Moon Daughter Read online

  Rana’s sisters continued to come by now and then, but their visits were brief and soon they returned to their own families and jobs. After a few restless nights, Rana and the baby moved to the guest suite. The relocation not only offered more privacy, but also offered enough distance from the grandparents so the baby’s crying wouldn’t disrupt their sleep. Best of all, Dayeh settled down in her old room adjacent to the suite and sometimes kept the baby with her the entire night, giving Rana a full night of rest.

  Temporary as the arrangements were, that did not stop Mrs. Ameli from hinting. “Oh, what can I say?” Dayeh once heard her saying on the phone. “I guess you’re never done caring for your children.” Dayeh had no idea who she was calling, but something in Mrs. Ameli’s voice told her she was referring to the recent events. Whenever she heard such frustrating comments on the inconvenience their stay had caused, she wished they could go back to Shiraz. But each evening, Dr. Ameli’s warm company made her think that maybe, under the circumstances, his presence was exactly what Rana needed.

  “Oh, how wonderful it feels to return to a full house again,” Dr. Ameli’s voice spilled its warmth into the hallway.

  Dayeh rushed toward the kitchen to bring his tea, but she could still hear their voices.

  “I showed my new granddaughter’s picture to a patient today, and she said those must be the most beautiful eyes a baby ever had.”

  Rana laughed. “And I bet you agreed.”

  “Nope! I said she should have seen her mother when she was a baby!”

  In preparation for Yalda to be shown at the party, Dayeh once more designed her makeshift swaddling though this time she secured the layers of cloth with a satin sash. She counted on the fact that guests

  would only blame her for the outdated swaddling method. One look at her gray hair and wrinkled face and they’d be sure to forgive her. With this baby, even Rana didn’t object to the swaddling, and Dayeh had a feeling it might be because she couldn’t bear to look at Yalda’s legs. However, she noticed Rana staring at them each time she changed the baby’s diapers, as if hoping for a miracle. Once or twice, the old nanny thought she even heard Rana sigh, but neither of them talked about it. The way everyone looked at the baby, their hesitant smiles and their silence made the subject of the shorter leg

  hang like a cloud. It was as if they all hoped that if they didn’t mention it the problem would go away. The bundling covered the baby from waist down, like a little mermaid. A ruffled gown with its long skirt pulled down completed the effect.

  W hen Dr. Ameli saw the baby, he said, “Aha! Now we’ll show them whose picture they should put on those cans of formula!” He reached for his camera.

  Rana stared, as if her eyes could see through the layers of cloth. Her face had the same sad expression as when she studied the baby’s naked body. She turned to her father. “What will I tell them?” Her voice had no ring, her eyes pleading.

  Dr. Ameli stopped his photo session. “No one is going to ask questions, my dear.” He put the camera down, and holding her chin between his thumb and forefinger, raised her head. “I won’t let them corner you. Leave it to papa to deal with the mob.”

  Dayeh poured tea for everyone.

  “You’re being too hard on yourself,” Dr. Ameli went on. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of.” He studied the baby again and smiled. “Think about all the blessings in your life, and you’ll find more than enough reasons to hold your head high.” He went to the bar and poured a drink. “Here,” he said and offered her the glass. “Forget the tea. One sip of this stuff will be enough to calm you down.”

  When the Ameli girls were small, if they were out of cold medicine, their father had put a few drops of cognac in their tea.

  Rana smiled. “Oh, Papa, you and your medicines.”

  Conversations and laughter filled the living room. Guests were taken in by Yalda’s angelic face. Best of all, as though the baby also enjoyed the crowd, she did not fuss at all for a long while. W hen she finally began to cry, Dayeh took her back to the nursery. Exhausted from all the attention, she fell asleep before her bottle of milk was finished.

  By the time dinner was served, the happy crowd in the dining room had already diverted their attention from Rana and the baby. W hen the dessert was served, Dayeh noticed Rana sneaking out, perhaps to check on Yalda, and she followed to help.

  Rana pulled up the covers on her sleeping baby and tucked them in. The silence was shattered by the phone’s loud ring. Rana quickly picked up the receiver.

  “Allo?”

  One look at her pale face and Dayeh knew who the caller was.

  “That’s absurd!” she shouted. “My father would never --” She stopped, which made Dayeh think she had been cut off. Moments later Rana said, “He’d never interfere.” Her voice had risen more than usual, and from the way she held the receiver away from her ear, so had the Major’s. Dayeh could hear him from across the room, though the words were unclear.

  “How could you even talk this way about someone who has always stood by you?”

  The baby woke up and began to squirm in her bassinet. Rana saw Dayeh and motioned to the baby. She held on to the receiver with both hands and her next words came through clenched teeth. “Good name? Go and ask the people of Shiraz what kind of a name you’ve made for yourself.”

  The baby was now crying and Dayeh began to rock her.

  “I believe you’ve done enough already,” Rana said, lowering her voice, as if to make sure the guests wouldn’t hear her.

  This time, the Major had plenty to say because for a couple of minutes all Rana did was frown and listen. Finally, she said, “I don’t want to talk about that, at least, not right now. Just send the papers and I’ll gladly sign. You have your freedom, so if what you say is true, maybe my father isn’t so wrong thinking I deserve freedom, too.”

  There came the Major’s voice again, but this time only for a brief response.

  “You’ll have to,” she said. “It’s the least you can do for me.”

  He went on and on before Rana cut him off. “Trust me, I have grown up.” Despite the strength in her voice, Dayeh noticed Rana take a tissue to wipe her eyes.

  No longer hearing the Major’s voice, Dayeh figured he must have switched to a softer tone. Silence fell for a minute before Rana responded, “Listen, Farhad. This isn’t the barracks, and you can no longer tell me how to live my life.” Was it rage that made her voice strong?

  Whatever he said, Rana’s response shocked Dayeh. “You sure don’t need me, and having evaluated the advantages of this marriage against its shortcomings, I’m not so sure I need you either.” She slammed down the receiver, took the baby, and paced the entire length of the room.

  When no explanation followed, Dayeh excused herself and went to serve more tea.

  After the last guests had left, Rana helped Dayeh to bring back some order to the living room while Mrs. Ameli took her high-heeled shoes off and soaked her feet in a basin of salt-water. Rana gathered the baby gifts and stacked them in the guestroom closet. She then counted her mother’s fine silverware and began to place the pieces in their felt-lined drawer.

  Dr. Ameli loosened his tie and leaned against the doorframe. “I know an old guy who’s so tired, he may fall asleep standing up,” he said and gave a mock bow. “So if you ladies don’t mind…”

  “Farhad called,” Rana said and kept her eyes on the silverware. “He said your lawyer contacted him.”

  Dr. Ameli seemed baffled. “I didn’t ask him to do that.”

  “I didn’t think you would.”

  Dr. Ameli thought for a few seconds. “Maybe it was his son who called. They practice together. It sounds like something an inexperienced lawyer might do.” His words sounded as if he was thinking aloud. “I only told my friend to look into the possibilities, your options, etc.”

  Rana gave an angry laugh. “Well, whoever’s idea that was, Farhad called to inform you that he won’t do it.”

  “Won’t do what
?” her father asked.

  “He will not give me a divorce.”

  Mrs. Ameli gasped, and Dayeh lowered herself onto the nearest chair. She had feared this might be what the phone conversation had been about, but now that it was out in the open she had a hard time believing it.

  Dr. Ameli took a deep breath. “And who asked for one?”

  Rana stared back in equal surprise. “According to Farhad, you did.”

  He laughed bitterly. “I wish I could. But I don’t have that right. Do I?” A few more seconds went by. “What else did he have to say?”

  Rana just shook her head.

  “Well then,” he said and sounded relieved. “Maybe the man has more sense than we give him credit for.” He lowered himself onto the sofa and leaned back. “W hen Farhad refused to return my calls, I asked my old friend, Mr. Eskandary, to contact him and find out how he felt about the situation and to demand that he clarify his intentions. W ho knows? Maybe whatever the lawyer said has brought your husband to his senses. Maybe stating that he doesn’t want a divorce is his way of working toward a reconciliation.” Dr. Ameli sounded as if he was doing his best to convince himself.

  Anger rose within Rana and her burning words poured out in a tone that no one had ever heard her use before. She tossed the last pieces of silverware into the drawer, slammed it shut, and turned to face her father. “Or maybe the women in his family have taught him that good wives are the ones who can put up and shut up. And, maybe with a new wife and a baby on the way, it’s too damned inconvenient, too costly, to deal with a divorce.”

  “Oh, my,” Mrs. Ameli cried out. She wrapped a towel around her wet feet and leaned back on the sofa.

  “Astaghforellah,” Dayeh said under her breath, asking for God’s forgiveness.

  Rana tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and straightened her back. “I haven’t had time to make any decisions, but the idea of a divorce is beginning to sound better and better. Maybe the Major is right in saying I should grow up. Why not call Mr. Eskandary myself?”

  Dr. Ameli, unable to close his mouth, stared back in utter silence.

  Chapter

  Five

  THE LAW OFFICES OF ESKANDARY & Eskandary had such old furniture, Rana was sure it must have not changed in decades. The door opened and a gray head peeked in. “I am most embarrassed to have kept you waiting.” The small man walked in and embraced Rana’s father, who had risen from his chair to greet him. The two men kissed on both cheeks, then the lawyer turned to Rana.

  “And who may this vision of beauty be?”

  Rana took his extended hand.

  “The last time I saw you, you were this big,” the old lawyer said, holding the palm of his hand at knee level.

  Rana smiled back.

  “This place never seems to change, my friend,” her father said good-naturedly. “Don’t you ever get tired of antiques?”

  Mr. Eskandary shrugged. “Not as long as I’m turning into one myself,” he said and chuckled. “The day I decide to step down, Firooz can do whatever suits his young taste.” He smiled and looked around as though to refresh his mind on what the furniture looked like. “As it is, I think the decor provides a perfect background for my old face.”

  Rana’s father nodded in acknowledgement of his friend’s wit.

  Rana had come to this meeting with a few questions. Following their long discussions, her father had concluded that it would be best to have a representative. “Should you decide to go through with a divorce, it will save you a lot of unpleasantness to have Eskandary act on your behalf when possible,” he had said. “I would like to be present on the initial visit, make the introduction, and then leave you to it.”

  The worn leather chairs weren’t half as comfortable as they looked and their sloped seats made it hard to stay in them. Rana leaned back and while the lawyer opened and closed a few files, she tried to distract herself with little details around the office. Mr. Eskandary had a busy desk, but there seemed to be a system to the clutter. A stack of files sat on one side, an open phonebook on the other. Between a stapler and the telephone, the angel of justice stood blindfolded. Rana sadly smiled at the thought that if they asked her, she’d say the angel signified how blind the law was when it came to women’s rights. Despite the fact that women had even found seats in the parliament, a woman continued to receive half the rights a man had: she needed a man’s permission to travel, and the law gave men the right to marry, divorce, and keep sole custody of their children.

  She listened to the sound of shuffling papers as Mr. Eskandary reviewed his file. Morning sun filtered through a single window. A thin layer of dust covered the desk, except for a clean rectangle where a file had been. The floral wallpaper was so faded that Rana thought it must be the original.

  Mr. Eskandary, apparently satisfied with what he found in the folder, rang for tea and picked up the top pages of the document.

  “As much as I regret having to do this for a friend, we have no choice but to deal with this unpleasant matter.” The old lawyer looked at Rana with the subtle affection only a wrinkled face can offer. “This must be awfully hard on you, but in light of the latest development, your father and I are glad you agreed to having this meeting. Please pardon me if some questions sound unkind, but I need all the facts.”

  Rana nodded.

  “Your father has briefed me on some of what is going on, but I will need the details from you.” He scratched his chin. “How long has it been since you’ve known about…?” he said.

  Rana’s mind filled with images of the day Banu had snuck into her room to share the neighborhood gossip.

  “Five months,” she said.

  Her father looked up in shock.

  Rana felt a knot in her throat and wished she could vanish for a moment and be alone. It wasn’t in her nature to share her secrets with someone she barely knew, much less to cry in the presence of these men she respected so much.

  “Have you ever met this other… ah…person?”

  Each time she tried to picture Parisa, despite the vulgar visions that came with such stories, Rana couldn’t form a solid image. She shook her head.

  “This next question is harder, but you understand that, as your lawyer, I need to know everything about the case, and I mean everything.” He cleared his throat. “Has the Major ever abused you?”

  Before Rana could respond her father jumped in. “She just told us it’s been going on for five months. Isn’t months of mental torture, especially in her condition, abuse enough?” His words hung in the air unanswered. It was out of character for him to interrupt, let alone lose his temper. He must have realized this because he quickly added, “I’m sorry. Please go on.”

  Rana looked down and her response came as more of a whisper, “No.”

  For the next minute or so, no one said a word while Mr. Eskandary wrote down his notes.

  “One always hopes for a simple, uncomplicated divorce,” he said in his soothing voice. “I never call it friendly—as some of my esteemed colleagues would prefer to—because I’ve never witnessed one.” He clasped his hands and put his elbows on the desk. “Some divorces are less traumatic than others, but friendly?” He shook his head. “That’s just a figure of speech. However, there’s no need to make it worse by taking matters to court, especially when we know that our current law will not be of much help to you.”

  “I understand,” Rana’s father said, “But what if he continues his stubbornness? It doesn’t sound as if he’s leaving us a choice.”

  Eskandary nodded. “Experience tells me that he will not change. Unfortunately the law leans too much in a man’s favor, and believe me, he’s counting on that.” He kept his eyes on Rana, as if to make sure she followed. “I’ve given this matter serious thought. Your father is a dear friend indeed, and I look at this problem as if it concerns my own daughter. So what I’m about to suggest isn’t so much a legal solution but rather my confidential advice, off the record.” He put the palm of his hand over his he
art and added, “From father to daughter.”

  There was a knock on the door, and a young man walked in, carrying a tray of tea.

  “Leave them here,” Mr. Eskandary said and stacked a few files to make room on the desktop. “And hold all my calls.”

  The man nodded. When he had gone, Eskandary continued. “As I said, this is strictly between us, and I don’t need to mention that if any of it gets out, I’ll be in serious trouble.”

  Rana looked up from her lap and noticed that now her father and the old attorney were staring at each other. Neither said a word.

  “Let us review all the facts. Under the current law, he has the right to do as he wishes. Not only does he hold all the rights to a divorce, but should you succeed in obtaining one through the superior court, the law gives the father full custody of all children.”

  Rana did not know much about the law, but what he said was common knowledge. She had hoped that with all the modern changes attributed to the new queen, and the recent accomplishments of the ladies’ organizations, something would have been done about women’s rights, something that could help her case.

  “As long as you live here, your chances are slim,” Eskandary went on. “So I would suggest finding a way to go abroad.”

  “Without a divorce?” Rana asked.

  “Precisely.”

  “But, what could that possibly accomplish?”

  “Your freedom,” he said and raised his index finger. “Once you are safely out of here, you can act on becoming a resident in another country.” He reached over and placed a glass of tea before each of them and passed the bowl of sugar cubes around. “It’s been done, you know. There are countries where the laws of divorce are more to a woman’s advantage.”

  Rana thought about that for a moment and was overcome by a feeling of disbelief. “This sounds much too drastic,” she said as soon as she could find her voice. “People get divorced all the time. There has to be a less complicated way.”