A Bitter Veil (24 page)

The only thing Anna had was plenty of time. Time to ruminate, to regret, to relive the past. She tried to pinpoint the moment she knew her life was in tatters. Was it the first night that Nouri had deserted her for one of his endless meetings? Was it the morning when he woke up, rolled over, and stared at her with disgust? Was it when he refused to let her stay alone and kept her a virtual prisoner?

She recalled a book written about the five stages of grief, and decided she was passing through them now, except she was doing so out of order. She’d already passed denial—she went through that when Nouri first started to change. Then she’d skipped to bargaining—if she tried to please, if she tried hard, everything would still work out. But of course, it didn’t, and she sank into a depression, the fourth stage.

From there she was supposed to find acceptance, the same resignation as Nousha. Except she couldn’t. Anna’s lifelong dream—to be part of a real family and have one of her own—had been destroyed. And that infuriated her. Indeed, her anger had bloomed like a hothouse flower, casting off petals of rage. But with it came clarity and a sense of purpose. Someone was framing her for Nouri’s murder. She could not permit that to continue. She must try to save herself. Or die trying.

Anna came to trust Nousha and one day she talked about Nouri’s death. “The day the Guards took Baba-joon, Laleh and I raced over to the house. I wonder now if that was the setup. Maybe that was when someone broke into my house and took the knife.”

“Yes, but who? Who wanted to kill Nouri? And who wanted to frame you?”

“Maman-joon never liked me, I know that now. But I don’t believe she had anything to do with this. She just doesn’t seem capable of it. Why would she kill her own son? Surely she could think of another way to get at me. And Laleh wanted me to be her best friend. Of course, that was before things started…” Her voice trailed off.

“What?”

Anna shook her head. “No. I can’t believe Laleh is responsible. The most important person in Laleh’s life is Laleh. And she was determined to leave Iran for London to be with her boyfriend.”

“So?”

“If anything, Laleh would want to keep on Nouri’s good side. In Baba-joon’s absence, he would be the one to grant her permission to leave.”

“If she is not married, she only needs a
ghayyem
—guardian—until she’s eighteen. After that she can get her own passport and go.”

“She just turned eighteen,” Anna said, remembering that they’d marked the day about a month ago. Nouri had given Laleh a beautiful gold bracelet he’d bought in downtown Tehran.

“Then there is no reason for her to care what her brother thinks.”

Anna mulled it over.

“Didn’t you say you thought your husband was working for the Foundation? Confiscating the assets and property of others?”

Anna nodded. “Most were friends of the family.”

“Well then.” Nousha flipped up her hands and flashed a triumphant smile. “There it is.”

“What?”

“It was one of them, taking revenge for what Nouri did to their family.”

“You think so?”

“What would you do if someone—who you knew and trusted your entire life—came to your house and stole everything of value? Perhaps arranged for one or two family members to be put in prison too, just for good measure?”

Anna frowned. She hadn’t considered that. “But why would they frame
me
? Why not Nouri?”

It was Nousha’s turn to frown. “Retribution. You know. An eye for an eye. The Qur’an exhorts Muslims to wreak vengeance on one’s enemies.”

“It’s possible,” Anna said. But she still suspected Hassan. “Even after Nouri denounced his father, Hassan considered him a threat. Probably because he was married to me, an infidel.” She told Nousha her theory that Hassan had waited until he knew they were gone, come in, stolen the knife, then had one of his compatriots stab Nouri. “Murder is just another part of life in Iran today.”

Nousha played with her lips, as if she was thinking it over. Then she shrugged. “Well, there is one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“They won’t do anything to you until your baby is born.”

Anna blanched. “How did you know I was pregnant?”

“You get sick in the morning. Your skin has a rosy glow. And you have a bump on your stomach. With the food here, there is no way you are putting on weight.”

Anna laid her hand on Nousha’s arm. “Please, don’t say anything. I haven’t told anyone.”

Nousha’s eyebrows arched. “Oh, but you must tell them. How far along are you?”

“I’m not sure. Three…no…maybe four months.” She was unwilling to recall the times Nouri had raped her.

“But you
must
remember. You are carrying Nouri’s child. An Iranian child. If they know that, they will not kill you. It is against the law. In fact, they will take better care of you.”

“Really?” Anna clasped her hands together. For the first time since she’d been in Evin Prison, she felt a surge of hope. Then she noticed Nousha would not make eye contact. She was looking down, as if something of acute interest had materialized on the floor.

“What is it, Nousha? There’s something you’re not telling me.”

Nousha looked up. Sorrow lined her face. “They will probably take the baby after it is born.”

Anna stiffened.

“They might give him to your in-laws. Or to a childless couple.”

Anna imagined Maman-joon or, even worse, a stranger raising the baby growing inside her. No, that would not, could not happen. It wasn’t until that very moment that she’d realized that, conceived in rape or not, she wanted this baby.

“Then I will escape. Somehow. And take the baby with me.”

Nousha smiled sadly, as if she knew Anna was simply spinning fantasies. “If the baby is born while you are still in Iran, it will be Iranian. You will not be permitted to take it out of the country.”

“No!” Anna cried. At her outburst the other women turned and stared. She drew herself up. The baby was hers, she thought fiercely, and she would do whatever was necessary to keep it.

*****

Two days later the ward hummed with anticipation. The women washed and dressed in clean clothes. It was visiting day, the one day a month when prisoners could see close family members. Anna tried not to pay attention to the buzz. She would not be entertaining any visitors. Laleh and Maman-joon would never come to Evin willingly, unless it was to her execution.

She sat on the floor as women’s names were called. One by one they put on their chadors and left the room. They returned about an hour later. Many were crying, their earlier anticipation replaced by grief or a gnawing look of anxiety. Anna was almost grateful she didn’t have to go through it.

When they called her name, she sat up in surprise. Who could be visiting her? She rose slowly, put on her chador, and went to Sister Azar’s office where she was blindfolded. “You are going to a special place.” Anna went rigid. Where were they taking her?

Nousha had told Anna about the visitation building. It was divided by a thick glass partition, with family members on one side, prisoners on the other. There was no phone through which to talk, and families communicated through sign language or reading lips. When Anna was finally told to sit down, she expected to be on the prisoners’ side of the glass. But when they removed her blindfold, she was in a small room, much like the room they’d interrogated her in when she was first brought to Evin. The Guard cuffed her hands and shackled her feet.

Her pulse started to race, and her breath grew short. Were they going to interrogate her again? Lash her feet? Or something worse? Maybe Nousha was wrong about their policy of not executing pregnant women. Her mouth went dry. Terror seeped under her skin.

The door opened and someone entered. Dressed in a Guard’s uniform, he kept his back to her. When he closed the door and turned around, Anna gasped.

Hassan walked to the table and sat across from her. He did not smile.

It took Anna a moment to regain her composure. “Have you come to gloat? You must be pleased how everything’s turned out.”

He hesitated. Then, “I know that you hate me, Anna.”

She didn’t answer him.

He waved a hand. “You think I am responsible for this.”

She still didn’t answer.

“Anna, I am not your enemy.”

Anna pressed her hands together so hard that her nails sliced into her skin.

“I have come at Bijan’s request.”

She reeled back. “Baba-joon?”

“He has been released from prison. He is back home.”

“What? How? When?”

“They tell me that you already know that Nouri’s death is being treated as that of a martyr. Because of that, they took pity on the family and released Bijan from prison.”

Anna’s anger welled up, strong and pure. “Are you saying that’s the price the family paid for Nouri’s death? That good came from it? Is that the way you fool yourself into thinking you didn’t commit murder? You disgust me, Hassan.” She would have spit on him, wheeled around, and stormed out of the room if she could have.

Hassan remained remarkably calm. “There are things you do not know, Anna.”

“I know you’re a killer.”

“I didn’t kill Nouri.” Hassan’s words were slow and deliberate. “But it is true he and I argued.”

“You were angry because I threw you out of the house.”

“No,” he said after a long pause. “Not that.”

She glared at him. How dare he try to dissemble? To manipulate the truth?

Hassan cleared his throat. “Nouri
did
work for the Foundation. And I
was
instrumental in getting him the job. At the time I thought it was a good fit. Because of his family’s connections, he knew many wealthy people. He knew what to look for, what to take.”

She snorted. “Including his parents’ home? Did you help Nouri betray his own family?”

“No.” He paused. “I tried to stop it. But the Foundation demanded he prove himself.”

And he did, she thought. “So I was right.”

“But not about me. Nouri and I argued because…” He swallowed. “…Nouri was embezzling what he collected.”

Anna felt like someone had suddenly slammed her head against the wall. Her voice cracked. “What?”

“The Foundation does not pay much. Certainly not enough to support you and the family. Most of the Samedis’ assets were gone. So Nouri kept some of the bounty he collected. The Foundation does not care. If a bracelet disappears, or a diamond necklace doesn’t end up in inventory, they look the other way.”

“Are you saying Nouri was a thief?”

“We fought bitterly about it. I told him he had to stop. He told me he had no other means to live. I told him it was exactly the thing we had been struggling against, exactly what the revolution was designed to purge.” A painful look came across Hassan’s face. “We were like brothers when we were young, you know. Nouri and his family always helped me out. Whether it was books for school, clothing, meals, even the occasional movie. I probably spent more time at his house than my own. I thought that helping him get the Foundation job was a way to pay him back.” Hassan fidgeted. “It isn’t a bad idea, what the Foundation does. But I did not know that Nouri would end up stealing from the people he was supposed to be helping.”

“So
you
killed him.”

“Anna, think clearly. Why would I kill him? I could have had him imprisoned. And I would have if—” He suddenly stopped.

“If what? If someone else hadn’t stabbed him? Do you really expect me to believe that, especially after what you’ve just admitted?”

“Anna, I was appalled at what Nouri was doing. But being appalled doesn’t mean I killed him. I didn’t. I swear it upon Allah.”

“Well then, who did?”

“I don’t know. But I know it wasn’t you.”

Anna jerked back. Her mouth fell open.

“You loved Nouri. You hated him too, the same as I. But you are too gentle to have harmed him. You were framed, and though I doubt you will believe it, I am trying to free you. So is Bijan. I understand that he has contacted your father in America. He has decided it is time for the family to leave Iran. Laleh will be leaving within the month, Nouri’s parents soon after.”

Despite everything, Anna felt the faint stirring of hope.

“I do not know when it will happen, or how. I do not have strong contacts in the new judicial system. Neither does Bijan. All I can say is that you must not despair. You have friends.”

Anna just looked at him.

“I know you are not Muslim, but a few prayers would help.”

The next day Anna and Nousha watched as the Guards dispensed packages brought by family members during their visits, mostly clothes that the women paraded for the others to see. A bitter edge crept into Nousha’s voice. “Of course, the Guards confiscated the best items for themselves.”

“Curious you mention that,” Anna said.

Nousha’s eyebrows arched into a question mark.

Since Hassan’s visit, Anna had been confused. She wasn’t sure whether to believe him. She told Nousha what he said.

“Why would Hassan come all this way to lie to you? He’s a busy man. What possible gain could there be?”

“I don’t know,” Anna admitted. “But if Hassan—or his surrogates—didn’t kill Nouri, who did?”

“I told you. It was someone whose wealth—whose assets—Nouri confiscated.”

“But how would they have known the precise times we weren’t at home so they could break in and steal the knife? And why frame me? It still doesn’t make any sense.”

Nousha frowned and hugged her knees, rocking back and forth. “You said his father is out of jail now?”

“Yes, but the family is ready to leave the country. Laleh is leaving this week.”

“The sister who just turned eighteen?”

Anna nodded. They watched as one of the women showed off her new underwear.

“How did she get enough money to leave?”

“I assume Bijan gave it to her.”

“But you said they didn’t have anything left.”

“That’s true.”

“So how are they paying for their emigration?”

Anna looked blank. “How much do they need?”

“Enough for airline tickets, plus the bribes to make sure they get the tickets, plus enough money once they get where they’re going. You can’t live on air.”

“In Laleh’s case, maybe her boyfriend Shaheen is helping. But as far as the others, I really don’t know.”

Nousha’s eyebrows went up again. “Well then, don’t you think you should find out?”

*****

A Guard took Anna to Sister Azar’s office the next morning. She knocked tentatively on the door.

“Come in.”

Sister Azar was behind her desk. Dressed in her black chador and headgear she reminded Anna of a nun. But, in most of the world, becoming a nun was a choice. And nuns were rarely jailers. Sister Azar was wearing glasses and, ironically, they softened her face.

“Please, Sister, I would like a word.”

She watched as Sister looked up from her papers, removed her glasses, and looked Anna up and down. “Yes?”

Anna swallowed. “There is something I need to tell you.”

Sister Azar tilted her head.

“I am pregnant.”

Sister Azar didn’t seem surprised. “How many months?”

“Over three months, I think. My husband and I…”

Relief flooded Sister Azar’s face. At first Anna thought it was an odd reaction. Then she got it. The women often whispered about being raped by the Guards. But Anna had only been in Evin for about a month. Not enough time. It was clear Sister Azar had made the same calculation.

“Well, congratulations. Inshallah, you will have a beautiful Iranian son.”

Anna gave her a brief nod.

Afterwards, Anna noticed a subtle shift in the Guards’ attitudes, especially the females. They were never nice, but they seemed slightly less abusive. They even brought her tea separately from the others. Without camphor. But Anna remained edgy. What if she was still in Evin when the baby was born? Would they take it away? She rubbed her palm in little circles over her bump. This was the baby that was conceived in rage. The baby she didn’t want. Yet the irony was that this baby was the one sure thing keeping her alive. In a way Nouri was saving her life.

Perhaps as a result of that irony, the rage Anna had been harboring towards him when he was alive largely evaporated. She wanted to remember the Nouri she’d met in America, not the Nouri he’d become after the revolution. Her rage now was directed toward finding Nouri’s killer. She wondered if that was the case with most people who’d survived a loved one’s murder. Even if they loathed the individual when they were alive, in death that person assumed a decency, perhaps even a sanctity, they never had in life. It was all becoming very complicated, she thought. There were no absolutes. Except the three she herself had mandated—she wanted to live, she wanted the baby, and she wanted justice.

*****

A few days later after breakfast, two female guards came into the room and tapped Nousha on the shoulder. “Gather your things and put on your chador.”

Silence descended. The women prisoners stared at the floor, the wall, each other, anywhere but at Nousha. But Anna watched as Nousha gathered her clothes, chador, and personal items. She squared her shoulders, and pasted on a brave smile. Anna put her arms around her friend. At the last minute, Nousha rummaged through her things, pulled out a book and placed it in Anna’s hands. “Remember me,” she mouthed. The female guards took her by the arms, and they exited the room.

Anna thumbed through the book. It was a Qur’an, written in Arabic. As Anna flipped through the pages, she blinked back tears. She passed the rest of the day in a haze of misery, unable to focus. That night she slipped the Qur’an under her makeshift pillow as a talisman, but sleep did not come. She was waiting for the sharp spits of the rifles. When they came, a single tear rolled down her cheek.

When she woke the next morning pain slashed through her stomach. At first Anna thought she was having menstrual cramps, then realized that couldn’t be. She tried to ignore it, but the pain sharpened, digging so deep into her belly she had to struggle for breath. She attempted to stand, but her head started to spin, and her muscles felt rubbery. A fog descended, and the floor rushed up to meet her.