wet odor. The empty and eerily quiet ghost city of Tabriz looked its best, still sleeping under the safety net of the imposed curfew hours. The city dazzled the eyes, shining in the morning sun, as shiny as it must have undoubtedly appeared to Marco Polo, who was amazed by its beauty when passing through Persia on his way to China, centuries ago.
Small groups of rugged looking Revolutionary Guards in military vehicles waved at the bus driver from almost every corner, each time giving some comfort to the passengers, assuring them they were in good hands. Several blocks further, the bus stopped abruptly at the corner of Shah Esmael Boulevard and Satar Khan Avenue. Two obviously friendly Revolutionary Guards, both bearded, one in his early twenty, the other one slightly older than the other, with automatic weapons hanging over their shoulders, casually boarded the bus. After shaking hands with the guards, the bearded man offered a seat to the older guard, sat next to him, and started a friendly conversation in a low tone of voice.
The other guard stood upright in the aisle, filled his lungs edgily with air, and suspiciously examined all the passengers before sitting on an empty seat across from them. His intense examining gaze added more fear to the hearts of the passengers, which were already full of fright and anxiety.
No sound was in the air except the monotonous, invasive roar of the old bus’s engine as it kept weaving through the streets of the old city that was waking from its long night’s sleep. The coming of the bright morning light had completely erased the night’s darkness by now and was shining on the city’s washed-up face.
Once they put a few miles between themselves and the last of the city buildings, heading northeast, the bearded man abruptly interrupted his whispered conversation with the guard. He rose to his feet, bent slightly, and looked outside, checking their progress by the landscape. He faced the worried passengers and announced loudly, “Listen to me please. ...You're gonna’ be taken through the city of Shabestar, over the north shore of Lake Rezaeih, to the west of the city of Salmas. This brother (pointing to the younger guard) is gonna be with you up to that point. There you'll be handed over to a guide. From that point on, it'll take three days of hiking to reach the border. I hope you’re all in good shape for the hike. I'm gonna get off near Salmas. You got any questions you better ask now.” His glance drifted over the passengers, expecting for some questions.
Despite so many questions racing through their minds, such as, what is our chance of success? What if we get caught? Would they kill us all?, no one dared utter a word. Their silence signified that they were perhaps holding tight onto the last shreds of expectation – hope – that they would soon be freed from the chaos revolution had brought into their lives.
He sat and continued his conversation with the guards, this time, intensely haggling and arguing over the shares of revenue from their ingenious underground enterprise. Furrowing his brows in an expression of disapproval, the older guard seemed to run out of patience. He snapped his fingers, demanding his share of the revenue – the bribe money. Disappointed at not having other options, the bearded man promptly pulled out a bundle of bills wrapped with a rubber band from the inside of his untidy jacket pocket. He hesitantly handed the precious bundle to the guard whose frown suddenly changed to a wide grotesque grin as he laid eyes on all that colorful cash.
The lanky man and the tall elderly man were the only ones who alertly witnessed the transfer of the money. Their disgust was silently but clearly reflected on their faces.
The bearded man then left his seat and sat next to the woman whom he had helped in the hotel. Drowsy, she looked like she was between naps.
“Are you okay?” he asked with a kind voice.
The question woke her. Startled, she straightened her posture and, without looking at him, she replied softly, “Yes, I am.”
“Oh, I’m sorry I woke you.”
“That’s all right.”
“Is there anything I can do for you?” he asked with the same tone.
“No ... you've done enough ... thanks a lot ... I won't forget it,” she said in a sincere voice. For the first time in many years, she genuinely meant what she said to a man.
“I've some business in Salmas. Otherwise, I’d come with you to the border ... and even to Turkey, to help you get on your way. You know, another group’s coming through ... I gotta take care of them.” He hesitated for a moment and spoke in a friendlier and more reassuring tone, “You don't have to worry about a thing, the guides will take good care of you. It’s part of the deal I have with them.” After a long pause, signifying as if he has run out subject, he finally asked, “Do you need any money?”
She lifted her veil, glanced at him and let a faint smile part her lips, and only then replied, “No ... but thanks.” She reached up to his face with her visibly trembling right hand and touched him gently, as though trying to imprint his face on her mind – a mind that was cluttered with scattered of the most unpleasant memories of recent tragic events beyond any soul’s forbearance.
“You know what? This ... this sweetness is, for sure, the only good thing I'm gonna miss about this goddamn place, this shit hole,” she murmured in his ear. Then the thought went through her mind. I need this small crumb of sweetness, otherwise how in hell will I make it with all the pain and hurt about to burst inside me? Her thought was followed by some incoherent whispered words, only to console and comfort herself.
He reached for her hand and held it in his and felt her warmth. Sitting next to her, he couldn't help but think of the good old days, her golden days, when it would have been a great honor just to be seen in the company of such a celebrity in public. Conversely, she felt comforted that a stranger, who had acted so beastly towards her the night before, could now be so caring, for she was certain that he expected nothing in return for the warmth and kindness he was abundantly offering her. For the first time in a very long time, as far back as her childhood, she felt genuine pleasure at having someone around – especially a man – someone who dug deeper, to find more than first impressions suggested.
He left her after a long hour of affectionate and pleasant conversation to sit behind the driver again.
Once she was alone, the last residue of taryak, with its mysterious and potent sedative power still going up and down her veins, caused her mind to wander, putting her in a twilight zone, the expanse of a never-never land that exists between hallucination and reality. Drifting backward to the dark labyrinth of her past, a past crowded with sorrows, she searched for a few sparks of happiness. She was frantically looking for the events and places that surrounded those happy moments, even though they were infrequent occurrences in her tumultuous life. She wanted to retrieve them, to look at them, as sober-mindedly as her present condition would allow, find those few scarce moments of joy. She had to reach way back to her early childhood, but once she reached that subdivision of her life, she could still hear the echoes of her mother’s domineering voice. The voice that carried harsh words kept bouncing against her head’s walls until every word registered in meticulous clarity in her mind.
“From the day you were born, you've been nothing but a pain in the ass!” Esmat, known as “Fat Esmat” to everyone, shouted at her little girl. “Didn't I tell you, just sit there and don't move?! Goddamn you! Sit and don’t move or I'll kill you! Did you hear what I said, you little shit?”
Her mother’s threatening words scared her so much that she could only respond by nodding. A minute or so later, when the echoes of her mother’s threatening words dissipated and were forgotten in her joyful young mind, she moved slightly. Esmat noticed her move. She rose, walked to where her little girl was trying to fight boredom by playing, and smacked the side of little Fatemeh’s face viciously with her coarse wet hand. A lump in the little girl’s throat broke loose,
