Chapter 34

A few days went by, and I was full of ups and downs about how realistic it was that I would be awarded custody of Tavoos. I tried to look up some of my old friends, but I couldn’t reach any of them— either their phone numbers had changed or they moved away from Tehran. Afsaneh’s mother answered the phone and said she was away in Paris. Uncle took me out for lunch again and we talked and talked about what we could hope for.

Then one morning, I woke to the doorbell’s sound. I put on my manteau and went to the hallway, where the mailman always dropped in the mail after ringing the bell.

I found two envelopes—one was from the family affairs court. Still standing in the hallway, I opened that first, with trepidation, and saw at a quick glance that the custody was official, with the restriction that I would need to live in Tehran until Tavoos was ten years old. Then I was allowed to change cities.

It had a signature and a seal. My happiness was so integrated with my grief for losing Tala that I burst into tears. I sat down on the step near the door until I calmed down and then opened the second envelope. It was from Mercy Home. My eyes quickly ran over the words.

Dear Roya Toorani,

I am writing to inform you that we have approval from the family affairs court for you to go to Mercy Home on 15 Mohammadi Street. You can meet Tavoos and interact with him before you take him out. Except for Fridays, any time from 1:00–5:00 p.m. is fine. Someone will lead you inside to the appropriate person.

Karman Legabi, Associate Director, Mercy Home.

It was Wednesday. Feeling urgent to get there as soon as possible, I had a quick breakfast, took a shower, and got dressed. Then I looked at myself in the mirror. How much did I resemble Tala, now older and having had vastly different experiences from hers? Would Tavoos take me to be her, or would he notice the differences? The thoughts going around my mind left me both excited and anxious.

I still had a few hours before I could go to Mercy Home. I quickly made up what once was Tala’s bed with sheets and a blanket I found in a closet for Tavoos until I could buy a bed appropriate for him. Then I went to the toy store on Jamaly Avenue and bought a few things, and to the children’s clothing shop and bought immediate necessities— pajamas, a sweater, T-shirts, pants. I would be able to make some of his clothes myself. Next to the store was a shop that had freshly prepared meals. I bought kuku and meatballs, good for children and adults, so that we could have them together when I brought him home.

Back in the house, I put the food in the refrigerator and the toys on a shelf against the wall in the room, adding to them the red ball I had brought in from the courtyard on the way back to the storage room. Engaging in these activities uplifted me and at the same time made me apprehensive that something still could go wrong, and I would have to wait to remove more obstacles before I could take Tavoos home.

Mercy Home was a sprawling two-story yellow brick building that covered a whole block. I rang the bell, and a young man with a full beard opened the door. He introduced himself as Jamal, an assistant to Delaram Jobrani, the director, and led me inside.

A row of rooms lined one side of the courtyard. Jamal pointed to one of them and said, “Tavoos lives in that room with two other boys. Some of the boys have their residence in the building across the street.” He paused by a room on the other side of the children’s rooms. He went inside and came out in a moment. “Delaram Jobrani will see you.”

A woman, about fifty years old, wearing a navy-blue manteau and a headscarf almost the same shade of blue, was sitting behind a desk. She greeted me and I sat on a chair across from her. A framed photograph of a group of boys and a small vase holding flowers stood on the desk.

“As a formality, can you show me the letter you received from the family court?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said, and I took it out of my pocketbook.

She looked at it and gave it back to me. “You’re lucky that everything lined up in your favor.” She slid a newspaper cutting across the desk toward me. I picked it up and read it, my heartbeat accelerating.

Prior to the car accident, the Strategic Research Center, the organization affiliated with the Expediency Council, revealed that Anton Alexandrov had been conveying confidential information to Russia. He was under surveillance by the Intelligence Ministry. His first cousin, Maxim Alexandrov, at one time worked as a clerk for the Natanz branch of the Iranian National Petrochemical Company and was under suspicion for stealing money from the company. He was fired, but not arrested since there was no definitive proof of wrongdoing at the time. He subsequently began to work for Anton Alexandrov, and finally, it was established that the two cousins were stealing from the company’s different branches and depositing most of the money in banks in Russia . . .

Though Tala had prepared me for something like this, I was still stunned to see it in writing.

“Maxim was arrested in Natanz and is in the local jail there,” she said after I read the article. “Now that it’s all settled, I can tell you certain things went in your favor. The Welfare Organization found other incriminating evidence against Maxim. He had tried to reverse Tavoos’s trust fund so that instead of being available when he turns eighteen, it would be available soon. He actually forged the document, but he got caught.”

“I never felt comfortable with either Anton or Maxim. I was concerned for Tala,” I said.

“We don’t get to know the man we marry beforehand. That’s a cultural dilemma.”

I wondered if she was married. She didn’t have a wedding ring on, but some people didn’t like to wear it. Reading my thoughts, she said, “I never got married. My parents were unhappy in their marriage and that made me wary of it.”

“Tala was regretful about her quick decision to accept Anton’s proposal.”

Delaram jumped to another subject. “There’s a place like Mercy Home for girls too. Here we teach the boys practical skills. They teach what they consider useful skills for girls.”

She lowered her eyes as if she could not bear seeing my reaction to what she was about to tell me. “There were bruises on Tavoos’s face and arms when the welfare workers brought him here. It wasn’t clear if they were left over from the car accident or if Maxim abused him.”

“Oh, so sad!” was all I could bring out, feeling weak hearing the heart-wrenching details.

“The wounds are healed now, I’m happy to say.” After a pause, she added, “Still, you have some legal battles ahead of you in regard to Tavoos’s inheritance. But the Welfare Office and Parvaneh Jahanbani, Tala’s lawyer, will sort things out. I was informed about your situation, marital status, and your willingness to stay in Tehran. They believe you are the perfect person to take care of Tavoos.”

We were interrupted by Morteza, another employee, knocking and then coming in, holding a suitcase in one hand and Tavoos’s hand in the other.

Tavoos was wearing blue pants and a pinstriped lemon-green and white shirt. He looked old for a four-year-old boy. He stared at me, perhaps trying to assess if I was his mother.

Then he dropped his gaze. His shoulders were shaking a little, making my heart ache for him.

“This is your Aunt Roya,” Morteza said to him gently. “I told you she would be coming for you.”

Tavoos was silent. Then he burst into tears.

I picked him up, held him to my chest, and kissed him. I wiped his tears with tissues I took from a box on Delaram’s desk.

Delaram got up and kissed Tavoos and kissed my cheek too.

Morteza, a heavy-set young man, accompanied me and Tavoos outside and hailed a taxi for us. He gave the suitcase to the driver to put in the trunk, kissed Tavoos, and said, “We are going to miss you.”

Tavoos smiled with a shy expression on his face.

As the taxi drove to the house, Tavoos was quiet. He looked out of the window at the pedestrians and cars rushing by. Having him with me, taking him home, felt like going to sleep on a rainy night and waking to a clear sky full of sunshine.