when her son was accepted to college, “I should keep an eye on him. His father was one of those animals who scattered his seeds far and wide. His real grandfather was not much better either. It’s in their blood. You won’t believe me if I told you who he was. You just won’t. I’ll give you a hint: he’s a famous poet.”
* * *
—
AHMAD CELEBRATED THE REVOLUTION WITH everyone else, as a simple man amid the happy honking of horns and dancing and shouting. He went straight to Khan’s house, and hugged his mother free from fear. Within days, many of the generals and top officials of the previous regime were arrested. The revolutionaries were helped by the markings of an unknown group who left distinguishable scratches on the doors of traitors: the agents of SAVAK, the top brass.
Within two weeks, Pooran invited the whole family to reunite and celebrate. She walked with difficulty, but she could not sit still. With her children and grandchildren taking care of everything, there was not much for her to do. She walked around the house and watched them at work. Leyla, Maryam, and Parveen did most of the cooking. Lalah was pregnant, but strongheaded as she was, she refused to sit and rest. Parveen’s children and Behrooz kicked at a ball in the garden. It would not be too long before they too would have their own babies. Time went fast. Sitting in his wheelchair, with a blanket spread over his lap, Khan watched them from the veranda. Pooran rested her hands on Khan’s shoulders. Fluttering from branch to branch, sparrows chirped in the persimmon tree. Pooran felt a numbing calm settle within her and make her believe that everything was in its place now, and that all the rest could be peaceful. Life did not have to be defined by calamities. It could be uneventful. It could be just like when Khan and Agha sat by the hoez doing nothing. She had her winter. Now she deserved her spring.
When the guests were gone and the last rays of a bright sunset had turned the sky purple and orange, Pooran took one last look at the garden to make sure everything was in order and saw the ball the children were playing with in the lantanas. She put her slippers on and went down into the garden to pick it up. Walking back toward the house, with the ball in her hands, she saw from the corner of her eyes a metallic flash in the basement. For an instant, she was filled with a paralyzing horror as she made out the dark figure of a man lurking down there, but soon she recognized him. The whole time it took her to descend the four steps and open the narrow doors of the basement, she kept her eyes on him, although her weak vision showed her little of the uniform and the rifle. When she flicked the switch on, Nosser was standing in the middle of the basement, his left arm straight by his side, his right hand clasping the strap of the rusty rifle slung on his shoulder, pointing toward the low ceiling. The mud on his boots had dried into thick clumps, his uniform was dusty, and his young, bony face was dark with a few days’ stubble. He looked at her with hollow eyes in a face void of emotions. “I stopped hoping to see you again,” Pooran said with tears in her eyes.
“I’m happy,” Nosser said, though he did not seem happy. “Everyone was happy today.”
Pooran took a step ahead. “Can I hug you?” she asked. Nosser did not answer. Pooran put the ball down on the walnut table and slowly went to her husband, put her hand on his chest as if to make sure there really was someone under that dusty uniform, and then locked her hands behind him. “Am I going to be alone? Do I need a guard again?” Nosser did not answer. The basement felt outside of time. Finally, Pooran detached herself from her husband and said, “Let’s go up and get you cleaned.” She held his hand, but Nosser did not move.
“Not now,” he said, “but maybe later.”
The ball had rolled very slowly toward the edge of the table, and now fell and bounced a few times. Pooran and Nosser watched it roll on the floor and come to a rest.
* * *
—
LIKE EVERYTHING ELSE, THE HIGH school Ahmad had taught in