Women Without Men Read Free Page A

so she went downstairs wearing the chador. Nana Jan made no more comments; it had been a while since she’d stopped bossing people around.
    Fa’iza stepped outside into the side street. The noise
of the demonstration in the distance was clearly audible. A taxicab arrived almost immediately.
    â€œSezavar Street,” she said as she got in.
    The driver looked at her in the rearview mirror.
    â€œAren’t you scared?” he asked. “It is chaotic out there.”
    â€œI have no choice.”
    â€œI have to take detours, you know,” the driver said. “Main streets are dangerous.”
    â€œNo problem,” Fa’iza answered.
    Through a maze of back streets and alleys the driver negotiated his way until he had to stop at a minor traffic jam at an intersection. In the middle of the intersection a man appeared to be directing traffic. But all of a sudden he left the spot and ran down the sidewalk into an alley, chased by another man. The traffic began to move slowly. Suddenly a man hurled himself onto the back of Fa’iza’s cab and started knocking on the rear window with a knife. Fa’iza turned her head and buried her face in her lap. The driver jammed on the brakes, making her lurch forward and hit her head against the front seat. He then accelerated, which threw Fa’iza violently against the back seat. The maneuver made the man slip off the trunk of the car.
    â€œI told you it would be dangerous,” said the driver. “You’re my last fare for sure.” Fa’iza made no response.
    â€œGoddamn!” exclaimed the driver, “Serves me right for being nosy! My old lady told me ten times not to get on the road today.”
    Fa’iza remained silent. She didn’t like the way the driver looked at her in the rearview mirror. She was anxious to get out.

    Finally they arrived at the destination. She put a two-toman bill in the driver’s outstretched hand, shuddering at the touch of his skin. Not waiting for the change, she burst out of the cab.
    The house overlooked the street, which was humming with the noise of the crowds at some distance. Fa’iza rang the doorbell. She had a bitter taste in her mouth for the two minutes before the door was opened. The maid, Alia, opened the door, looking groggy.
    â€œYou were still asleep?” said Fa’iza accusingly. “My God!”
    Alia muttered something by way of greeting and stepped aside to let Fa’iza in.
    â€œIs Madam Munis home?” Fa’iza asked.
    â€œYes.”
    â€œWhere?”
    â€œIn the living room, I suppose.”
    Fa’iza started in that direction. Would Amir Khan be there, she wondered. As she took the first step, she told herself “There,” and with the second step, “Not there.” She alternated the thoughts at each step until she reached the living room door, coinciding with “There.” Apprehensively she pushed open the door. Munis was by herself sitting in front of the radio listening intently. Amir Khan was not there. He might be asleep upstairs, she guessed.
    â€œHello!” Fa’iza exclaimed.
    Munis turned, her face suddenly flushed with pleasure at the sight of Fa’iza. “What a surprise,” she squealed. “Long time no see! Where have you been hiding yourself,
young lady?” Slowly she rose to her feet, turning down the volume on the radio.
    â€œLong-time-no-see to you, my dear,” returned Fa’iza. “No word, no message, for God’s sake.” The women embraced and continued the stream of pleasantries as they settled on a couch next to the radio.
    â€œAre you alone?” Fa’iza wanted to know.
    â€œYes, I am,” declared Munis. “Mother and the others have gone on a pilgrimage to Mashad.” 1
    â€œWhy didn’t you let me know?” Fa’iza asked, complainingly.
    â€œThey’ve been gone two days.”
    â€œI see. What is Amir Khan