Page 55 of Pride High 2: Orange
Once they were all seated at the dining room table—Mamani across from them both—Anthony asked the questions, since it made the setup feel more natural. She began by talking about her life as a little girl, which sounded simple and quaint compared to the world they had grown up in. Only when she got older did some of the larger cultural differences become evident.
“My final year of school was—” Mamani paused and said something under her breath in Farsi. “—seventh grade is what you might call it here? In my village, we had only a small school with two classrooms, one for the girls, the other for the boys. All ages were taught by a single teacher on each side. I adored going to school and was heartbroken when my father made me stop.”
“Why’d he do that?” Anthony asked.
“Because he thought it was best for his daughter,” Mamani said without any trace of animosity. “I was angry at the time, and for many years after. Looking back, I recognize that he was born in a different era. Isn’t that a scary thought, that someone could be more old-fashioned than me? That is how the world works. One day, your grandchildren will ask why you believed strange things when you were young, and you will have to explain how much has changed. In my time, very few girls were allowed to continue school past a certain age. It was even rarer that any of them had careers. We were expected to be good wives and mothers That was our purpose.”
“How did you learn English?” Anthony asked. “Or anything else? Were you allowed to read? You’re obviously very smart.”
“I’m glad you think so, Blondie,” Mamani said with a twinkle in her eye. Her pet name for him never failed to make him smile. “I learned in secrecy. With help. There was an older boy in our village. He was very handsome, when he didn’t have his nose buried in a book. I would often see him reading by the river. So one day, I asked him to read to me while I did my washing.”
“I know this story,” Omar interjected. “That’s my grandpa!”
Mamani nodded. “Correct. Ashraf was a very thoughtful boy. Not at all like the others. He seemed to enjoy my questions instead of becoming impatient with them. I told him of my frustration, and he agreed to teach me. Whatever I wanted to learn, I would tell him, and the next time we met, he would share what he found out about the subject. In that way, my education continued. When he confessed that I had caught his eye, I was very happy, because he never told me what to do. The other men in my life always thought they knew what was best for me. Ashraf was the only boy to ask what I needed, and when I answered, he would listen.”
Mamani grew quiet, her gaze distant. Anthony watched a subtle joy play across her face, making her appear more youthful. This eventually gave way to sorrow, and he realized that she must have been reliving glimpses of their relationship. All the way to the end. Although she did brighten up again. “What a wonderful man he was,” she said. “And how lucky we were to find each other.”
Anthony swallowed against his own rising emotion. “So um… How did you get from there to here?”
“Ah! Ashraf was a translator for Americans who were in Iran for charity work. He expressed an interest in studying abroad, and they were kind enough to help him. We were madly in love at that point and frightened that our families would discover the truth. My father didn’t approve of him. He wanted me to marry someone who had money, so that I would be taken care of. I wanted to follow my heart. Ashraf and I dreamt of leaving Iran so we could make our own decisions. And finally, we got our chance. But it also meant saying goodbye to each other.”
“Why?” Anthony asked, instantly worried about their fate. Which was silly, because they had clearly made it over here. His best friend was living proof.
“We weren’t married yet,” Mamani explained. “No scholarship allows you to bring someone with you. I waited four long years, certain that Ashraf would fall in love with an American girl and forget all about me. But when he got a job at the same university, he was able to send for me at last. I was so very excited! I always wanted to see the world, and when I heard that Ashraf was moving to the United States, I was delighted. From this country, you canexperiencethe entire world. Every culture finds a home here. And so did we. For years we had very little money, but it didn’t matter, because we had each other.”
“Wow,” Anthony said, not hiding his awe. “You gave up everything to move here? For love?”
“Not only for love,” Mamani said, “but for freedom as well. I didn’t want a daughter of mine to face the same limitations. I wanted her to flourish. And she has! Anja never would have become a doctor if she had been born in Iran. Especially with all the changes that followed. And her sister is an attorney. I’m very proud of them both. As for my grandson…” She shrugged with a playful smile. “We shall see.”
“I won’t let you down, Mamani,” Omar said.
“You never have,” she said, reaching across the table to place her hand over his. To Anthony’s surprise, she did the same for him. “I am so pleased by how you both have blossomed. You are special, and here, that isn’t such a problem. You can be who you are, and love who you choose. That is what I wanted for my family.” Mamani squeezed their hands before withdrawing. “Do not take that freedom for granted and you cannot fail.”
“You’re the best,” Omar said, his voice sounding strained. “I love you.”
Mamani smiled. “I love you too.”
Omar set down the camera. “I need pee,” he said before rushing away.
Anthony pretended not to see him wiping his eyes. Instead he looked across the table at Mamani while considering her words, which he didn’t think were complete coincidence. “Omar told you about me. Didn’t he?”
Mamani studied him a moment before shaking her head. “He didn’t need to. I once knew a boy like you, back in Iran. I was very fond of him. I cried when his parents forced him to marry a woman. I often wonder what became of that young man. Everyone should be allowed to find their own kind of love.” Her smile was gentle. “This is a better country. Happiness awaits you here. I know it.”
“Thanks,” Anthony said, wondering if he could use the same excuse as Omar. When he sniffed, Mamani reached for the box of tissues, tucking one in her sleeve as if needing it for later. When really she had probably moved them closer for him.
Anthony was still thinking of her later, when he was walking home. He tried to imagine waiting four years for Cameron to send for him, and then leaving behind the entire world he knew, just to roll the dice and see if they’d end up happier. Mamani was incredibly brave. And when he reached his house and went inside, he decided that he could be too.
The house smelled liked his mother’s barbequed brisket. He followed the aroma to the kitchen while second-guessing his decision to be vegetarian. His father liked her cooking just as much, judging from the way his hand was slapped as he tried to sneak a piece from under Dawn’s nose.
“Hey, hon!” his mother said when noticing him standing there. “Dinner is almost ready. I made a little using tofu, and frankly, it turned out terrible, but I hope you like it anyway.”
“I’m sure I will,” he assured her.
“Or you could eat real meat like a true red-blooded American,” Joe said while shaking his head.
“Hey, I’m feeling extremely patriotic at the moment,” Anthony countered. “Get me one of those little flags on a stick and I’ll wave it while marching down the street.”
“I think I have one in my truck,” Joe said, walking toward the door until his wife grabbed him by the arm.
