be. Let's get this thing over with,” she replied, sounding subdued and withdrawn.
“Then, let’s get your things together and go. There are other people waiting in the lobby,” he said in a soft voice that could be mistaken for timidity.
Still noticeably under the influence of taryak, opium, smoked plentifully two nights earlier, along with countless shots of imported Russian aragh, vodka, drunk the night before, she staggered and could hardly maintain her balance as she rose and walked around aimlessly. Her body motions didn’t bear the slightest resemblance to those of someone getting ready to leave.
Finding her disoriented, he rushed to help her in gathering her few belongings, jamming them into a brown suitcase and a black leather handbag. Packing done, holding her arm with one hand and carrying her suitcase with the other, he patiently helped her leave the room. With necessary pauses in their steps, they approached the stairs to the lobby, where more than half a dozen people were eagerly waiting on that fine early April morning.
Except for two couples, the rest were totally strangers to one another. They were gathered to start a clandestine journey – an escape from a land entangled in turbulence to the freedom they hoped and dreamed was waiting for them beyond the Iran-Turkish border. Perhaps, the singular thing they had in common with each other was the gloom and despair on their faces and the weight of fear in their hearts. And certainly the only thing that sustained them so far was the hope they kept alive in their hearts.
Anxiously waiting in the lobby was a young beautiful, green-eyed woman in her thirties who sat quietly but bolt upright on the edge of an old couch. Her face radiated an obvious aura of sobriety. Her soft skin was unblemished and bright as white porcelain, even though she wore no makeup. The green scarf over her blonde hair was a few shades darker than her eyes. At her side sat a boy and a girl in their early teens, both with an obvious resemblance to the woman. To her left sat a tall lanky attractive man in his early sixties, silver-haired, with proportionate manly features. With his calm and composed demeanor, he was the sort of man whose exterior demanded immediate attention and respect. Across from them another tall man, almost the same age as the lanky man, and a fully covered woman with dark clothes, were sitting on another but smaller old couch. Next to them sat a slight, seemingly stressed out, grayish man, also in his early sixties, with a bulging potbelly that covered his belt. A short dark-complexioned man in his late forties, his head wrapped with gauze with a large spot of dried blood clearly visible on the left side, sat quietly on a nearby chair. Most of his face was covered with an untrimmed black beard. He held his head shyly down, staring at his knees – an obvious attempt to keep things to himself and avoid attention.
Somber, appearing determined and rather self-assured, a tall young man in his late twenties with a wispy beard and shaggy, curly brown hair stood next to a slightly younger, slender, and attractive woman in a corner near the entrance. No matter how nonchalantly they tried to present themselves, they were still unable to present a convincing outwardly calm bearing to cover their anxiousness. For protection, support, or for a display of affection the woman was comfortably leaning on the man. Except for him, everyone else in the group looked tired and lethargic. The mood was conspicuously nihilistic.
The lobby was so quiet that the buzzing of a bunch of confused and stubborn flies around the room was clearly audible. The people waiting in the lobby appeared to be wrapped in their own blankets of anonymity, with faint hopes that those covers would help take them across the border to unknown places – places they assumed, hoped, would be safer than the intolerable living conditions in their homeland – a homeland where the recent turmoil had not only sharply limited their ambitions, but had brought life-threatening danger to their very existence. Some had already lost their strength to think, and others deliberately didn’t want to think that where they were hoping to go could be nothing but an illusion – a big mirage.
Mismatched and misplaced as they appeared, it was obvious that they fearfully were trying to avoid eye contact. They appeared as if they were determined to keep the few sparks of hope for freedom that flickered in their hearts to themselves. Whenever they inadvertently caught one another’s eyes, it was a look tainted with obvious mistrust.
Except for the red-eyed, sleepy man behind the desk, who never even attempted to cover his big mouth when he repeatedly yawned, there was no other hotel employee in the lobby so early in the morning. Now and then, between his yawns, he nonchalantly cast insignificant glances towards the people in the lobby.
The bearded man and woman from upstairs slowly entered the lobby to join the others. As they approached the bottom of the stairs, it took some effort and his assistance for her to cover her tired face with a black veil to avoid being recognized by the others.
He released her arm, approached the group, and motioned the young man and woman standing near the entrance to join the others. In the manner with which they all reacted to his demand and gathered around him apparently anxious to hear what he had to say, it was apparent that they all knew him well from their previous encounters with him.
“Please listen carefully. I’m sure that this is the day you have all been waiting for. A minibus and a driver waiting outside,” the man with the curly beard spoke authoritatively, as though he had issued this directive many times before. His voice was harsh but clear and to the point. His eyes shifted uncontrollably as he spoke. “We're all gonna get on it. I don't want anybody to do anything out of the ordinary. We don't want to be noticed. The city is full of Revolutionary Guards. I only know a few of them; the rest can get crazy ideas and cause us a lot of grief. I hope you understand what I’m telling you.”
He paused and looked around with a piercing gaze for signs of understanding. They nodded and he went on, “You go first with your children, but don't rush,” he pointed to the blonde woman.
She rose quietly, helping her children. Clutching their few belongings, they left the lobby with hesitant steps. He then sent out the lanky man who had been with the woman and the children, followed by the woman he had helped down the stairs, the elderly couple, the young couple, the little old nervous man, and, lastly, the man with the bloody head wound – all by simply pointing his finger.
They were all quietly seated in the old bus when the bearded man rushed in and joined them, surveying them quickly while flashing a smile at the driver. The blonde woman sat with her daughter while her son occupied the seat behind her with the tall lanky man beside him. Except for the two couples, everyone else occupied seats alone. No one spoke a word. They could almost hear each other’s hearts beating. The air was saturated with fragments of uncertainty and fear.
Assured that all the passengers were boarded, the bearded man left the bus unexpectedly to join an old couple on the sidewalk. He placed his arm around the man, pointed to the couple they had accompanied to the lobby, shook the man’s hand and returned to the bus hurriedly. With a motion of his right hand he signaled the driver to move, “Let’s get going, man!” The driver pushed the long stick shift into first gear and slowly released the clutch. The bus made a scratchy noise and began to move forward. The couple on the sidewalk, with moist eyes, wordlessly waved goodbye to their friends.
The bearded man sat on the seat behind the driver, a young man in his late twenties, also bearded, dressed in battle fatigues, who very much resembled a Revolutionary Guard. The bearded man placed his hands on the top of the driver's seat, leaned over and whispered in his ear.
Dawn’s milky light in the eastern sky was slowly sweeping away the night's lingering darkness. Moments later, the eastern horizon brightened with the coming of sunrise, shining brilliantly, promising a beautiful day. Straight above, the sky was a radiant light blue, but it turned darker blue as it stretched along to the west. The streets were wet from an early morning April shower from clouds that had blanketed the night sky until the coming of dawn but now no longer lingered. The pavements looked washed and clean. The air was soft, slightly chilly, perfumed with the
