The Book of Fate (25 page)

‘Does she have children?'

‘Yes, her mother said she has a three-year-old daughter. I told Mrs Ahmadi how long you searched for Parvaneh, how terribly you missed her, and that your brother has lost his spunk and no longer poses a danger to anyone except to himself. Finally, I managed to get her telephone number, although she wasn't very comfortable giving it to me.'

My mind travelled back to seven years earlier. The camaraderie and deep friendship that I had shared with Parvaneh, I had never developed with anyone else. I knew I would never have another friend like her.

I was too embarrassed to call her mother. I didn't know what to tell her. But in the end, I did. I felt a lump in my throat the moment I heard her voice. I introduced myself and told her that I knew it was audacious of me to be calling her. I told her that Parvaneh had been my dearest friend, my only friend. I told her that I was ashamed of what had happened and asked her to forgive my family. I told her that I wished I could see Parvaneh again, that I still spent hours talking to her, that not a day went by without my thinking about her. I gave Mrs Ahmadi my telephone number so that Parvaneh could call me the next time she came to Iran to visit her family.

 

With two noisy children at home and a thousand chores and responsibilities, preparing for my final exams wasn't easy. I had to study at night, after the children went to bed. Near dawn, when Hamid came home and found me still awake and studying, he would look surprised and comment on my tenacity and determination. I took my final exams after Siamak had taken his, and the dream I had had for so many years finally came true; a simple dream that girls my age had attained as their natural right, without having to become so obsessed with it.

 

Hamid's activities were becoming more serious and dangerous. He had even come up with a security arrangement and had planned escape routes out of the house. Although I didn't know what his group was doing or planning, I sensed constant danger around me. After his strange trip and long absence, their organisation seemed to be more cohesive, their goals more defined and their work more structured. At the same time, there were news reports of incidents around the city that I felt were somehow connected to them. But the fact was that I didn't know and I didn't want to know. My ignorance made life bearable and lessened my fear, especially for the children.

 

At six o'clock on a summer morning, the telephone rang. Hamid reached it before I did. He hardly said two words and hung up, but suddenly he looked pale and terrified. It took almost a minute for him to regain his composure. I stood staring at him with horror and didn't have the nerve to ask what had happened. He rushed around, packed a few necessities in a duffel bag and took all the money we had at home. Trying to remain calm, I quietly asked, ‘Hamid, have you been betrayed?'

‘I think so,' he said. ‘I'm not sure what has happened. One of the guys has been arrested. Everyone is relocating.'

‘Who was arrested?'

‘You don't know him. He is a new member.'

‘Does he know you?'

‘Not by my real name.'

‘Does he know where we live?'

‘Fortunately not. We didn't have any meetings here. But others may have been arrested, too. Don't panic. You know nothing. Go to your parents' house if you think you will be more comfortable there.'

Siamak had woken up at the sound of the telephone and looking worried and startled he was following Hamid around. He had sensed our anxiety.

‘Where will you go?' I asked.

‘I don't know. For now, I just have to leave. I don't know where I will be. I will not contact you at all for a week.'

Siamak wrapped his arms around Hamid's legs and begged, ‘I want to go with you!'

Hamid pushed him away and said, ‘If they come here, no matter what they find, just tell them it doesn't belong to us. Luckily you don't know anything that could put us in even greater danger.'

Again, Siamak clung to him and cried, ‘I am coming with you!'

Hamid angrily ripped him off his leg and said, ‘Gather your kids and take care of yourselves. Go to my father if you need money and don't talk to anyone about this.'

After he left, I stood there in a daze for some time. Terrified, I wondered what destiny had in store for us. Siamak was in a rage. He was throwing himself against the walls and doors and then I saw him running towards Massoud who had just woken up. I ran and picked him up in my arms. He tried to break away by kicking and punching me. It was useless to try to pretend that everything was fine and nothing had happened. That perceptive and sensitive child could sense my anxiety with every breath that I took.

‘Listen to me, Siamak,' I whispered in his ear. ‘We have to be calm and not tell anyone our secret; otherwise it will be very bad for Daddy.'

He suddenly grew quiet and said, ‘Not tell anyone what?'

‘Don't tell anyone that Daddy had to leave like this today. And make sure Massoud doesn't find out either.'

He looked at me with fear and disbelief.

‘And we shouldn't be afraid. We have to be brave and strong. Daddy is very strong and he knows what to do. Don't worry, no one will find him. We are his soldiers. We have to be calm and keep his secret. He needs our help. Do you agree?'

‘Yes.'

‘So let us promise each other that we will not say anything to anyone and we will not make a fuss. All right?'

‘All right.'

I knew he couldn't really understand the weight of what I was telling him, but it didn't matter. With his young and imaginative mind, he filled the gaps and exaggerated the heroic aspects of the story to his liking.

We never again talked about any of it. Sometimes when he saw me lost in thought, he would quietly take my hand and without saying a word he would look at me. I would try to banish my worries, and I would smile confidently and whisper in his ear, ‘Don't worry. He is in a safe place.' And he would run off, raise a racket and pick up his game where he had left off. He would leap behind the sofa at the speed of lightning and make strange noises while shooting his water pistol in every direction. He was the only one capable of changing his mood and behaviour so dramatically.

 

Those anxiety-filled days seemed endless. I tried hard not to do anything rash and I didn't tell anyone what had happened. I had a little money in my wallet and I did my best to make do with it. I constantly asked myself, What will they do to him if they catch him? What has his group been involved in? What if the destruction I read about in the newspaper was their doing? I had never felt fear that close and that serious. In the beginning, I had thought of their meetings as an intellectual game, a pastime, a means for childish self-aggrandisement, but now everything had changed. The memory of that summer night when they had stashed things in the cellar amplified my fear. After that night, there was always a large padlock on the door of the room at the back of the cellar.

A few times I complained to Hamid about it, but he would only retort, ‘Why are you constantly nagging? Why is this bothering you? You hardly ever go down to the cellar. It is not as if your space has been cramped.'

‘But I'm afraid. What is down there? What if it puts us in danger?'

Hamid kept reassuring me that there was no need to worry and that whatever was down there was not dangerous. But before he left, he had said that if they found anything in the house I should just say it was not ours and that I knew nothing about it. Then, there were things down there that he did not want discovered.

 

A week later, in the middle of the night, the sound of the front door woke me from my light and troubled sleep. I ran into the hall and turned on the light. Hamid whispered, ‘Turn it off, turn it off!'

He wasn't alone. Two strange-looking women, tightly clad in chadors, were standing behind him. I caught sight of their feet. They were wearing rugged men's boots. The three of them went into the living room. Then Hamid came back out, closed the door behind him, and said, ‘Now you can turn on that small lamp and give me the news.'

‘There is no news,' I said. ‘Nothing has happened here.'

‘I know that. But have you noticed anything suspicious?'

‘No…'

‘Have you gone out?'

‘Yes, almost every day.'

‘And you didn't feel you were being followed? Do we have any new neighbours?'

‘No, I haven't noticed anything.'

‘Are you sure?'

‘I don't know; I haven't sensed anything out of the ordinary.'

‘All right. Now if you can, go bring something for us to eat. Tea, bread and cheese, last night's leftovers, whatever you have.'

I put the kettle on the stove. Even though I knew danger was still hovering around him, I felt a certain joy; I was relieved that he was unharmed. As soon as the tea was ready, I put cheese, butter, fresh herbs, the preserves I had recently made, and all the bread we had at home on a tray and took it to the living room door. I quietly called Hamid. I knew I should not go in. He opened the door, quickly took the tray and said, ‘Thanks; now go to bed.'

He seemed to have lost some weight and his beard looked slightly salt and pepper. I wanted to kiss him.

I went to the bedroom and closed the door. I wanted them to be able to comfortably use the bathroom. Again, I thanked God that once more I was seeing him alive and well. But a sense of foreboding gnawed at me. Drowned in vague imaginings, I finally fell asleep.

 

The sun had just risen when I woke up. I remembered that we had no bread. I got dressed, washed my face, went to the kitchen to turn on the samovar and returned to the hall. The children had woken up, but the door to the living room was still closed.

Siamak followed me back into the kitchen and quietly whispered, ‘Is Daddy back?'

Taken aback, I asked, ‘How did you know?'

‘It's weird here. The living room door is locked and there are shadows behind the glass.'

The living room door was made of matte, honeycomb glass.

‘Yes, my dear. But he doesn't want anyone to know, so we shouldn't say anything.'

‘He is not alone, is he?'

‘No, he has two friends with him.'

‘I will make sure Massoud doesn't find out.'

‘That's good, my son. You are a man now, but Massoud is still young and he may say something to others.'

‘I know. I won't let him go near the living room door.'

Siamak stood guard at the living room door with such determination that Massoud grew more and more curious, wanting to know what was going on. They were about to get into a fight when Hamid walked out of the living room. Massoud stood there looking stunned while Siamak ran to him and clung to his legs. Hamid hugged and kissed them both.

‘Sit with your children while I prepare breakfast,' I said.

‘All right, let me wash first. And prepare something for our friends, too.'

When the four of us sat together at the breakfast spread, I suddenly felt like crying.

‘Thank God,' I sighed. ‘I was afraid we would never be together again.'

Hamid looked at me tenderly and said, ‘For now, everything is fine. You haven't talked to anyone, have you?'

‘No, I haven't even told your parents. But they have been very curious. They keep asking about you. Remember to call them; otherwise, as you like to say, there is going to be a big fuss.'

‘Daddy,' Siamak said, ‘I didn't tell anyone either. And I was careful for Massoud not to find out.'

Hamid looked at me with surprise. I gestured to him that there was nothing to worry about, and I said, ‘Yes, Siamak has been a big help. He is great at keeping secrets.'

In his sweet, childish tone Massoud said, ‘I have a secret, too. I have a secret, too.'

‘Forget it,' Siamak snapped. ‘You are still a kid, you don't understand.'

‘I'm not a kid, I understand.'

‘Boys, be quiet!' Hamid chided. Then he turned to me and said, ‘Look here, Massoum, put something on the stove for lunch, then go to your father's house. I will call you and let you know when to come back home.'

‘When will you call?'

‘You will definitely have to stay there tonight.'

‘But what am I going to tell them? They will think we have had a fight.'

‘It doesn't matter. Let them think you are sulking. But you are not to come back under any circumstances until I call you. Do you understand?'

‘Yes, I understand. But all this is finally going to get us into real trouble. I have been sick with worry all week. For the love of God, whatever you have stashed in this house take it all away. I am afraid.'

‘Leave the house and we will do just that.'

Angry and upset, Siamak said, ‘Daddy, let me stay.'

I motioned to Hamid to talk to him and took Massoud with me to the kitchen. The two of them sat facing each other. Hamid was talking in a serious tone and Siamak was listening intently. That day my six-and-a-half-year-old son behaved like a responsible adult who knew he had a duty to perform.

We said goodbye to Hamid and left to go to Father's house. Calm and quiet, Siamak struggled to carry the heavy duffel bag I had packed. I wondered what was going through his young mind. At Father's house, too, Siamak neither played nor made a sound. He sat on the edge of the reflecting pool and watched the red fish in the water. He didn't even get excited when Ehteram-Sadat brought Gholam-Ali to the house that afternoon; he didn't start a fight or create mischief.

‘What is wrong with him?' Father asked.

‘Nothing, Father. He has become a gentleman!'

I looked at Siamak and smiled. He looked up and smiled back at me. There was such serenity on his face. Now Siamak, Hamid and I shared a secret, a very important secret. We were a close family and Massoud was our child.