Maziar spent the next few hours in recovery. We all waited impatiently, the walls of the waiting room closing in on us as the minutes on the clock continued to tick by. Naghmeh sat in the corner by herself, periodically bursting into tears. The sound of her wailing had gone from heartbreaking to nerve-wracking as the patience continued to grow thin.
Finally, the nurse came in to tell us that he’d been moved to a private room and that we could see him. They only allowed two people to visit at a time, so naturally his parents went first. I paced back and forth with worry. I needed desperately to go in, but I had no idea if I’d be allowed to, with his mother and sister barring my way.
Parviz walked back into the waiting room. He appeared to have aged in the hour he’d spent by his son’s hospital bed. His shoulders hunched forward, the wariness in his gait even more apparent. The fluorescent lights overhead emphasized the gray in his hair, making it appear more dramatic, adding years to his appearance. His face looked gaunt and tired, the wrinkles making irregular patterns on his skin. His eyes were red and swollen, making it obvious that the sight of his son had broken his heart. He told us that his wife refused to leave Maziar’s side, so we had to go in one by one. Maziar’s aunt, Lily, went in next.
The air rushed out of me and I stood paralyzed with despair. His mother wasn’t going to leave the room, which meant I wouldn’t be allowed in. I was devastated and angry, with no idea what to do next. Neda stood up and came to my side. She grabbed my hand, breaking me out of my thoughts. I turned and looked at her, terrified at the prospect of not seeing Maziar.
“Don’t worry. You’ll be able to see him,” she said, still staring at her uncle’s broken figure as she spoke. “I promise.”
I don’t know how I expected her to rectify the situation, but in that moment, I wanted to believe her.
The next few hours were a revolving door of taking turns to sit with Maziar. Each person would go in, stay about an hour, then come out to give the next person a turn, while all the while his mother remaining vigilant by his side. I waited patiently, but as each new person went inside, the more consumed I became with worry over how Naghmeh would react. I continued to pace back and forth, trying to dissipate some of the nervous energy that bound my body tightly.
Neda was the last to go in from the family. She only spent about twenty minutes sitting with him. I had the distinct feeling she cut her visit short because she knew I was dying to get in there. When she came back into the waiting room, she looked at her uncle. A silent understanding passed between them as he stood up and walked toward me.
“Sara, let me show you where Maziar’s room is,” he said.
I was unable to form any words to convey my gratitude. He just gave me a weary smile, letting me know he knew how much it meant to me. I could visibly see Neda relax once he was leading me out of the room, his hand on the back of my arm, guiding me through the door.
We had to take an elevator down to the fifth floor. We stepped out, and he guided me toward the left. He stopped in front of room 515. I suddenly froze, the fear of what I would find behind it paralyzing me. He must have understood what I was thinking because he stepped in front of me and grabbed the door handle, looking me in the eye.
“Be brave. He needs you right now,” he said, as he pushed it open. I obediently followed.
Maziar lay on a large hospital bed with wires encircling him, attached to machines that beeped and hummed. They had intubated him. The sound of the inhalation and exhalation of the machine pumping air into his chest had a soothing, rhythmic pattern to it. I could no longer see his lips. They were taped around the tube that made its way into his lungs. He had a white bandage wrapped around his head, covering the skin where they shaved his hair. There was a cast on his right hand reaching past his wrist, and another covering almost his entire left leg, which was propped up on a stack of pillows.
The white sheets, the bandages, and the walls seemed to consume him in a sea of clouds. The lack of color accentuated his beaten and battered body, making his bruises the most prominent feature. He reminded me of a broken angel.
I didn’t notice his mother staring at her son’s ruined body, or his father standing beside me telling me it was okay. I didn’t notice the light above flickering ever so slightly or the nurse who came in to record the numbers on the machine. All I saw was the love of my life lying lifeless on the bed before me, unable to even do something as simple as breathe on his own. I felt a dam inside me break and a sea of emotion engulf me. My heart had no remaining surfaces left to shatter, so it decided to die altogether.
I blindly walked to Maziar’s side. I didn’t glance at Naghmeh, who hadn’t even noticed my presence. I fell into the empty chair beside his bed and reached out to grab the fingers peeking out from his cast. I intertwined them with my own, instantly feeling the familiar electricity flowing between us. I placed my other hand on his chest, making sure that his heart was still beating beneath the sea of tubes surrounding him. I felt its rhythm against my palm, relieved.
“Naghmeh,” Parviz said, “you should take a break, azizam. You’ve been sitting here with Maziar for hours. Why don’t we go for a walk, get a cup of chaye? Sara is with him. He’ll be okay.”
I looked at Maziar’s mother, waiting for her protest. Her husband’s voice jarred her and she suddenly looked up, as if she’d just noticed there were people in the room. She still had the confused, flustered expression she wore in the waiting room. She looked straight at me, but her eyes seemed glassy and uncomprehending. I wasn’t sure if she actually saw me.
The intensity of her grief had put her in an alternate world, one that only existed around the wires attached to her son. She seemed incapable of seeing anything further than that, including the girl she fought so desperately to remove from his life years before. She stood up as her husband gently coerced her out of the chair and allowed him to lead her out of the room. She never spoke a word.
I turned my attention back to Maziar. I looked at his battered face and could still see the beauty that lay beneath the purples and reds invading his skin. I put my hand against his face, and through my tears, I started to speak. I didn’t know if he could hear me but I was sure he could feel me there. I needed to fill the silence. I told him about everything that had led me to this moment, how scared I’d been when Neda had called me, that it was because of his father that I was even there, and that I thought Parviz had officially become our ally.
Then, I begged him to fight.
I don’t know how long I held his hand and whispered into his ear, but at some point I felt a presence behind me. I turned around and saw his mother standing in the doorway watching us. She looked at me for a minute, then walked over to the opposite side of Maziar’s bed and sat in her chair, placing his free hand in hers. We both held onto him, peacefully coexisting. We stayed that way, neither looking at the other, as we silently prayed for his recovery.
We sat together in the cold quiet of the hospital room for another hour. Shortly after, Maziar’s aunt came in and asked if she could get a turn.
“Of course, Lily Khanoom,” I said, leaning in and kissing Maziar’s cheek. “I’ll be back soon,” I whispered into his ear.
I walked to the waiting room and saw that within the past few hours more members of Maziar’s family had arrived. Pasha and Emanuel were also there, sitting next to Neda, who was looking at me with concern as I walked through the door. I paid them no attention as I made my way toward Parviz. He was standing at the other end of the room talking to his brother and two cousins. They all looked at me as I approached, which prompted him to turn around and face me.
I walked right up to him, tears streaming down my face, and threw my arms around him. He was startled at my sudden show of emotion, standing motionless for a few seconds. Then, he hugged me back.
“Thank you, Parviz Khan,” I said.
“You’re welcome,” he replied, providing a small beacon of light in the nightmare.
Everyone had gone silent, unsure how to interpret what they were seeing. Bita glared at me‒surprisingly, the only anger that could be felt within the room. I didn’t care what any of them thought; I was just grateful that Maziar’s father was able to finally recognize what Maziar and I had. He was able to push past his opinions and old traditions, unexpectedly planting a seed of hope in my chest. I could feel it starting to bloom around my heart.