Rooftops of Tehran (26 page)

“Not long enough.”

“I haven’t slept like this since . . .”

She doesn’t finish her sentence, but caresses my shoulder and arm lovingly.

“Your arms must be hurting from supporting my heavy head. I’m sorry. You should have woken me up.”

“I didn’t mind. You sleep like an angel.”

“You’re so sweet.”

“Your mother came up.”

“What did she say?” she asks, somewhat alarmed.

“Nothing. She smiled and went back inside.”

“She always lectured me about not having any physical contact with Doctor before we were married.” She shakes her head. “This thing has changed everyone. I better go talk to her.”

She stands up and hops over the short wall, disappearing into her house. I sit on the wall and think about how beautiful life can be.
God, I love her. Please don’t ever take her away from me
. I realize that I’m praying to the God I was cursing a few nights earlier, and beg His forgiveness.

I feel someone standing behind me. I turn and see Zari. She has the most radiant look on her face. Her head is slightly tilted to one side. In her gaze I discern a softening and serenity I’ve never seen before. She kisses my cheek and says, “Thank you,” and walks slowly back to her house.

 

 

I ace my first calculus exam. The boy who is sitting next to me keeps looking at my test and copying my answers. Cheating on tests is customary at school. Almost everyone in my calculus class cheats, even the smart students. They hold their paper up, or sit crooked so that the person behind them can copy their answers. I wonder how we can explain this national impulse to cheat. Maybe it’s more a matter of sharing than cheating. I’ve heard that people in the West compete at everything, and that you’re either a loser or a winner. In my country, we don’t have the same competitive spirit. Centuries of misery under the dominance of the Moguls, Arabs, and internal despotic rulers have conditioned us to stick together and help each other through unpleasant situations.

I let the boy next to me copy my answers.

Mr. Kermani doesn’t look me in the eye when he’s handing my exam back to me, after it’s been graded a couple of days later. I don’t think he looks in my direction even once during the entire day.

 

I’m already on the roof when Zari comes up and asks about my exam. I tell her that I got the highest grade in the class, and she laughs and looks toward the sky, as if she is thanking God.

“Why’re you thanking God?” I tease. “I did all the hard work.”

“You sure did. Good boy,” she says as we sit next to each other with our backs to the wall. It’s a cold night, and I put my arm around her without the slightest hesitation. She makes herself comfortable, fitting herself better into my embrace. “I’m so happy about your grade,” she says.

“I feel like I could do anything if you demanded it,” I tell her, and for once my words are confident.

She smiles.

We sit there for a long time without saying anything else. She falls asleep in my arms again. Her head is on my shoulder and her left hand on my chest, right on my heart; I hope my heartbeat doesn’t keep her awake. Both my arms are around her. It’s quiet and peaceful in the alley. A fall chill is in the air, making our cuddling that much more pleasant. I’m the happiest man in the universe.

I kiss her on the cheek. Her face is flushed, and I feel her breath on my neck. She opens her eyes. Our faces are a few centimeters away. Her eyes don’t seem heavy and sagging. They must just have been closed, like she was relaxing in my arms, not sleeping. I can’t stop myself. I kiss her on the lips, and she kisses me back. I feel her fingers caress my face, neck, and hair. Her lips are soft, warm, and full of love, a perfect match for mine. Her body moves against mine as she breathes and as our fingers lock. Could time freeze in this moment forever?

Then she suddenly stops, pushes me back, and runs to her house, crying, “It’s not right, this is not right.”

She doesn’t come to the roof the next night. I stay up all night, pacing the roof. I look inside her yard but there is no sign of her. I climb onto her balcony and look inside her dark room.

It is cold out but I don’t care. I will wait until she comes out. And when she does I’ll tell her I’m sorry for that damn kiss, even though nothing has ever felt as good to me. I’ll promise her that I will never take advantage of her friendship, unless she asks me to do it. I’ll apologize and swear that I’ll never kiss her again, not even after we get married. I’ll tell her that I was out of line to move so fast so soon after Doctor’s death.

Ahmed comes up on the roof and I tell him the story. For some reason seeing him makes me more frantic than when I was alone.

“I hope I’m not forever doomed to be without her,” I say.

Ahmed laughs and shakes his head.

“Why are you laughing at me when I’m upset? You call yourself my friend?”

“Your best friend, asshole,” he corrects me.

“Fuck you,” I sulk.

“Listen,” Ahmed says, still laughing, “you know what Faheemeh told me today?”

I don’t answer.

“She said she’s sure now that Zari is in love with you.”

“What?” I shout. “What do you mean? Did Zari say that, or is Faheemeh speculating?”

“Faheemeh is a woman. Women don’t speculate, they know.”

“How?”

“Don’t ask me. There’re many things we know about women but can’t explain, and this happens to be one of them.”

I feel calmer. “But why doesn’t she come to the roof?”

“Something’s on her mind. Maybe Doctor, or she feels it’s too soon, or that she’s too old for you. Or maybe she doesn’t know what to do with your cute ass.”

“Shut up,” I say, beginning to laugh. “Do you really think she’s fallen in love with me?”

“Why not? You have
That
. Remember, lover boy?”

I throw my arms around Ahmed and hug him harder that I ever have before.

 

 

The next night I find an envelope on the roof in the spot where we used to sit. It’s from Zari. The note inside reads, “My Dearest and Nearest: I adore you, but you should not be emotionally invested in me. I don’t want you to get hurt. With all my love, Zari.”

I suddenly feel as if I have been hit by a heavy fist, a blow infinitely more powerful than that of Mr. Kermani’s ruler. A bottomless abyss has opened up in my heart, making the world feel like a very lonely place. I want to cry, but fight back the tears with all my determination, just as I did years ago, holding on to my broken shin. Except this time I am holding on to my heart. I look toward the door to the roof of her house. I know she’s behind the glass window, sitting in the dark. I know she’s watching me, just as Ahmed knew Faheemeh was behind the wall on the night they were auctioning her off.

The temperature has dropped quickly, mirroring the way my life feels to me. A cold wind howls through the alley as if to warn of more freezing days ahead, more miserable days to come. The skin on my face feels tight and my fingers are almost numb, even though I’ve been keeping them clenched in my pants pockets. I jump onto Zari’s roof and walk to the large glass door that leads to her house. The windows are frost-covered, and I can’t see in, but still I know she’s on the other side. I use my fingers to scratch the frost off the glass. Backward, so she can read it on her side, my inscription reads, “I love you.” I see her face through the letters. She’s crying. She touches the glass with her hand and I press my palm to mirror hers, then she disappears from my sight.

I go back to the wall that separates our houses. I know she’s watching me, and I’m determined to freeze to death if I have to, but I will not leave until she comes out. Ahmed joins me on the roof and wraps a blanket around me.

“It’s cold. Why don’t you go in for a few minutes? I’ll sit here until she comes out,” he says.

“No.”

“Okay. Have it your way.” He sits next to me.

“Go inside. You’ll catch a cold,” I tell him.

“You want a cigarette?” he asks, ignoring me.

“No,” I snarl back.

“Remember the night I thought I had lost Faheemeh?” he asks.

I nod my head.

“I thought my life was over because I was losing her forever. You have the same look in your eyes, and I don’t understand it. You guys have the rest of your lives together. All you need to do is be patient. Zari knows you love her, and I know she loves you, but you need to give her time. She’ll do the right thing. Women always do.”

“I don’t want to wait,” I say like a stubborn, spoiled kid. So much for being a man!

“Look, right now she needs to stay away from you. It’s hard for her to accept that she’s in love with you. She won’t jump in your arms and pretend Doctor never existed less than forty days after his execution. So just tighten your belt, straighten your hat, and let’s go about this the right way. Time, that’s what she needs right now.”

“Tomorrow is Doctor’s fortieth day,” I say in tears. “We were supposed to be together. I hate to see the Shah, but I don’t want her to go alone.”

Ahmed acts like he hasn’t heard what I just said. “Be patient,” he scolds. “Please, be patient.”

“Don’t yell at me,” I say bitterly.

“Why not?” he yells, pointing his finger at me. “You, my dear friend, are supposed to have
That
. I ask you, is this the way a man with
That
behaves? You’re not being a good role model for the rest of us.”

“To hell with
That
,” I say. “I’m tired of being told that I have
That
.”

To my annoyance, my eyes fill again. “I’m tired of it. Tired of pretending.” I know that if I don’t stop myself I’ll go on a rant, as I always do when I’m emotional.

Ahmed lights another cigarette, lets out a stream of smoke and says, “Well, let’s catch a cold together then. If you want to sit here all night long, I’ll sit with you.”

“Go inside,” I say, wiping my eyes.

“No.” He shakes his head.

A long time goes by and neither of us says anything. The night is cold and quiet, the skies are clear. I haven’t slept for more than thirty-six hours. I am tired and my eyelids are heavy, my mind is numb. I think I fall asleep for just a few moments because images of the man with the radio clutter my mind. Again I see his eyes. I see his hair pulled back tight. At one point, I’m standing next to him. I’m trying to punch him but my arms feel heavy, too heavy to be raised. I wake up with a racing heart.

Zari is standing in front of me, and Ahmed is sitting next to me.

“Go inside,” Zari pleads with me. “Please, go inside.”

“No,” I croak.

Ahmed stands up.

“Ahmed, please, take him inside.”

“He’s your problem now,” Ahmed says, and heads toward his room.

“Why are you out here? You’ll freeze to death,” Zari scolds.

I have a lump in my throat, and I’m worried that I might burst into tears if I open my mouth. But it’s time to say something. “I can’t freeze to death because I’ve been living in hell since you decided not to speak to me.” Then my voice chokes up. “I’m really sorry for that damn kiss.”

She shakes her head as if she can’t believe I’m apologizing.

“I will never kiss you again,” I say. “Not even after we get married and have children.”

She smiles and her eyes shine with tears.

“I want to be your friend, your comrade. I will mourn the death of Doctor with you for as long as you want me to.”

She reaches over and touches my face lovingly.

“If there’s a life after death, I’m living it. If there is a hell, I’m burning in it. I love you, and I always have, even before Doctor left on his trip. I’ve been living with love and guilt for a long time now. I don’t want it to be like that anymore.”

Zari touches my face again with her beautiful long fingers and wipes the tears off my cheeks. She puts her arms around me and holds me tight, and I swear I can feel her heart beat.

“This hurts a thousand times worse than breaking my shin,” I whisper.

“Come with me.”

I follow her to her room, where there is a bed, a small desk, a metal chair, and a whole bunch of books. A picture of her parents is framed on one wall, and the picture that Ahmed, Faheemeh, Zari, and I took by the
hose
is next to it.

“It seems like that picture was taken a thousand years ago,” I whisper.

“It was,” she says.

I sit on the chair with Ahmed’s blanket wrapped around me. She slowly moves the blanket, sits on my lap, and wraps it back around us. I tell her that I love her, I can’t live without her, and I will do anything to make sure that she’s happy. She kisses my face, my eyes, and my lips. I taste the salty tears that roll down both our faces.

We spend the whole night in each other’s arms. I say that someday I want us to be married and have our own home and our own kids. She smiles, but doesn’t say anything. Her eyes look lost every time I talk about the future. Ahmed is right. She needs time. And I will give her time until this lost look disappears from her eyes forever. I say that sometime down the road, way, way down the road, when we have kids, I hope that they have blue eyes just like their mother’s because blue is the color of vastness, purity, and depth. She tightens her hold around my neck, and whispers that I’m sweet to remember that.

“I remember every word you’ve ever said,” I whisper back.

We talk all night. Actually, I do most of the talking. I tell her that Faheemeh has been praying for us to become a couple, so that we could all be friends for the rest of our lives. She nods. Her silence makes me want to talk more. I tell her that I was up on the roof the night she and the Masked Angel were talking about me.

“How do you know we were talking about you?” she asks.

“Weren’t you?”

“We were.”

“I thought so.” I smile.