and proceeded with complete confidence that God would ensure the outcome. Sumayeh’s only concession, and this due to his sisters’ insistence combined with his own, was to avoid mentioning the get-together to his mother.
The luncheon was set for Wednesday afternoon. By Tuesday night, Sumayeh had almost everything ready. A delicious stew of beef, beans, and various green herbs was in a pot to be warmed up the next day. The house was clean, and the table was set with the elegant English dishware that Sadegh had showcased in the family’s stores a few years back. All that was left was to make a salad and rice and pick up the kabobs that would round out the meal.
They were in the midst of these final preparations the following day when the doorbell buzzed.
Sumayeh looked at Sadegh in surprise. “Could that be Ms. Tabibian? It couldn’t be your sisters. Their prayer meeting won’t be over until noon at the earliest.”
“I don’t think so,” Sadegh answered. “It’s still early.”
Sumayeh picked up the intercom handset and asked. “Yes? Who is it?”
Sumayeh’s eyebrows tugged at her scar as they flew upward in surprise. “It’s your mother!” she said as she buzzed the door open.
“Really?” Sadegh said. “I thought I told Leila to come at—”
“No, Sadegh,” Sumayeh interrupted him, shaking her caramel-blond hair and looking at Sadegh with a mix of worry and compassion that delivered her meaning along with a jolt of adrenaline.
“Maman-Mehri?” Sadegh asked, his heart racing. “Since when does she drop by unannounced in the middle of the week?”
Sumayeh gave Sadegh an encouraging smile that dimpled her unmarred cheek and said “I don’t know. But don’t worry. Maybe she won’t stay long. Let’s trust in God’s plan and figure this out together. Tavakol be khoda.”
Sadegh immediately repented for all his complaints, voiced and unvoiced, against his wife. Here she stood, his faithful partner in all that would come, helping him remember that
the outcome was not in his hands. Perhaps she was right. Perhaps there was a reason for all of this. Perhaps he truly did need to trust in God. He took a deep breath to try to slow his racing heart beat and said, “Kheili dooset daram. I love you so much.”
Sumayeh smiled at him again but didn’t answer, as Maman-Mehri had now reached the door.
After walking up the flight of steps to their unit, Maman-Mehri was breathing heavily. She didn’t seem particularly surprised to see Sadegh home in the middle of the day.
“Salam Sadegh, Sumayeh-joon. How are you?” Not waiting for an answer, she continued. “Sorry to drop in on you. I was on my way home from the prayer meeting. I left a little early because it was so crowded and hot today I just couldn’t bear it. I haven’t been feeling well, you know, so I thought I’d go home and lay down. But then,” Maman-Mehri cleared her throat, “I thought I’d stop by . . . to say hello.”
Ignoring the awkward note in Maman-Mehri’s voice, Sumayeh thanked her for coming and kissed her in greeting. “Come sit down.” Sumayeh invited Maman-Mehri into the living room.
Maman-Mehri shuffled in and lifted her black chador slightly around her so she could sit on the edge of the couch. Her short legs barely reached the floor. The coffee table before her held fruit, nuts, and small plates arranged in a perfectly centered row. Sadegh watched as Maman-Mehri took in the formal layout that was clearly meant for guests and then looked over at the dining room table, carefully set with the rose patterned china that had been part of Sumayeh’s dowry.
Sumayeh gave Sadegh a pointed look. Sadegh opened his mouth but couldn’t think of what to say. Maman-Mehri looked at Sumayeh, and then at the coffee table, and then at Sadegh, and then the coffee table again.
Maman-Mehri cleared her throat again. “Where’s the baby? Is she sleeping?”
“No,” Sumayeh answered. “She’s with my mom today.”
“Oh,” Maman-Mehri said.
Sadegh, Sumayeh, and Maman-Mehri looked at one another.
“Did you hear the news about the British sailors?” Maman-Mehri asked, clearly straining to make conversation. “They were released this morning.”
“Yes, I heard,” Sadegh said. They’ve already landed in Dubai.”
“Well, I hope they were actually innocent. Our leaders are too trusting and compassionate sometimes.”
Sadegh nodded but he wasn’t really thinking about the sailors. He was trying to figure out the best way to explain about the luncheon.
Before he could say anything, Maman-Mehri, gesturing to the dining room table, said, “You must have guests coming. Did I come at a bad time? I should go.” But she stayed in her seat.
“Maman-Mehri—” Sadegh began, but he was cut off by his mother.
“Actually, it was quite strange,” Maman-Mehri puzzled. “When Mr. Namazi from the taxi agence picked me up from the prayer meeting, he asked if we should wait for Fati and Zainab before heading to your house. He said the agence told him the ladies from the Hojjati family were coming here for lunch. I told him that your sisters would still be a while and then he just headed here without even asking where I was going.”
Sadegh silently cursed Mr. Namazi and the stupid taxi service that had served his family for years and had ruined their plans. Aloud, he said, “Yes, they’re coming by after the prayer meeting.”
“Well then,” Maman-Mehri said, hurt quickly replacing the confusion on her face at this confirmation that she’d been purposely excluded from their gathering. She rocked forward off the couch and onto her feet. “It seems Mr. Namazi has made a mistake. I should go. I certainly don’t want to be in the way. Us old people can be a burden. It’s good for you young ones to have these get-togethers without us. Don’t worry about walking me downstairs. I know the way.”
“How could you say you’re a burden?” Sumayeh objected as she got to her feet to stop Maman-Mehri from moving toward the door. “We’re always grateful for your presence. It’s just—”
Sadegh jumped in, wanting to be the one to tell the truth. “Maman . . . Ms. Tabibian is coming for lunch.”
“Who?” Maman-Mehri peered at him sharply.
“Ms. Tabibian . . . the lady that . . . gave birth to me. I’m sorry we didn’t tell you. We didn’t want to upset you.”
It seemed to take a moment for her to understand. But as she did, his mother’s mouth went flat, so she looked like the baby refusing a new food. She sank back onto the couch, readjusted her chador around her, and lifted one hand under it in question. “She’s coming here?” Her voice was weak. “To your house?”
Sadegh nodded.
“But why? What does she want with you? What does she want with Zainab and Fati?”
“Nothing, Maman-joonam,” Sadegh answered swiftly. “I just needed them with me to see what type of person she is.”
“You want to see what type of person she is?” Maman-Mehri’s voice gained strength but still shook. “I can tell you that. This is a woman who abandoned a baby for her own lustful desires! She doesn’t deserve a second of your time!”
Sadegh was surprised. He’d never asked Ms. Tabibian directly why she’d left. But from her references to having lost Sadegh, he’d gotten the impression she hadn’t had much choice in the matter. But Maman-Mehri seemed to be implying she’d left of her own accord. And that she’d left to be with another man.
Maman-Mehri licked her lips and continued. “That’s right. I’ve never wanted to mention it, but you should know. After all your father did for this woman . . . after all that she put us through . . . it turned out that all along she’d been with some gutter scum like herself. What kind of woman does that sort of thing? And then after all these years, when I’ve done the work of raising you to be the perfect young man you are, she comes along and wants to interfere in our family again?”
Maman-Mehri’s voice was teary. She reached for a tissue from the box under the coffee table and continued.
“How could you do this to me Sadegh? Did I not do enough for you as a child? Did I not care for you and send you to university and find you a beautiful wife and love you and your children? What did I do that would make you want to break my heart and humiliate me like this?”
As she spoke, Maman-Mehri seemed to squeeze her chador tighter and tighter around her face so that her cheeks and forehead bulged, angry and red, out of the small opening.
“You have no idea what pain I went through,” Maman-Mehri continued. “That woman . . . she is a devil! A devil! Thirty years ago, it took all I had to protect myself and my family from her. I can’t do this again!”
Maman-Mehri looked up, released her chador and raised her hands to the ceiling. “Khodaya! My dear God, help me. Give me death, my Lord, give me death!”
Sadegh was shocked. He’d never seen his mother like this. “Maman! What are you saying!”
“Death would be better than this! Your poor father . . . this is the first time I am grateful that he isn’t here to witness this.” Here Maman-Mehri broke down into loud wracking sobs.
Sadegh looked desperately at Sumayeh, who seemed to have nothing to say but kneeled next to Maman-Mehri to try to comfort her.
Sadegh tried to reason with his mother.
“Maman-joon, you’re making too big a deal out of this. She’s no threat to our family. She can never replace you. The truth is, I could never see her as a mother.”
“Then why, my son, why?” Maman-Mehri pleaded. “Why do you have to see her?”
“Well . . .” Sadegh thought about how to explain. “It’s her daughter Leila. I think she may be in some sort of trouble because . . . I don’t really know, but I feel an obligation to figure out what’s going on and try to help. The lunch was actually the ladies’ idea.”
Maman-Mehri was still sniffling but had calmed down a bit. Sadegh continued.
“I’m sorry we didn’t tell you from the beginning. But I�
��m glad you found out. It’s better this way. Why don’t you have lunch with us? You’ll see how Ms. Tabibian is for me . . . no more than a distant aunt or cousin.”
“No!” Maman-Mehri shouted. “I don’t want to see her. I need . . .” Maman-Mehri’s voice lost its angry edge and took on an almost childish whine. “I need to go home and rest. I’m not well. I’m really not well.”
Sumayeh stroked Maman-Mehri’s arm and said. “Why don’t you rest here? Our guests won’t arrive for another half hour at least. When you feel refreshed, you can decide to leave or stay and join us. It’s not for me to say, but it might be good for this woman to see you here so she’ll know there’s no hope of coming between you and Sadegh.”
Maman-Mehri seemed to consider the idea. “Traffic is quite atrocious. I suppose it might be better to take a quick little nap here. And then I’ll be up and out of here before anyone arrives.”
Sumayeh helped Maman-Mehri up, and the two of them walked toward the bedrooms. At the hallway entrance, Maman-Mehri paused and turned to faced Sadegh.
“I’m sure I’ll be gone before anyone arrives. But just in case . . . don’t tell anyone I’m here. If I feel up to joining you, I will. But I don’t want everyone pestering me if I decide I just want to stay in the room saying my prayers.”
“Chashm Maman,” Sadegh agreed as Sumayeh led his mother off toward the guest room.
* * *
“So, Leila-khanoom, why do you want to get married?” As was typical in Maman-Mehri’s absence, Zainab took charge of the gathering.
Leila smiled shyly and looked down. She had barely said a word for the thirty minutes she’d been in Sadegh’s home. Sadegh wondered what she thought of Zainab, Fatimeh, Sumayeh, and his aunt Mahdiyeh. They were all good, devout women that she could learn a lot from.
Ms. Tabibian prodded her. “Javab bede, Leila. Speak up.” Ms. Tabibian’s nut-brown hair grazed her shoulders in a layered bob that neatly framed her light eyes and pretty features. She wore a long-sleeved scoop-necked purple tunic over wide-legged pants with a green paisley pattern that Sadegh actually thought was quite nice but knew his sisters would find garish.