takes me, face to face, but he hides his eyes in my neck.
Look at me. Please. Look at me, I want to say.
When it’s over, he slides off me and curls up on his side.
I put my arms around him, wanting to absorb his pain, trying to hide my own. “Maybe it’s time we see someone.”
“You mean like a therapist?”
“It might help.”
“You’ve never mentioned it before.”
I prop myself up and look at him. “It’s not just about this. You’ve never talked to anyone about what happened.”
“There’s nothing to talk about. It’s behind us now.”
“But it’s still in here.” I put my hand on his heart. “Don’t you think it’s time you dealt with it?”
“What do you want me to do, Shayda? Do you want me to sit on a couch and tell some stranger that I can’t make love to my wife because every time I look at her, I see that monster?”
I let his words sink in.
That’s not what I want. What I really want is something else, someone else, and in my bid to run away from that, I’m putting my husband through hell.
“No,” I reply, suddenly exhausted. “Let’s go to sleep, Hafez. You’re here, I’m here, the kids are fast asleep in their rooms. That’s all that matters.”
We cling to each other, two souls from broken homes, determined to keep it together, to never let the claws of the past rip our family apart.
9. Poseidon
PAST
December 27th, 1982
Pasha Moradi. I remember the exact moment I heard the name. My whole world about to tip over and I stood, warm and clueless, in a beautiful crimson coat that Hafez had just bought for me.
It was a season of firsts. First winter, first Canadian christmas; the first time Hafez and I had three whole days to spend together.
We bought two slices of scalding hot pizza and stopped by a playground behind the apartment. Hafez brushed the dusting of fresh snow off the bench and smiled as I lined it with a napkin before sitting down in my new coat.
“You like it?” he asked.
It was more than he could afford. I was worried what Ma would say when we got home.
“It’s lovely.”
It felt a bit ridiculous, being tongue-tied around the man I’d been married to for over two months. But today, as he picked the red onions he knew I didn’t like, off my slice, I felt a curious warmth flood my heart. With that simple act, Hafez pushed aside all the doubts and anxiousness I had about us.
I bit into the doughy crust, the taste of melted cheese and tomatoes more delicious than anything I could remember. He did care. He cared for me. It was there in his eyes, a slight lifting of the gates, just enough space to let me crawl through to carefully guarded grounds. I wanted to sit there forever and watch the twinkling lights on the balconies.
“Do you roller skate?” I asked.
“Roller skate?” He looked amused. “No. Do you?”
“No.” I laughed. “I was just thinking about this couple I saw on the boardwalk, the day we met. They looked so happy.”
He took my gloved hand and held it quietly. “Shayda, I know we haven’t...I haven’t...”
The words wouldn’t come so he took a deep breath and tried again. “I know there are things you may not understand, but I do want us to be that couple. When I look at you, I see things I never dared imagine before. I want to give you everything that’s good in me, Shayda. I promise I’ll do whatever it takes to make you happy.”
My heart swelled. I felt like a big, red balloon, about to float away.
We walked hand in hand past the dumpsters behind the building. The warm blast of scented dryer sheets from the laundry room greeted us as we took the elevator. Hafez pulled me close and nuzzled my neck. I liked the feel of his stubble on my skin.
When we got to the apartment, Ma was so excited, she didn’t notice my new coat.
“Pasha Moradi, he call. He got papers. He move to Toronto! Stay here until he find place.”
“When?” asked Hafez. “When is he coming?”
“In two weeks,” said Pedar,
Look at me. Please. Look at me, I want to say.
When it’s over, he slides off me and curls up on his side.
I put my arms around him, wanting to absorb his pain, trying to hide my own. “Maybe it’s time we see someone.”
“You mean like a therapist?”
“It might help.”
“You’ve never mentioned it before.”
I prop myself up and look at him. “It’s not just about this. You’ve never talked to anyone about what happened.”
“There’s nothing to talk about. It’s behind us now.”
“But it’s still in here.” I put my hand on his heart. “Don’t you think it’s time you dealt with it?”
“What do you want me to do, Shayda? Do you want me to sit on a couch and tell some stranger that I can’t make love to my wife because every time I look at her, I see that monster?”
I let his words sink in.
That’s not what I want. What I really want is something else, someone else, and in my bid to run away from that, I’m putting my husband through hell.
“No,” I reply, suddenly exhausted. “Let’s go to sleep, Hafez. You’re here, I’m here, the kids are fast asleep in their rooms. That’s all that matters.”
We cling to each other, two souls from broken homes, determined to keep it together, to never let the claws of the past rip our family apart.
9. Poseidon
PAST
December 27th, 1982
Pasha Moradi. I remember the exact moment I heard the name. My whole world about to tip over and I stood, warm and clueless, in a beautiful crimson coat that Hafez had just bought for me.
It was a season of firsts. First winter, first Canadian christmas; the first time Hafez and I had three whole days to spend together.
We bought two slices of scalding hot pizza and stopped by a playground behind the apartment. Hafez brushed the dusting of fresh snow off the bench and smiled as I lined it with a napkin before sitting down in my new coat.
“You like it?” he asked.
It was more than he could afford. I was worried what Ma would say when we got home.
“It’s lovely.”
It felt a bit ridiculous, being tongue-tied around the man I’d been married to for over two months. But today, as he picked the red onions he knew I didn’t like, off my slice, I felt a curious warmth flood my heart. With that simple act, Hafez pushed aside all the doubts and anxiousness I had about us.
I bit into the doughy crust, the taste of melted cheese and tomatoes more delicious than anything I could remember. He did care. He cared for me. It was there in his eyes, a slight lifting of the gates, just enough space to let me crawl through to carefully guarded grounds. I wanted to sit there forever and watch the twinkling lights on the balconies.
“Do you roller skate?” I asked.
“Roller skate?” He looked amused. “No. Do you?”
“No.” I laughed. “I was just thinking about this couple I saw on the boardwalk, the day we met. They looked so happy.”
He took my gloved hand and held it quietly. “Shayda, I know we haven’t...I haven’t...”
The words wouldn’t come so he took a deep breath and tried again. “I know there are things you may not understand, but I do want us to be that couple. When I look at you, I see things I never dared imagine before. I want to give you everything that’s good in me, Shayda. I promise I’ll do whatever it takes to make you happy.”
My heart swelled. I felt like a big, red balloon, about to float away.
We walked hand in hand past the dumpsters behind the building. The warm blast of scented dryer sheets from the laundry room greeted us as we took the elevator. Hafez pulled me close and nuzzled my neck. I liked the feel of his stubble on my skin.
When we got to the apartment, Ma was so excited, she didn’t notice my new coat.
“Pasha Moradi, he call. He got papers. He move to Toronto! Stay here until he find place.”
“When?” asked Hafez. “When is he coming?”
“In two weeks,” said Pedar,
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