to come. A mysterious-looking man with a beard and no mustache brought to the stage midget plants that were smaller than the palm of a hand. He walked around with a big tray and claimed what he had in the tiny flower pots were fully grown trees, fifteen years old at least. One even had a ripe tangerine hanging from its branches. Then two men rode bicycles with only one wheel and no handlebars. Then it came to the last, and most dazzling, show of the night. A lank, bony old man with disheveled hair and a long beard walked on shards of glass. They said all he ate was an almond a day. After he balanced himself cross-legged on the tip of his long walking stick, he asked for the planks that covered the hoez to be removed. Once the hoez was open again and the light from the lanterns shimmered off the surface of the water, the old man closed his eyes, dropped his stick and gingerly put a first step on the surface of the water. Everyone was dead quiet. He placed the second step in front of the first and started walking without sinking as if he was made of feather. It was so quiet Ahmad could hear the slight splashing the man’s soles made against the water. He paced along the length of the hoez and back a number of times. After he stepped out, he dried his feet with the loincloth he had wrapped around his waist.
Time came for the paperwork to make the marriage official before God and Shah alike. The women took the groom and Mulla Ali inside. Khan, the father and brother of the groom, together with some closer male relatives, joined them. The bride and groom sat on chairs at the wedding spread in front of a mirror with everyone else behind them. Mulla Ali composed the marriage contract and handed it to the groom to sign, but before Mohammad Reza put the pen to paper, his mother said, “I think we should wait.” The tip of the pen stopped midair. A hole opened up in Pooran’s heart, sucking her blood into an abyss. The groom’s mother no doubt suspected the lies Pooran had woven together with the earnestness that only truth could bring. The story she’d told—of the message that came two days before on a folded paper, stamped and signed by Colonel Doost, asking for Nosser’s immediate departure to join the carabineers—cracked and collapsed at the woman’s simple words. Pooran bent her head, closed her eyes, and accepted defeat. “We wish the bride’s father could have been with us today,” the woman went on. “But we appreciate his sacrifice and pray for his life and his safe return.”
Pooran lifted her head and opened her eyes with a smile.
When the bride signed the contract, cries of happiness rose from those in the room. Mulla Ali recited what was necessary and showers of sugar plum rained on the couple as Pooran and the groom’s mother took turns rubbing together two sugar cones over the bride and groom’s heads.
Maryam left the next day, hugging her family and friends with a smile as she had promised her mother. No matter how much they insisted, Pooran did not walk with the others to the Shemiron Road to see off the newlyweds on their way to Tehran. Behind the wheel of the Aegean-blue Delahaye coupe, the groom waited for Maryam to say goodbye to her kith and kin. With his hands in his pockets, Ahmad stood at a distance and watched his sister hug the women and kiss Khan’s hand.
“Now you’re the man of the house,” Maryam whispered in his ear. Ahmad locked his arms around her. “You take care of Mother. You promise?” Ahmad nodded his head against her chest. “I will miss you,” Maryam whispered.
The groom revved the engine, stuck his arm out the window, and waved goodbye, then the fog devoured the coupe. In her room, Pooran hung up all of her colorful clothes in the wardrobe and put on black for her husband and daughter. She accepted Khan’s offer to move from her house to the Orchard. The main house had more than enough rooms for Pooran and Ahmad. All through the packing, although he helped with the diligence of a boy who had been promised a treat in exchange for the task, Pooran wondered if Ahmad hated the idea of moving, because no matter what, he did not speak