The Doves of Ohanavank (26 page)

“I’ll come,” I say. “I’ll be there around eleven. You can start without me if you get hungry.”

“Okay Lara.
Bari qisher
.” Good night.

The next morning, as I start my routine of making Diqin Alice and me coffee, my phone rings. I answer without checking the number, assuming it is Edik or Alisia.

“
Habibty
,” comes Ahmed’s voice over the phone. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“No Ahmed, I’ve been up. How are you?”

“I am better than I’ve been for a long time, because I will be with you in two days.” He speaks fast, sounds almost rushed. “Day after tomorrow. I’m not sure exactly at what time I can leave Dubai, but it should be sometime in the evening when we land. Next time I call you it will be from Yerevan!”

The small coffee pot where we make Armenian coffee boils over and spills all over the small propane stove. I turn off the burner and put the pot aside. I don’t know what to tell him. I don’t even know if I should sound happy. I start wiping the stove with a damp towel, which sizzles as it comes in contact with the hot burner. Should I ask him how long he’d be staying, or would that sound too eager?

“Are you there?”

“Yes, Ahmed, sorry, just spilled something in the kitchen,” I say. Why do I always end up saying something stupid to him over the phone? But I want him to know that I have been distracted, so he won’t misinterpret my lack of reaction to his news.

“Please tell me it was the excitement of me visiting that made you spill it,” he laughs. Ahmed has no clue. The things that I agonize over do not even occur to him.

“Give me a minute, I have to put the phone down for just a second.” I put the phone down and finish wiping up the mess. Diqin Alice walks in, but I do not want to keep Ahmed waiting.

“Sorry,” I say to Diqin Alice. “I’ll restart the coffee in a minute. I need to finish this conversation.” I leave the kitchen.

“Have you made all your arrangements in Yerevan?” I ask.

“Manoj is coming with me. He’s taken care of everything. I’ll be there for a few days, I am not sure exactly how many yet. It depends on some of the irons I have in the fire, but at least two. I want to tour some of the country with you. I hope you can make some time for me Lara.”

My head is spinning. I think about all the irons that I have in the fire, Anna, Avo, Sona, Anastasia, classes.

“Sure, Ahmed. When you come we can discuss.”

“See you soon.” And the phone goes dead.

I sit at the edge of my bed for a moment, staring at the phone resting in my open palms in my lap. How am I going to deal with Ahmed here? Where does he want to go on his tour of the country? Manoj must have told him about the conditions in Saralandj. A chill passes down my spine. I sincerely hope he does not have Saralandj in mind. What if he wants to see my place in Yerevan? How can I bring him to this room? What do I do if he tries to get intimate? For three months I slept with him. What do I do now? ‘Acknowledge the past, confront the past, kill the past, then go forward free of the past.’ Edik’s words. They sound good. They have a ring to them that should connote feasibility. After all, if they sound that good, with the rhythm of a military march, then it must be imminently doable. Who am I kidding?

Diqin Alice pokes her head inside my door.

“
Amen ban lav a
?” Is everything okay?

“Ha, Diqin Alice,” I say, jumping to my feet. “I’ll start a new pot of coffee. Sorry for the mess.” It is good to have a chore to do. I get busy, chatting with her about nothing. We drink the coffee together at the kitchen table. I wash the cups and the pot, and go back to my room to get ready. It is almost eleven. I’ll be ten minutes late for Edik.

The breakfast room at his hotel has a big buffet that reminds me of some of the spreads in Dubai, displaying almost everything imaginable on a breakfast menu. I walk in and see him sitting at a table talking on the phone. Several men and a few women turn to watch me as I approach his table. I am so used to this by now that I just ignore it. Edik has a cup of coffee in front of him, but no food. I wave and join him. He signals that he won’t be long, and points to the buffet. I’m not comfortable starting without him, but wonder whether he does not want me to hear his conversation. I don’t remember ever being like this. Worrying about everything, trying to second-guess what people may want or what they may think. I hate it. When did I start being like this?

I stop worrying about Edik’s phone call. I don’t want to start breakfast alone. So I stay in my chair and wait for him to finish. There! One less source of unnecessary anguish. The waiter comes carrying a large pot, offering coffee. I accept, and smile amiably at Edik.

“Breakfast is the most important meal of the day,” he says, ending the call. He leans over and kisses my cheek. “Are you hungry?”

“Can we sit for a minute? I mean, if you’re not rushing.”

“Of course. I’m not rushing.” He looks me over and takes a sip of his coffee. “I have to cover a story for one of the news agencies.” He says. “I may have to go to Georgia for a few days. But that’s not until next week. What’s new with you?”

“Ahmed will be here day after tomorrow.” I take another sip of coffee, put the cup down and then look at him.

“Finally!” He says, with a mixture of excitement and nonchalance that only he can pull off. “I was beginning to give up on him.”

“Edik, this is going to be difficult for me.” I want him to know, but I am not looking for feedback.

“I know,” he says seriously. “But it does not have to be.”

“I know the theory: acknowledge, confront and kill the past, then move on.”

“Precisely,” he says, holding my gaze.

“It’s the ‘moving on’ part that I’m not sure of.” I say, even though I am equally scared of all the parts.

“But if you manage the first three, that should be the easiest.”

“What if I don’t know how I want to move on?”

“Then you take your time deciding, Lara. No one can force you to rush into a decision if you don’t want to be rushed.”

Buy time, I think. Put off decisions. Not because I want to procrastinate, but because I don’t know.

“Will I have time to decide?” I ask more to myself than to Edik.

“Lara, you’re overthinking this again. You cannot answer every question in advance. Didn’t I tell you once to let it come to you, and then take it as it comes? First see what he wants, when he wants it, and then decide if that is something you also want. Why are you all worked up about it now?”

“It is easier to figure out what you
don’t
want than what you do,” I say, ignoring his question. In Ahmed’s case, that is precisely my problem. I am
one hundred percent sure of what I do not want with him. And I am totally in the dark when it comes to what I do want, if anything.

“That is true, but it is also true that the hungry monkey does not dance. Let’s get something to eat.”

“The hungry monkey does not dance?” I ask laughing.

“That’s from my father. Wandering entertainers would pass through his village when he was a kid. They’d play the drums, and they’d have these monkeys that were trained to dance to the drumbeat. And then they would pass a hat to gather money. They’d say the bit about the hungry monkey not dancing while asking for money. It stuck in my dad’s head.”

We eat in silence for a while.

“Edik jan,” I say after he consumes half his plate, “I have an unfair question. But you’re the only one I can ask.”

“Ask,” he says, putting a slice of ham in his mouth. “The reason I love your questions is because they are almost all unfair.” He turns to me briefly and winks.

“I will describe to you two opposite sides of Ahmed, and then ask you to give me a single word assessment of him. Just listen first,” I say when I see his eyebrow rising. “Side one,” I begin. “He bought me as he buys any property. He had a few other concubines in his estate at the time. I was a captive there. I had to adhere to strict rules of behavior.” I stop for a second, but he is busy eating. “Side two,” I continue, “he treats me better than anyone outside of my family, and of course you, has ever treated me, better than Anna’s father ever treated her, better than anyone has ever treated Anastasia. He never makes me feel cheap, never gives me any reason to be offended. He is loving, caring, generous, clean, considerate.” I decide to stop there before I start sounding like I’m in love with the guy. Edik’s attention is still on his plate. “Now,” I ask, putting my hand on his arm, because I want him to look at me at this point. “Is he a good man or a bad man? Just answer with one word. Good or bad?”

Edik takes a sip of coffee.

“Neither.” Before I can protest, he adds, “I know you want the good or bad answer, Lara, I know that is the question you’re struggling with, but I’m telling you, based on the information you gave me, he is neither good nor bad. I’ve already told you that it is men like him, men who pay for sex, that sustain Ayvazian’s crimes. If I focus only on that aspect, I’d say he’s bad. But that’s not what you’re asking me. He’s a man who likes women without complications, it seems to me. He likes sex, and he prefers to buy it. I’m sorry
if that makes you uncomfortable. Who else would keep a few concubines? It seems you were more than a concubine, so in your case things were a bit complicated. But ‘good’ and ‘bad’ don’t enter the picture. He is who he is.”

“You’re not helping.”

“Of course I am. If I had answered you as you wanted me to answer you I would have done you a huge disservice.”

“Do you think it was his fault that I met him as a prostitute?” I persist.

“Lara, he is a man who pays for sex; how else could he have met you? I repeat, by paying for sex he becomes an enabler of the crimes that were committed against you. You’re looking for excuses to exonerate him from something that even you do not fully understand yet.”

“Edik, I need to know how to look at him two days from now. As a captor, or as a…” I want to say lover, but I cannot. I hesitate, and he sees the pain in my eyes. “…gentleman.” I say to complete my sentence.

“Do you remember my Irish friend? The one who likes our proverbs?” I nod.

“He told me an Irish saying once, which fully applies here. He said, ‘every saint has a past, every sinner has a future.’ If saints and sinners cannot be pure good or pure bad, how do you expect your Ahmed to be?”

Edik leaves for his dacha in Vardahovit after breakfast, and I walk up Abovian Street, without even realizing that I am walking to the women’s apparel store where Anna works. I have not been in the store before, but I know she works here. I enter and start looking around. Even though the store is quite large, it looks cramped because it has a surprisingly wide selection—from handbags to shoes to clothing of every kind, from sweaters to scarves to dresses to underwear. They even have inexpensive jewelry: glass beaded necklaces, semi-precious stone rings and earrings, and cheap watches. A saleslady approaches me and asks if she can help. I ask if Anna is in. She says she is on her lunch break, and points to the door at the back of the store.

“I can call her for you,” she says.

“If it’s not too much trouble. I just want to say hello.”

She walks into the back room, and comes back out in seconds.

“She’ll be right out,” she says, and then freezes, looking like she’s seen a ghost.

“Madame Carla,” she says looking past me at the person who has just entered the store. “What a pleasant surprise!”

“Hello Lucy,” says the woman she called Madame Carla, ignoring me. How is business? Maybe we can go inside and talk. Don’t you have someone helping you here?”

“I do,” says Lucy nervously, “she’s on her lunch break inside but she should be coming out any minute.”

“Then let’s go in.”

As they head toward the back door, Anna walks out. Carla passes right by her as she walks in, followed by Lucy. She gives Anna a focused look, her eyes lingering on her face for a minute, and then she looks her over, from head to toe. As Anna walks toward me, Carla stares at her back and, I notice with some bewilderment, at her behind.

Anna does not see any of that. “Lara, hello,” she says, giving me a hug.

“I thought I’d come on a surprise inspection, but I see someone beat me to it. Do you know who that woman is?”

“Yeah,” says Anna rolling her eyes, “she owns the store. Lucy is scared out of her wits by her. Her name is Carla something.”

“Carla Ayvazian,” I whisper. “Stay as far away from her as you can, Anna. She’s not good news.”

“You know our Lord and Master Madame Carla?” she laughs.

“Hush, Anna, lower your voice. I’ll tell you about her later, but we should not talk about this here in the store. I’m serious. keep your distance.”

“
De lav
, Lara jan, stop being so serious.”

I smile. There’s no point in making Anna anxious at her workplace.

“I stopped by to say hello,” I say. “We should try to get together soon. I may be busy for a few days.”

“What’s going on with you?”

“It’s a long story.” I’m anxious to get out of the store before Carla comes back out. I don’t think she’s seen my face, and I want to keep it that way. “I’ll tell you when we get together. Let’s have a bite to eat when you get off this evening. My treat, but I cannot afford the type of restaurant that Edik took us the other day.”

She hugs me again, and I leave the store before Carla and Lucy emerge from the back room.

I love walking alone in the streets of Yerevan. Solitude in a crowded and noisy street is different from solitude in the quiet of morning. Your
aloneness somehow acquires more depth, more consequence when you’re in a crowd. Being surrounded by people and tuning them out is in some ways more powerful than not being near anyone. As you switch off what’s around you, your mind isolates itself from your own body, concentrates on a problem, and focuses with such sharpness that even your breathing cannot disturb it. But when you’re physically alone, you sometimes interrupt your own thoughts; you distract yourself.

I walk down Teryan Street, cross Northern Avenue, make a right on Arami Street and emerge in the beautiful park sandwiched between Koghpatsi Street and Mashtots Avenue. The park is peaceful; the flowerbeds have come to life with the first blooms of spring, and the branches of the weeping willows, with their fresh coat of light-green leaves, swing gracefully in the breeze and impart an added measure of serenity to the park.