The Book of Fate (40 page)

‘I know, I know. I remember. I am just informing you of their claims and you can officially challenge their decision. But to be honest, I think both you and your husband are in danger. Where is he anyway?'

‘I don't know. He has been gone for a week and I have not heard from him.'

Tired and weak, I went back to my office to gather my belongings. Tears were welling up in my eyes, but I would not allow them to flow. I didn't want my adversaries to witness my desolation. Abbas-Ali, the janitor on our floor, slid into my office with a tea tray. He acted as if he had stepped into forbidden territory. He gazed sadly at me and at the room for a few seconds and then whispered, ‘Mrs Sadeghi, you don't know how upset I am. I swear on my children's lives, I said nothing against you. I never saw anything other than goodness and kindness from you. Everyone is so upset.'

I laughed bitterly and said, ‘Yes, I can tell from their behaviour and from their false testimonies. People with whom I have spent seven years have conspired against me so expertly that now no one will even look at me.'

‘No, Mrs Sadeghi, that's not how it is. They are all terrified. You won't believe the trumped-up charges they have come up with against your friends Mrs Sadati and Mrs Kanani. There is talk that they will be dismissed, too.'

‘I don't think it's as bad as that,' I said. ‘You are exaggerating. And even if they are dismissed, it won't be because of their friendship with me. This is all about old grudges and jealousies.'

I picked up my handbag, which was bulging with my things, took the folder that contained my personal papers and made to leave.

‘Missus, for the love of God, don't blame me,' Abbas-Ali pleaded. ‘Absolve me.'

I wandered around the streets until noon. Gradually, anxiety replaced my humiliation and anger: anxiety about the future, anxiety for Hamid and the children, and anxiety over money. With inflation continuing to rise alarmingly, what was I going to do without a salary? For the past two months the printing house had made no money and Hamid's father had not been able to scrape together an income for Hamid.

I had a splitting headache and struggled to make my way home.

‘What are you doing home so early?' Mrs Parvin asked with surprise. ‘And you went to work late this morning. If you continue like this, they will fire you.'

‘They just did!'

‘What? Are you serious? May God take my life! It is my fault for having been late this morning.'

‘No,' I said. ‘They don't fire people for showing up late, for not working, for harassing others, for being incompetent, for theft, for lechery, for promiscuity, for dishonesty, or for stupidity. They fire the likes of me; someone who has worked like a mule, someone who knows her job, someone who has to pay for her children's expenses. I was tainted and they had to fire me so that the agency would be purged and purified.'

I did not feel well for several days. I had a severe headache and slept only a few hours with the help of the Novalgin Mrs Parvin gave me. Hamid had returned from a trip to Kurdistan, but he stopped by the house only a couple of times. He said they had a lot of work to do and he was spending the nights at the printing house. I didn't even have the chance to tell him I had been dismissed from work.

The news I was hearing about Hamid and his organisation was becoming more troubling and my fears were deepening by the day. And then, the nightmare I had experienced once before happened again.

In the middle of the night, government forces stormed the house. From their exchanges I realised that the printing house had been raided at the same time, and that Hamid and others who were there with him had been arrested.

The same insults, the same horror, the same hatred; it was as if I was being forced to watch an old, horrible movie for a second time. Those probing hands and eyes, whose memory still made me shudder with disgust, were again going through the most private corners of my life and I was feeling the same chill and nakedness I had experienced years ago. But this time, Siamak's rage was not just in his eyes. He was now a quick-tempered fifteen-year-old, writhing with anger, and I was terrified that he would suddenly give voice to his loathing, verbally or physically. I was clutching his hand and begging him under my breath to stay calm, to say nothing and to not make the situation any worse than it was. And all the while, with the colour drained from his face, Massoud watched the scene while holding Shirin in his arms and making no effort to keep her quiet.

Everything started all over again. Early the next morning, I called Mansoureh and asked her to tell her father very calmly what had happened. Did Hamid's parents have the strength to live through such a bitter ordeal a second time? An hour later, his father called. Hearing his pained voice made my heart ache.

‘Father,' I said. ‘We have to start all over again, but I don't know from where. Do you know anyone who could find a trace of him?'

‘I don't know,' he said. ‘Let me see if I can find someone.'

The house was in complete disarray and we were all overwrought and on edge. Siamak was roaring like a lion, punching and kicking walls and doors, cursing the earth and the sky. Massoud was behind the sofa, pretending to be asleep. I knew he was crying and didn't want anyone to intrude on his privacy. Shirin, who was generally a pleasant child, had picked up on the tension and would not stop crying. And I, shaken and confused, was fighting away horrifying thoughts.

On the one hand, I was cursing Hamid and blaming him for having again shattered our lives, and on the other, I was asking myself, Is torturing prisoners still a common practice? I wondered what condition he was in. He used to say that the first forty-eight hours was when they inflict the worst pain on prisoners. Could he survive it? His feet had only recently started to look normal again. What exactly was he accused of? Would he have to stand trial in the Revolutionary Court?

I wanted to scream. Needing to be alone, I went to my bedroom and closed the door. I put my hands over my ears to not hear the children and I let my tears flow. I saw my reflection in the mirror. I looked pale, horror-struck, helpless and disoriented. What was I to do? What could I do? I wanted to run away. If it weren't for the children, I would have headed for the mountains and deserts and I would have disappeared. But what was I going to do with them? I was like a captain whose ship was sinking and whose passengers were looking at him with hope in their eyes. But I was more broken than my ship. I needed a lifeboat to help me escape, to take me some place far away. I no longer had the strength to carry that heavy burden of responsibility.

The sound of the baby crying had grown louder and it was slowly turning into agonising screams. I instinctively got up and wiped away my tears. I had no choice. The children needed me. That ship caught in a storm had no captain but me.

I picked up the telephone and called Mrs Parvin. I quickly explained what had happened, asked her to stay home and wait for me to take Shirin there. Mrs Parvin was still screaming desperately when I hung up. Shirin had finally calmed down in Massoud's arms. I knew he couldn't bear to see his sister cry and would stop pretending to be asleep. Siamak was sitting at the kitchen table. His face was flushed, he had clenched his jaw and his fists and I could see the swollen veins on his forehead throbbing.

I sat next to him and said, ‘Look, my son, yell if you want to yell. Yell as much as you want to and let it all out.'

‘They came and turned our life upside down, they arrested Dad, and we sat here like idiots and watched them do whatever they wanted,' he shouted.

‘What exactly did you want us to do? What could we do? Could we have stopped them?'

He pounded his fists on the table. There was blood on the edge of his hands. I took them in mine and held them tight. He started yelling obscenities. I waited until he calmed down.

‘You know, Siamak,' I said, ‘when you were a boy you got into fights with everyone and became very agitated. I used to hold you in my arms and you would punch me and kick me until you got rid of all your anger. If it still calms you down, then come here.'

And I took him in my arms. He was considerably taller and stronger than me and could easily have pulled away. But he didn't. He put his head on my shoulder and cried. A few minutes later, he said, ‘Mum, you are so lucky, you are so calm and strong!'

I laughed and thought, Let him have this impression of me…

Massoud was watching us with tears in his eyes. Shirin had fallen asleep in his arms. I motioned to him and he gently put Shirin down and came to me. I put my arms around him, too, and the three of us cried tears that united us and gave us strength. A few minutes later, I pulled myself away and said, ‘Well, boys, we shouldn't waste any time. Crying isn't going to help your father. We have to come up with a plan. Are you ready?'

‘Of course!' they both replied.

‘Well then, hurry up and pack a few things. You will stay with Mother for a few days and Mrs Parvin will take care of Shirin.'

‘What will you do?' Massoud asked.

‘I have to go to your grandfather's house so that we can find out where your father is. Perhaps we can get some news of him. We have to go to many different places; there are hundreds of government committees and military departments.'

‘I will come with you,' Siamak said.

‘No, you have to take care of your brother and sister,' I said. ‘After your father, you are responsible for the family.'

‘First of all, I won't go to Grandmother's house because Uncle Ali's wife will be upset; she wants to cover herself in front of me and she will constantly nag and complain. Second, Mrs Parvin will be taking care of Shirin, and Massoud is a big boy who doesn't need me to watch over him.'

He was right, but I didn't know what our true situation was and I worried that his young and quick-tempered spirit might not be able to handle some of what we would encounter.

‘Look, son,' I said. ‘You have other duties, too. You have to find help. Tell your uncle Ali what has happened and see if he knows anyone in any of the committees. I have heard that his brother-in-law has joined the Revolutionary Guards. If necessary, go talk to him. But make sure you don't say anything that would make your father's situation any worse than it is.'

‘Of course, I won't,' Siamak said. ‘I'm not a child. I know what to say.'

‘Fine. Then I want you to go to your aunt Faati's house and tell Sadegh Agha everything that has happened. Perhaps he knows people who can help. And if you want, you can stay with them. For now, we have to find out where your father is. I will tell you the rest of what you need to do later.'

‘Don't you want me to tell Uncle Mahmoud?' Siamak asked. ‘You know he can help. They say he is the head of one of the committees.'

‘No. After the fight he and your father had, I don't think he will do anything to help. We'll leave that for later. I will come and see you as soon as I can. And you don't need to go to school tomorrow. Hopefully, everything will be much clearer by Saturday.'

Not only did nothing become clearer, everything became more vague and complicated. Hamid's father and I spent the next two days going to see every one of his friends and acquaintances, but it was useless. Those who had previously held a position of influence had mostly left the country and the others had either lost their jobs or were on the run.

‘Things have changed,' Hamid's father said. ‘We don't know anyone any more.'

We had no choice; we had to start searching for Hamid ourselves. The heads of police departments and divisions denied any involvement, claimed they had no information, and referred us to various government committees. At the committees we were asked what crime Hamid was charged with. We didn't know what to say and with fear and trepidation I would mumble that I thought he was accused of being a communist. No one felt a responsibility to give us an answer. Or perhaps it was because of security issues that they would not tell us where Hamid was being held.

Two days later, more exhausted than before and hoping to find help and support, I went to Mother's house. Faati and the children were there, waiting and worried.

‘Couldn't you have at least called?' Siamak said irately.

‘No, my dear, I couldn't. You have no idea what it has been like. We have been to a thousand places and only returned to your grandfather's house late last night. And I had to stay there because we had another appointment at seven-thirty this morning. But you have talked to your grandmother, haven't you?'

‘Yes, but I want to know what you and Grandfather have managed to find out.'

‘You can be sure that whenever I have good news, you will be the first person to hear it. Now go and gather your things; we have to go back home.'

Then I turned to Ali and said, ‘Ali, you and Mahmoud know so many people at different committees. Can't you find out where they have taken Hamid?'

‘To be honest, sister, forget about Mahmoud. He refuses to even hear Hamid's name. As for me, I can't openly ask around and investigate. After all, your husband is a communist and before you know it, I will be labelled and accused of a thousand things. But I will inquire indirectly.'

I was disappointed and wanted to say something to him, but I controlled myself. In spite of everything, I needed him.

‘Sadegh will contact a few people he knows,' Faati said. ‘Don't torture yourself like this. There is nothing you can do. And why do you want to go back home?'

‘I have to go,' I said. ‘You won't believe the condition the house is in. I have to tidy it up. And the boys have to go back to school on Saturday.'

‘Then leave Shirin with us,' she said. ‘You want to go here and there and she will be in the way and hold you back. You know how much Firouzeh loves her and plays with her as if she were a doll.'