Chapter Twenty-Five

The end of the school year was rapidly approaching and the freedom of another summer to tool around without the responsibilities of school had us all buzzing with impatience. The end of the year also brought with it Neda’s birthday.

She was turning twenty-six and had decided she was going to throw herself a big birthday bash at her house in the Palisades. Her family owned a large estate that sat on top of the hill, overlooking a breathtaking view of the city lights and ocean. I’d been there multiple times since Maziar and I had broken up. However, this would be the first time that we would both be there together.

I was beyond nervous about seeing him again. We hadn’t spoken since the night at the restaurant. Since then, Ben and I had continued on the journey of rebuilding our relationship. It had been five months and things were good. They were better than good; they were great. We had fallen back into our familiarity. At first, he was apprehensive, building a protective wall between us. I remained patient, knowing he needed time to trust me again. He’d finally let go and let me back in.

When I approached him about the party, he nonchalantly agreed to go, but my gut knew this would be an unspoken test, one that I would surely need to pass. If I showed the slightest sign of wavering, our glass tower would come toppling down, leaving us by its wayside.

If I was honest, there was a part of me that wanted to see Maziar, the part I had put to sleep and locked away months ago. I knew things were over and I wasn’t toying with the idea of a future between us, but my heart ached to see his face, watch his eyes light up when he spoke, hear the deep rumble of his laugh. I didn’t share my feelings with anyone, not even Leyla, fearing that if I said them out loud, they would take shape, becoming a monster I couldn’t control. I needed to stay strong, remain passive, show Ben he was my only. I needed to keep my feelings locked away so they couldn’t hurt any of us anymore.

I had driven home Friday night to be with my family for the weekend. We had our customary family dinner, followed by a backgammon tournament. When I’d finally gone to bed, I’d spent most of the night tossing and turning, trying to play out the different scenarios that could happen when I saw Maziar. I had no clue if he was seeing anybody. He could very well show up with a girl on his arm. Although that would be hard to see, it would be the easiest of scenarios for both of us. I felt like Neda would have warned me if that were the case, and I wondered if she’d told him that I would be showing up with Ben.

At eight in the morning, I gave up hope on getting any real sleep and rolled out of bed. I grabbed my headphones, kissed Mom goodbye, and went for a long run. I’d become accustomed to pushing my body to its furthest limits, relishing the physical pain that distracted me from the thoughts and emotions wearing me down.

When I got home, she was sitting at the kitchen table with two hot cups of tea, waiting for me. This had become our new Saturday morning ritual. I would wake up and go for a run while Mom fed the men. Then, we would have some girl time, just the two of us, over our cups of hot chayee and scrambled eggs.

When I entered the kitchen, the smell of butter filled my nose, making me nostalgic for my youth. Mom’s eggs were always the best. Only she could make the room fill with that heavenly smell. It always transported me to when I was a child, filling me with a sense of comfort I equated only with her.

“Hi, azizam. How was your run?” she asked.

“It was good.”

“I don’t know how you can do so much running. If you’re going to do it every day, you have to eat more. Your grandmother is going to think I’m starving you!” she said. I laughed at her, a grown woman still afraid of her mother’s disapproval.

I supposed we all spent our lives seeking our mother’s approval, regardless of our age. I wasn’t sure if that was just a child-parent thing or a Persian thing. Either way, it was a destiny that seemed to hover over us all.

She placed the eggs and pita bread in front of us and took her seat across from me.

“Your khaleh called this morning to tell me that Ellie got engaged last night. Pouyah took your uncle out last week for coffee to officially ask his permission to marry her,” she said. Ellie had been set up with him a year ago by one of my aunt’s friends.

No Persian girl was a stranger to the tedious matchmaking of her female relatives. There was always someone’s nephew, grandson, or neighbor, off to medical school or law school, that your mother, aunt, or grandmother was singling out for you as a potential mate. They were like ants scurrying up an ant hill, trying to be the first to sink their claws into the next “great catch.” I was always being solicited by the women in my family to set up one blind date after another. At get-togethers, someone was always pointing this boy, or that boy, out to my cousins and me. It was the Iranian way, to broker pairings in hopes of saving daughters from becoming old maids. If we were still single at the ripe old age of thirty-two, all hope was lost among them. It was frustrating but fascinating to watch the women scoping out the young men for their daughters. They had it down to an art.

Mom had gotten better where Ben was concerned. We had gone to dinner with my parents a few times and they were always cordial. I knew she didn’t put much weight on our relationship, though, secretly hoping that we would break up. Luckily, she was smart enough to know that outwardly fighting me on it, or being rude to him, would cause our fragile truce to break down again. The closeness between us had just started reestablishing itself, becoming each other’s confidantes again. Neither of us wanted to do anything to mess that up.

Mamanbozorg, however, had become even more relentless in her crusade to teach me the ill of my ways. In her mind, I’d completely failed her. Ben was not only Christian, but also Caucasian, nowhere near what she required in my mate. It had put a large rift between us, our relationship no longer what it used to be.

“Sara, I wanted to seriously talk to you about something that has me worried.”

I had to suppress the moan threatening to escape. I hated these “serious” talks Mom always wanted to have with me. They were inevitably about how I was lacking in one way or another.

I braced myself for what she was going to say, reminding myself not to react. I’d found it easier to just listen and seem like I agreed rather than trying to defend my choices. In the end, I still made my own decisions, but letting my parents think they had some say in it saved me some heartache.

“I’m concerned about you going to Neda’s birthday tonight. I’m pretty certain that Maziar is going to be there, since she’s his cousin. I’m just worried that seeing him again may not be the best decision for you right now,” she said.

“Why?” I asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

She looked at me, motherly worry evident in her eyes. She knew that Maziar was a very sensitive subject for me, and I could see she was trying to tiptoe around her words in an attempt to avoid setting me off. Were my feelings for him so transparent that even Mom wasn’t convinced that I was over him? If that were the case, then I’d fail miserably tonight. Ben would see right through me.

“I’m worried that you’ll see him and end up upset again. You’ve been doing so well lately without him. You know that he isn’t any good for you. Maziar is a good boy but his family doesn’t want you and you deserve better than that.”

She recited one of my grandmother’s sayings, “Hamoon ash, hamoon kaseh,” which translated into “the same stew, the same bowl.” It meant that no matter how many times I went back to Maziar, it would result in the same outcome. Nothing would have changed.

“Don’t worry, Mom. I’m going to be fine. Maziar and I probably won’t even talk. Plus, Ben will be there with me. I doubt we’ll even end up in the same room. We’ll be avoiding each other,” I said, with more confidence than I felt. “Seeing him won’t be a big deal.”

“That’s the other thing. You saw what happened the last time the three of you ran into each other. I really don’t want you to be stuck in all that drama again.”

“I’ll be fine,” I said, brushing her off.

“Okay,” she said, the doubt obvious.

She popped a sugar cube into her mouth and went back to drinking her tea. Neither of us brought the party up again, but Maziar loomed in the kitchen for the rest of our breakfast. Once we were done, I went to my room and threw myself on the bed. It was bad enough that I was nervous about seeing him while I was with Ben, but now I had to worry about disappointing my mom as well.

At about six thirty, I started getting ready. By the time I got dressed, my room looked like a bomb had exploded in my closet. We were in the throes of spring and the weather was warm, so I settled on a long, turquoise maxi dress that tied at my waist. I had a thin gold chain on with a single pearl pendant that sat in the dip of my neck. My hand nervously played with it.

I stood in front of the mirror and looked at the person reflected back at me. Time had changed her from the naïve girl who thought love was filled with rose petals and rainbows to the cautious, tired one standing before me. I used to think that I would meet my Prince Charming and he would sweep me off my feet into a life of happiness and hope like in fairy tales. Now, I knew that life was much more complicated. I was heading out to stand across the yard from one man while on the arm of another, and I loved them both. My head knew that I was treading on thin ice, and if the floor beneath me were to shatter, I would find myself trapped in its freezing water.

I couldn’t go back there. Each time I returned to the place that held dreams of Maziar, I came back a little more broken, my resolve even more weakened than the time before. I was now living a different story, one that had Ben as the lead. I hung onto his image tightly, reminding myself that I was happy.

The drive over to Neda’s was a quiet one. I was lost in anxiety, Ben deep in thought, neither of us sure of how the night would unfold. Leyla was with us, sitting as quietly as she could in the back seat, trying to be invisible. I was so preoccupied with the possible scenarios of the evening that I was startled when Ben turned the car off.

“You ready?” he asked, as he looked at me stoically.

“Of course,” I chirped, trying to convince both of us I was totally fine. I kept telling myself I could do this. I could see Maziar again.

I took one last deep breath and stepped out into the unknown of the night. On shaky legs I walked to the front door, grasping Neda’s gift with such conviction that my fingers were crushing its edges. The door was wide open, beckoning her guests to the warmth of its confines. I reached out and held Ben’s hand before we went inside.

We were greeted with a crowd of close to fifty people, bodies jammed into the front room of the house like sardines. I was stuck in a terrified haze as my eyes quickly darted back and forth, searching. The crowd parted slightly and I spotted Neda at the far end. She was standing at the sliding door leading into her backyard. I could see the ceiling of twinkle lights beyond the glass, sparkling magically in the night. The light was framing her body, giving her the appearance of glowing. She saw us approaching before we reached her, and her eyes lit up like they always did when she saw me.

“Sara!” she squealed in her usual Neda fashion.

She threw her arms around me and squeezed me with genuine affection. Then, she introduced us to the friends she was talking to and we engaged in a few minutes of socializing. Neda placed her arm around my waist while Ben was talking to one of her friends, pulling me closer to her.

“He’s out back,” she whispered into my ear, then winked and walked away to greet the newest arrivals.

Leyla turned and asked us if we wanted to get a drink. The bar was situated in the backyard. I tried to deter her with my eyes, but she was too busy gawking at the boy in front of her to notice. My stomach churned with nerves as Ben grabbed my hand, following Leyla outside.

I quickly scanned the yard; it didn’t take me long to spot him. He stood across the way, by the fruit trees lining the back wall. He was talking to a few of Neda’s friends. They looked familiar, but I couldn’t place them.

We stopped in front of the bar. Ben walked up to order our drinks, and I allowed myself a second to look at Maziar. Every time I saw him, it still felt like the first time. My heart would beat furiously and I’d get lightheaded as my body synced with his. I would feel the familiar gravitational pull from across the room. This time was no different.

He was in a pair of dark blue jeans and my favorite pair of gray Converse shoes. I couldn’t help but wonder if he’d worn them knowing I’d be here. He looked more tanned than before, his skin glowing against his light green T-shirt, his dark hair looking more stark in contrast. He’d grown his facial hair out; it was now a scruffy, cropped beard. It made him look older.

He must have felt me staring because he suddenly looked in my direction. Our eyes locked, and I felt the magnetism urging me in his direction. He stared at me, making my heart pound against my rib cage, trying to burst free from my chest.

Ben had the drinks and was turning toward me. I saw his movement from the corner of my eye. I forced myself to look away from Maziar. I was not going to have a repeat of the club. I reminded myself that I was with Ben. It was time to stand by my choice. Maziar was better kept as a memory.

He politely excused himself from the conversation and I breathed a sigh of relief as he started toward the house. He disappeared into the crowd of the living room. I told myself that if I could just keep us on opposite sides of the party all night, I’d be okay.

“You okay, doll?” Ben asked, as he handed me my drink.

“Yup, I’m fine.” I tried to keep my tone nonchalant and light.

The night continued with an unspoken agreement between Maziar and me. We existed in opposite hemispheres, avoiding each other. I stole a few glances at him from the corner of my eye even though I knew I shouldn’t. I watched him dazzle a beautiful blonde with his irresistible charm, debate with a group of guys over a recent basketball game, and lend a tender ear to Neda as they discussed something that appeared serious. All the while, I leaned into Ben, hung on to his words, held his hand, continuously proving myself.

Later in the evening, I went inside to use the bathroom. I saw Maziar talking to a few people in the backyard and figured it was safe. But as I opened the door to head back outside, I stopped abruptly in my tracks. He stood there, leaning against the wall, waiting for me.

I started to panic, realizing there was no way to leave without walking past him. I froze, trying to think. He looked at me and our eyes locked. Everything started to move in slow motion, my thoughts becoming fuzzy and incoherent. I knew I should push past him, make my way back out to Ben, but I couldn’t get my feet to obey.

“Hi, Sara,” he said, his voice as familiar as my own.

“Hi,” I managed.

“So, what? Are we just going to ignore each other? Pretending you don’t see me, is that how you’re playing this now?” He immediately laid into me, the aggression in his voice harsh and unyielding. My throat dried shut making it difficult to speak. My lack of response irritated him further. “Oh, that’s nice, Sara. Now we’re not even talking.”

I wasn’t expecting anger. I shook my head trying to clear my thoughts, confused at his reaction to me. “Why are you so upset?” I asked.

“Are you serious? You’ve been ignoring me all night.” He ran his hand through his hair, causing it to look disheveled. “I get you’re here with your boyfriend, but…shit, you can’t even say hello?” I could see his eyes soften. Along with anger, there was the hurt of being ignored.

I felt his pain pull at the edges of my heart, increasing the pressure in my chest. I forced myself to push past it. The only emotion we needed right now was anger. I could work with anger; it would drive a wedge even further between us. Although it broke my heart to have him hate me, it would ensure that he wouldn’t try to reach out to me again. I was terrified of blowing up the little remaining between us, but I knew it was necessary for our survival. We needed to be free of each other, with no paths left to create any hope of finding our way back.

“What would be the point, Maziar?” I asked. “We don’t have anything left to say. At least, I don’t have anything left to say.”

I tried to keep my face calm as I watched my disinterest throw daggers at him. I kept reminding myself this was necessary; I’d chosen Ben.

“Look, I’m sorry I didn’t say hi, but I honestly don’t think we should pretend to be friends, because we aren’t. It’s just easier for everyone if we stay out of each other’s way.”

“What are you saying, Sara? Is this because of Ben? He doesn’t want to you to talk to me? Is that it?” he asked, accusingly.

I wanted to reach out to him, to shelter him from the pain I could visibly see I was causing. I wanted to tell him I was lying, that I did want to speak to him and that I wished there was a way to be in each other’s lives. Instead, I went in for the kill.

“No, Maziar. It’s because I don’t want to talk to you.”

I saw my words crush him before the strength of his anger took over. The hard set of his eyes returned and his face flushed with it. Before he could speak, Ben walked into the hallway. He glanced back and forth between us, sensing the tension.

“You doing okay, doll?” he asked, cautiously eyeing Maziar.

I turned toward him, acting as if Maziar no longer existed. “I’m fine. Let’s go outside, babe,” I said, confidently.

Without glancing back, I made my way over to Ben and put my arm around his waist, guiding him outside. He turned and looked at me, the shock of my reaction rendering him speechless. I seemed strong, unaffected, slightly bored even, by what had just happened. On the inside, though, I was bleeding.

I spent the remainder of the night attached to Ben’s side. If his arm wasn’t around me, I was holding his hand. I intently listened to what he said, laughed at his jokes, remained interested. I didn’t scan the crowd looking for Maziar, but I knew he was nearby. I could feel the energy of his gaze boring through me.

I kept reminding myself that I’d moved on, that we needed to sever all ties, obliterate any possibility of a way back. It was the only way to let go. I needed to focus on my relationship, on moving forward. Ben deserved that.

I needed to leave Maziar behind.

I deserved that.

Ben pulled up to the front of the house and turned off the car. The house was dark, my family having gone to sleep hours ago. It was close to two in the morning, the street peaceful and quiet.

He turned toward me. I could see him from the corner of my eye but I continued to stare at the flickering street lamp in front of me. Breaking Maziar’s heart had left me bone-tired, too exhausted to broach the topic of how it had made Ben feel.

When I didn’t turn toward him, he reached out and ran his thumb gently down my cheek.

“You okay, doll?”

“I’m fine, babe. Just tired,” I replied, with a weary smile.

He slipped his hand behind my head and pulled me toward him. He softly placed his lips against mine and kissed me. I could feel a tenderness in them that wrapped itself around me, keeping me from falling apart. His warmth filled me as he continued to run his lips across mine. I inhaled his familiar smell, allowed myself to get lost in the comfort that was Ben.

When he finally pulled away, he stared into my eyes and said, “I love you.”

There was a new-found strength in his words. He didn’t need to say it, but I knew that he’d seen me choose him tonight, erasing the insecurities that he had felt before. I smiled, knowing I’d eased his mind. At least I’d done that much.

Although the part of me that belonged to Maziar felt heavy from breaking his heart, the part that was Ben’s danced around free and light. I hung onto to it, pushing the broken pieces of me further back into my mind. I had drawn another line in the sand, this time separating myself from Maziar. I was moving on.

“I love you, too.”