FICTION

PART 19 (part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5) (part 6) (part 7) (part 8) (part 9) (part 10) (part 11) (part 12) (Part 13) (Part 14) (Part 15) (Part 16) (Part 17) (Part 18) (part 19) (Part 20, conclusion)

Subject: [Salam dooste aziz]
From: Firoozeh L., firoozehl@utehran.ir
To: Maryam K., hottestgirl2938@debbiemusic.com
January 1, 8:29:07 a.m.

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Dear Maryam:

I decided that the very first person that I will write to inaugurate my new email account is you, doosste aziz. Of course, no letter or email or telegram could put into mere words my gratitude to you, your husband and your team for helping me in my most trying time. I hope that you send my warmest and most heartfelt regards to all of them for now until I can somehow find a way to honor them properly for what they have done for me.

Strange to think it has been more than a month since I have said good-bye to you. I know your first questions will be on my life in Iran and how my family has taken the news of the failure of my marriage and my return home. Well, as you can expect, Papa was not thrilled at all but I think it was less to do with the fact that I am back than at the fact that the two hundred and fifty thousand dollars he and his business associates had invested with Shahab, his so-called big “business deal”, have now vanished, along with Shahab. So have all my personal belongings, my jewellery, my china and silverware which were the only things that Mahrokh Khanoom had not been able to steal from my mother’s inheritance and which are now all lost forever.

But do you think I regret any of them? Not at all. At first, I felt shamed that my husband had managed not only to con me but also my father and to bring dishonour to him among his business associates, which he will now have to repay out of his own pocket. But also when I think about it, Papa did not ever pick up the phone to call me in Amrika and let me know about this “investment.” I guess the opinion of a daughter held in contempt does not count for much when you are wheeling and dealing among serious businessmen. Come to think of it, he did not even call to talk to me other than a couple of times and that was kept at a perfunctory level “salam ahval porsi.” I guess you reap what you sow then. I have certainly paid my own price.

Perhaps the costliest thing that I lost was the baby that I was carrying. I still wake up sometime in the middle of the night, in a cold sweat, my hands on my belly, wondering if there is still a life inside of it and hoping that my abortion was just a nightmare. But then I remember that he or she is lost forever and that it is best that way. Of course, I toyed with the idea of keeping my baby, you know that better than anyone. It didn’t even matter to me that it came from such a hated father. I was happy because I thought for the first time, I could have someone who belonged to me, who loved me and would need me, and would never lie to me or leave me. But then, I realized I was still thinking in that same mistaken way that got me into the mess I fell in.

Always running towards something or someone to fill that deep, hollow emptiness inside of me. I tried to fill it with Shahab first. And now, this poor, defenceless baby. What a huge burden on its tiny little shoulders to want to fill the abyss that I am. Children are nourished not just through milk and crackers, they need to feed off an emotionally strong mother and father. If I had gone ahead with my initial plan to give birth to my baby, I would have turned into a monster, feeding off him or her like a vampire, ensuring that he or she grow up just as stunted as I had been. No it is best that way. I decided, rightly so, that first and foremost, I needed to fill up myself. Avval az hameh bayad khodamo besaazam.

You will be happy to know that I have moved in with Khaleh Sedigheh and enrolled in Tehran University. I am also working part time at Amir Khan’s factory as a receptionist while I take my classes. I am actually very excited for the future and even looking forward to making new friends. My American past is already but a fading memory. I have put it behind me and I want to start fresh. I never want to be that Firoozeh again.

I hope that you too Maryam joon will find happiness. For the two of us are not so unlike each other. We both are running away from the ghosts of unhappy, loveless childhoods trying to fill our emptiness. You have momentarily filled it with things: Money and cars and a nice home and jewellery and all sorts of knick-knacks. But I could always see the same restlessness in your eyes that I found in my own mirrored reflection. Please remember this: I will be here for you whenever you need me. You are my sister and I am yours.

I wish you health, happiness and success until we meet again.

Lovingly,

Firoozeh >>> Part 20, conclusion


PART 19 (part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5) (part 6) (part 7) (part 8) (part 9) (part 10) (part 11) (part 12) (Part 13) (Part 14) (Part 15) (Part 16) (Part 17) (Part 18) (part 19) (Part 20, conclusion)