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Subject: {Kellis} "Hidden Journal: Estri's Escape" (MFg) [2/4]
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Hidden Journal: Estri's Escape [2 of 4]
NOTICE: The following file is one of an ongoing series, transcriptions
of files decrypted from the hidden journal of Harrison Everett Stone.
For a summary of their provenance see the initial file, D910412.ZEN,
included in the release, "Hidden Journal: First Files."
--Kellis. Copyright 1999
File D9104181.ZEN
<Friday, October 13, 1972>
Friday, the thirteenth: very unlucky, right? Well, not for me and
Estri. To my surprise I even got laid!
I sat in the populous hotel lobby, reading a four-day old New York
Times. Ten o'clock, the appointed time, passed with no sign of Estri, but
I refused to worry even at ten fifteen. And well I didn't. Five minutes
later I heard a squeal, followed by the thump of running feet, and lowered
my paper just in time to intercept a small airborne body. It landed on me
with a breath-threatening thud that nearly knocked the couch over.
Sweater-covered arms went around my neck while hot breaths and soft kisses
landed all over my face.
She smelled of wool and leather but tasted of girl. My Estri! I
repeated her name as she repeated mine. I gathered her into my arms,
despite the spectacle we were creating. I'd planned to greet her in the
reserved manner appropriate to uncle and niece. I should've known better.
When she raised her head at last, both sets of eyes were tearful. I
dashed mine clear and rose to my feet, meaning to thank whoever had
conveyed her. She came up with me, arms and legs wrapping my shoulders
and hips.
I looked around. Several people were watching us with expressions
varying from frowns to smiles. Most looked away when my gaze touched
them. I saw no one approaching, no one who seemed particularly interested
in Estri.
I took her by the waist and pulled her gently but firmly away from me.
"Get down, Estri," I commanded. "We must be dignified."
"Dignified?" she repeated. But she lowered her legs to stand beside
me. She was dressed in a blue sweater, a darker blue short skirt, blue
socks and white shoes with the oxford saddle in black. Her long hair was
coiled and pinned atop her head. God, she was beautiful!
"What means 'dignified?'"
I frowned fiercely. "Very serious." Then I smiled.
She cocked her head inquisitively. "Pain in gut?"
"Close. Where's the man who brought you?"
She looked towards the door. "Left me on step."
"He -- he what?"
"Constance say -- said, 'Come to door and wave if find you.' May I,
Hah-ree?"
"We'll both go."
"No, please, Hah-ree. Constance not want Elsik-man see you."
"All right. She always has good reasons."
I looked in vain for Estri's luggage as she preceded me to the door.
She went out on the steps. Through the glass I saw her wave to someone in
the distance, then a large black car pulled out of line and accelerated
down the street. She turned and came back inside.
I took her hand. "You have no bag?"
She smiled with pleasure. "Constance said you ask that!"
"But do you?"
"No, Hah-ree. Only me."
"We'll fix that. Have you had breakfast?"
"Break -- Oh. No. Come straight from train."
"Then let's go to the snack bar."
She pressed against me, hugging my waist. "Oh, Hah-ree. I so want --
<wanted> to see you. I love you forever."
Constance had proved right again: Estri's original is a lot more
charming. So I cribbed it. "I love you, too, all years that come."
Her eyes showed surprise then a twinkle. "Means 'forever.'"
"Yes, but it was <your> forever! Come on, let's put some food into
you."
Her eyelashes batted at me. "Only food?"
Uh-oh! Clearly she was not about to forget her Meshir background any
time soon.
The snack bar was pretty crowded for ten thirty in the morning. We
found a small table next to a woman eating alone. Estri insisted on
taking the chair beside mine instead of the one across the table. She
immediately rubbed my knee with hers, looking at me with an expression
that I'm tempted to call blissful. But a practical issue had occurred to
me.
"Estri, your English is much better. Constance has taught you well."
"Thank you, Hah-ree. Drill, drill, drill! Means do again and again.
Also means make hole. I think make hole here." She pointed to the side
of her head, smiling brightly.
I smiled in return. "But did she teach you about food?"
She frowned. "Food?"
"The names of food items."
"She said food be -- <will> be very strange."
"You do know about eggs, don't you?"
"Yes, Hah-ree. From birds. Good to eat."
"Good! We'll try you with scrambled eggs, bacon and toast. Well,
maybe not bacon. Sausage."
Bacon was on the menu, but in a Moslem country swine are forbidden.
The price of the bacon suggested that the Horton had it flown in like
winter strawberries.
I thought Estri watched and listened carefully as I announced our
selections to the waiter, but when he left I discovered she'd seen more
than that. She said, "People not touch."
"He was a stranger," I explained.
Her eyes swept around the crowded room. "No people touch."
"Not often," I agreed, understanding her at last. "Not where they can
be seen."
She nodded. "Constance said this. The way of you people -- my people
now."
"I'm glad Constance told you."
She smiled and touched her head. "Much put in hole." She cocked an
eyebrow at me. "It is why I not yet kiss you penis. Constance said not
touch in <public>. Is it right?"
I almost choked. "Very right, Estri."
"This is public?"
"Yes. 'In public' means strange people around us. We are in public."
Her gaze was thoughtful. "Touch not dignified?"
She had surmised her own definition for it. "That depends." I
explained about greeting friends and relatives in public.
She frowned. "I love touch you, Hah-ree, and you touch me." Her knee
rubbed mine again.
"We have a room of our own in this hotel. When we finish shopping
we'll go there and touch, if you wish."
"Oh, I wish!" Her expression changed. "<Shopping>?"
"Where did you get your clothing?"
"Constance make."
"What?"
"From blankets. Is it good?"
No one was watching us. I slipped my hand momentarily under the
sweater and contacted warm girl. She grinned. "Touch anyway, Hah-ree?"
I leaned towards her on my elbow, accusing softly, "You have no
underwear!"
"Underwear? Oh, like you shorts? Constance said you get for me."
"Constance didn't make your shoes."
"Elsik-man give to me."
"Estri, you came across half of Iran in this one set of clothing?"
She smiled. "And big Russian coat that Constance make short." Her
brow wrinkled. "Why is world so cold, Hah-ree?"
"Outside the Meshir caves the cold time of year is beginning. Half
the year is cold and half is hot."
She nodded. "Constance said also. But <why>, Hah-ree?"
"Remember your question. I'll explain that and a lot more in the
coming days. Where's the coat?"
"Constance keep. She said coat embuh -- embarrass you."
"Did she!"
But the waiter arrived with Estri's breakfast and a pastry for me. I
told her what to do with the napkin and how to hold her fork. The knife
and spoon were familiar but not the Western habit of holding the spoon
like a pencil. She attacked the eggs and beef sausage hungrily, though
her eyes rounded childishly as the pepper in the sausage affected her
taste buds. I watched her eat, immensely pleased to see her before me. I
imagined a bare bottom in contact with the padded chair, wondering how
much of it her exuberant greeting had exposed in the lobby. Had the
frowns and smiles been excessive? Probably not, I decided. So far no
house dick or Iranian policeman had appeared to ask questions.
She paused, eyebrows rising as she swallowed a mouthful. "Oh! I
forget, Hah-ree."
"What?"
She laid down her fork, pulled open the neck of her sweater and fished
something out of it: a folded sheet of paper. "Constance make ... What
is word for holder of you knife?"
"Uh, scabbard."
She frowned. "Scabbard?"
"Do you mean <pocket>?"
She smiled. "Yes, pocket. Constance make in front of shirt to hold
writing for you."
She handed it to me and immediately resumed eating while I unfolded it
eagerly. The handwriting was small with European spiked Rs but perfectly
legible.
10 October 1972
My Dear Harry,
I am again a woman married, with Moreti and Estri as witnesses. Both
my weddings have been much like yours to Estri. In a Meshir marriage it
is the husband who determines occurrence and duration. His word is
all-important. Though my new husband is ostensibly Moslem, he is pleased
to adhere to the Meshir practise in this case. Western women have no idea
of their good fortune. Is it only technology that has enhanced their
worth?
I have spent most of my time with Estri emphasising the difference
between Western and Meshir culture. Such effort truly requires a
lifetime, but hopefully I have imparted at least an idea of public
comportment. I have striven also to adjust her expectation of your
personal attention. Western ideas of a female "age of consent" to that
most fundamental of human relations are unintelligible to her, as they are
to me, but she is aware of your ambivalence on it and your society's
absolutism about it (possibly an unintended consequence of greater female
worth?). I have suggested that she will be less disappointed if she
delays her determined assault upon you until her breasts have developed.
Estri is sworn to secrecy about all things Meshir. Disclosure to you
is the only permitted exception. Of course her education in Meshir
history and policy is far from complete.
Please write to me at the following address: Elsik Ventures Indirect
/ Kehren / Ulem Ostanha / Iran. I am the "Indirect." Though no one else
reads English at present, that condition will not last. Please tell me
all about Estri's development, but I must ask you never to mention what
you and I may have been to each other. My husband, despite his Meshir
youth and knowledge of us, has adopted the Moslem attitude toward women as
property. I must never again converse personally with another man. Such
possessiveness is so clearly childish. I am with difficulty learning to
consider it flattering.
Of greater importance is your willingness to improve the lot of
Meshir. I hope it endures. Moreti is very interested in your plan to
publish our literature using the Roman alphabet. If you could advise me
of a publisher I should be obliged.
Oh, Harry! When Rejik told us that an American was resting in the
high chamber, I hastened to him, if only to hear English spoken
competently after so long. Then after Moreti left us alone you took me
exactly as my Edward formerly did, so that I had no choice but to hold you
close against my heart. You were cool water to one dying in the desert.
You refreshed an ambition that had faded in the mind-numbing sameness of
Meshir existence.
Your generosity to me and Meshir has exceeded even that of the chief
who spared us from the sword. In the end he only left us what we already
had! Thank you, Harry. We of the Meshir shall always remember you with
gratitude.
I know that you are concerned. The locals returned Melki's body to
us. We have delivered it to Ahriman in the manner appropriate to a wife
of a Meshir hero.
I was once an Estri, too, but no longer. I know only too well the
reality behind all sentiment, perhaps better than you do. Estri's charm
was perceptible in the relatively barren setting of Meshir. As it fades
in comparison to the sophisticated girls of your homeland, remember this:
she is wholly yours as they will never be. If you exercise forethought
with her, you can make of her your heart's desire. You may then even come
to love her so completely as she loves you, as my Edward came to love me,
Your badly misnamed,
Constance
I read it again, then once more. Estri's hand fell gently upon mine.
"She love you, too, Hah-ree."
I looked up into her earnest gaze. "She loves both of us."
"I know. She said we never meet again."
"Only through our letters."
"Letters?"
I raised the paper slightly. "Like this. You'll write her, too, when
you learn."
"I hope soon."
"It will be soon. How'd you like the scrambled eggs?"
"I like." She smiled at me and drank down the rest of the apple juice
I'd ordered for her, fearing that commercial orange juice might be too
tart. She had barely tasted the milk. But eggs, sausage and toast had
vanished completely. She held up an empty packet of jelly. "What is it?"
"Grape jelly."
She repeated the words, adding, "I like very much."
I already knew her teeth exhibited no cavity. Obviously her intake of
refined sugar had been limited. What a shock her system would soon
experience! But getting her to a dentist would be a trivial problem once
getting her into the U.S. was solved.
"Wipe your mouth," I told her, slipping Constance's letter into my
coat, "and we'll be ready to go shopping. Hmm. I need some help with
that."
From the corner of my eye I had noticed the woman at the adjacent
table smile on Estri once or twice. She was typical Iranian, slim and
thirtyish, wearing a Western woman's suit over a ruffled blouse. She had
been lingering over a single cup of coffee, having rebuffed the waiter
twice, probably waiting for someone. I leaned closer to her and said,
"Pardon me, ma'am. Do you speak English?"
She glanced at me. "Yes."
"Do you know Tehran well?"
She looked beyond me toward the door, then back. Her eyes were wary.
"Why do you ask?"
"My ... niece's baggage has been lost. Could you direct me to a store
where I can buy her a couple of outfits?"
She scrutinized Estri, who returned her stare blandly. "Your niece?"
"My sister's daughter. Her father is Iranian."
Estri's turned a twinkling gaze on me. She opened her mouth to
comment but closed it silently.
The woman said, "You're American?"
"Yes. Both of us."
"Then talking to me may not harm you."
"Talking to you?"
"The Savak are watching me."
"The Savak? What's that?"
"The shah's secret police."
I studied her. At first her eyes dropped. She wore no lipstick or
eye shadow but her complexion seemed smoother than Constance's, for
example, so was either made up or significantly younger. It was an
attractive face, full-lipped, heart-shaped with a sharp chin, somewhat
resembling an older version of Estri.
Glittering eyes rose again to mine. "I am a suspected religious
subversive."
"What religion?"
"Islam."
I had to chuckle. "Dressed like that?"
"It <is> ridiculous, isn't it! It's only because of my dear friend.
They arrested him last week."
"I'm sorry."
She studied me in turn. "You're polite. Thank you."
I shook my head. "Thought this was a Moslem country."
"It is, of course."
"Then why are they arresting Moslems?"
"The ayatollahs and the shah disagree on too many things. The radical
clerics want to replace him."
"Local politics," I judged. One thing for sure: I didn't want to get
mixed up in that!
"To you, yes."
"Then you do know Tehran well."
"Yes, I do. It has few places that sell clothing for Western
children, particularly girls. The shah is trying to promote tourism, but
religion has held Iran back so long ..."
I grinned. "If the Savak ask, I'll tell them you're definitely not a
religious subversive. May I say that your English is remarkable? We
could be sitting in the New York Horton so far as I could tell from your
accent."
"I've been there. I grew up in the District of Columbia. My father
was an Iranian attache before they recalled and arrested <him>. My
English is why I'm sitting here. I'm waiting to see if the manager will
hire me."
"Well, good luck to you! Can you name a clothing store?"
She grinned at me speculatively. "Do you have a daughter?"
"Well ... no."
"Then you don't want to supervise buying girl's clothing."
"Well, I ... have no choice. My sister's in the states."
She took a breath. "My name is Anelda. You are Mister ...?"
"Stone, Harry Stone. This is my niece, Estri."
To my surprise Estri bowed her head slightly and intoned in the
British way, "How d'you do?"
The woman smiled. "Very well, Estri; thank you. Mr. Stone, why
don't I help you outfit your niece?"
"What? Surely that would be an imposition! Aren't you waiting to
hear from the hotel?"
She shrugged. "I've been sitting here three hours. They've already
got my answer -- from the Savak."
It struck me that I ought to return the same answer for the same
reason. Official scrutiny was not something I ever courted, much less now
with Estri exposed and me about to break several laws. But this was an
attractive woman, apparently a victim of fate, and I did need the help.
What marvelous help she might be! I had reluctantly contemplated taking
directions from the hotel staff, then arguing ineptly with sales clerks,
at which my Farsi-less "niece" would be little help. Still, in retrospect
I can't believe I accepted.
"Okay, great!" I said. "But we need to go immediately."
She retrieved her purse from the floor and stood up. "Then let's go."
I paid both bills. Anelda went to powder her nose, or so she said. I
paused, entering the lobby, but saw no one exhibiting an unusual interest.
Bending to Estri, I asked, "Did Constance tell you about Western
bathrooms?"
She grinned. "Where people not take bath?"
"Where you go to ... well, to --"
"Make water and waste?"
"She did tell you!" I pointed. "That is where you go. Inside are
little stalls. The stools are in the stalls."
"You show me?"
"Huh? I can't go in with you."
Her eyebrows rose. "Why not?"
I sighed. "Guess she didn't have time to tell you everything. In
public places men and women always have different bathrooms."
"Why, Hah-ree?"
I chuckled. "I don't really know. Tradition."
"What is tradition?"
"The way things were always done. I understand the Meshir, too, have
many traditions."
"Ah. <Tradition>."
"Do you need to go?"
"Yes." She took two steps toward the door marked with the stylized
skirt before spinning about and hurrying back. Her face showed anxiety.
"You wait for me, Hah-ree?"
"Estri, I'll <always> wait for you!"
The anxiety transformed instantly into a beatific smile. She turned
confidently and disappeared. Because she might be quicker, I feared to
enter the male facilities concurrently. But I didn't have long to wait
before the ladies' popped open and she skipped out.
"Did you use the paper?"
"Paper?" she asked blankly.
Oh, well, at her age piss hardly stinks. Hopefully we'd reach our
room and a personal demonstration before she needed to go again. She
agreed to wait for me. While relieving myself, I discovered a rising
anxiety of my own at our separation and returned without bothering to wash
my hands. She was leaning against the wall. Her eyes lit at sight of me.
She stood straight and smiled briefly before taking my hand.
"Hah-ree, I not like public."
I nodded. "I admit that I don't either. But we have to put up with
it a lot more."
"Put up?"
"Do you understand 'endure?'"
She nodded. "Endure until when?"
"Until we get home."
"Home. You home?"
"And yours."
"Home!" She seemed to be tasting the word.
Anelda appeared. Apparently she had told the literal truth: her nose
was paler. She smiled at us but her eyes glittered. "Shall we go?" she
asked.
"This way," I said, holding Estri's hand and leading them out to the
taxi marquee. I gestured to the lead driver, who obligingly held a rear
door for us. To Anelda I said, "You give the directions. I just pay."
She winked. "A good arrangement."
Soon we had boarded and whirled away toward the Tehran bazaar. The
car was a large Ford station wagon, about a seventy model, evidence that
oil money was flowing. I sat in the middle seat between the two females.
Anelda leaned close to me and said quietly above the automotive
noises, "The Savak stopped me in the hall."
"Did they!"
"They wanted to know who you are. I am to report whatever you do when
we return."
I hope my expression didn't change. "What did you tell them?"
"Your name and your niece's, that we were going to replace her
clothing. I'm sorry, Mr. Stone. I couldn't help it. They scare me to
death."
I patted her knee. "I understand. Don't worry about it -- unless
buying Western clothes is illegal."
"Thank you. No, it's not, not yet. If the ayatollahs win, it will be
-- for girls, at least."
"I wouldn't worry about that, either. A resurgent religion bucks the
tide of modern history."
"Maybe, but it has a good chance here, Mr. Stone."
"Call me 'Harry.'"
She smiled at me. "Okay, Harry."
What an idiot you are! I thought fiercely to myself. So you've
attracted official attention. It wouldn't take much investigation to
expose the niece fiction. Is it against the shah's law to take a minor
Iranian female out of the country, even if no relative protests? Would
they turn me in to American immigration if they discovered my plan? I
guessed I was due to find out.
Nevertheless I was very glad for Anelda's assistance. We visited
three holes in the wall and one tent before Estri was equipped with two
each of real sweaters, dresses, slips, panties, long stockings that are
actually tights, more socks and a pair of patent black pumps that made her
eyes widen and her lips pucker in several kisses for me. She insisted on
wearing them instead of the oxfords.
I had expected a tense moment when the two females emerged from the
first dressing room. Anelda glared at me. "Where is her underwear,
Harry?"
"Missing, is it?" I forced a lugubrious expression. "I'm not
surprised. That's a gift from her Iranian relatives."
"Oh!" She looked thoughtful. "I think I understand. Has she lived
here long?"
"The last five years."
She nodded. "That explains a lot."
We bought toothbrush, comb, hairbrush, hair elastics and a set of
small barrettes. Finally we bought her a woolen overcoat, a size too big,
but it should certainly keep her warm.
In one store we came across a display of silvery goose eggs. I looked
again and recognized it as the American package for panty hose. Anelda
exclaimed over them, pointing, "Size B! Just my size!" So naturally I
took up four and passed them along to the sales clerk. When Anelda
protested half-heartedly, I told her she had certainly earned them. Estri
admired them, too, so I bought her one in Size A on Anelda's advice. But
what Estri wanted was the egg.
Anelda pointed out suitcases but I demurred. Estri's small items
would fit in my own luggage.
Between the crestfallen expressions, displayed when shop proprietors
discovered my woman's command of their language, and Estri's obvious joy,
it was actually fun. Fairly expensive, too, but not nearly so much, I
expect, as it would have been without Anelda. I had made the taxi follow
us around. In it on the way back to the hotel I told her as much. "I'm
sure you saved me a bundle."
"Yes, I did, more than you realize. They would've halved your
exchange rate, too."
"How can I ever thank you?"
"Buy me lunch?"
"With pleasure. I was going to ask you anyway."
But first we had to stash the new clothing and give Estri a summary
education in that and other things. I paused in the lobby, bags over one
arm, Estri hanging on the other, and said to Anelda, "Will you wait here
or in the restaurant? I'd invite you up but don't want to embarrass you."
She regarded me sideways with a quizzical smile. "Embarrass me? I
can't imagine how!"
Can't you indeed! I didn't quite say. In fact I meant to avoid
embarrassing myself and Estri. Could five years in the Iranian back
country account for an American child's ignorance? Why not, on the theory
she was only six when she came here?
"Then follow us. You can help me get her dressed."
"That's a good idea," she agreed. I ignored the twinkle in her eyes.
"Embarrass?" asked Estri in the automatic elevator.
"That's right. You remember that word, don't you." I looked at
Anelda. "In the West it sometimes embarrasses a woman to be asked to a
man's room."
"Oh, no," Anelda chuckled, eyes flashing. "Never the woman, though it
may embarrass the man."
Touche! "If the woman misunderstands," I countered.
Estri snorted, looking from one to the other. But she was smiling.
"Is it game?"
Anelda murmured, "The oldest game of all."
Her eyes on mine were level. I asked, "Where did you study it?"
Her lip curled. "Girls are born knowing how to play it. Ask Estri."
"I believe you. But you must've gone to school in the states."
"I went to Georgetown."
"Of course."
"But I didn't graduate."
"Your father's departure?"
"No. An irresistible boy friend."
At that interesting moment the elevator's upward motion ceased,
causing Estri to gulp as her eyes widened. When the doors opened, we
proceeded silently to my room, the one with the two double beds and the
cot. Anelda looked around as I dropped the bags on a bed.
"Who's with you?" she wondered.
"No one." I pointed to the other bed. "That's because I wasn't sure
who would come with Estri."
"No one did?"
"They dropped her on the hotel steps."
She nodded. "I understand perfectly. Too sanctimonious to meet with
you."
"Something like that."
Estri inquired, "Sanctimonious?"
"I'll define it later, my dear. As a matter of fact, Anelda, they
brought her here without breakfast, which is why I took her immediately
into the snack bar."
"I surmised that from your conversation. And they must have brought
her without a bath. She needs one."
I shrugged. "She's been on the train. But shouldn't that wait till
after lunch?"
Anelda asked, "Are you hungry, Estri?"
"No." The child's head snapped to me. "Unless Hah-ree say."
The woman grinned sourly at me. "They've nearly made a full Iranian
of her."
I grinned back. "Is deferring to me so bad?"
She lost her grin. "I'd be pleased to help her with the bath, Harry."
To my momentary surprise something in me understood that offer as a
threat. Apparently I had planned to bathe her myself. Ah, well, there
would hopefully be many other baths. I straightened my shoulders. "Would
you, please? And another thing: I gather she's been so long removed from
a Western toilet ... Would you be kind enough to explain toilet paper to
her?"
She smiled engagingly. "Of course."
This was the opportunity I needed for another task that Anelda's
presence had complicated -- if I dared to trust Anelda. I decided to risk
it. She could be playing some deep game, could even be a Savak agent
herself, but to what end?
"First I need to take her picture."
The woman's eyebrows shot up. "Her picture?"
I got out my Polaroid. I almost asked for one of the new dresses but
realized in time that it would hardly do for Estri to pass through customs
wearing clothing that matched a photograph presumably taken years earlier.
Anelda studied the child. "How do you want her hair?"
"Hmm... Pulled back in a pony tail."
"That will make her look younger."
"Good."
When her hair had been restrained, Estri had to go spy herself in the
bathroom mirror. She returned with a disgruntled look. Are females ever
pleased with their hairdos? But she stood docilely against the wall and
stared into the camera. The flash made her blink. She endured two shots.
I liked them both. She looked to be a solemn and very young girl in an
oversized sweater.
She studied the results when I laid them on the desk to dry. Her eyes
flashed up to me in fascination. "How this done, Hah-ree?"
"It's complicated, my dear. Remember that question, too."
"I remember."
"I've got to go out for about half an hour. Anelda will give you a
bath and teach you how to use a bathroom. I want you to learn what she
shows you. You'll need it on our trip. But this is most important: I
want you to stay right here until I get back. Will you do it?"
Her lips parted. "Can I go, too?"
I shook my head. "No, dear, not this time. Soon as I get back we'll
all go to lunch."
Her eyes fell. Something about her expression stabbed me. I snatched
her up in my arms. "Estri, I <have> to go!"
She hugged me and kissed my lips with the merest touch of warm
moisture. I could feel her body trembling. "Yes, Hah-ree," she sighed.
When I put her down, she looked up with huge eyes. "Please come back.
Please, Hah-ree?"
"I will certainly come back to you, Estri."
Anelda was watching our little display thoughtfully. I asked her,
"Can you manage for half an hour?"
"Of course. Do you have a robe I could borrow?"
"Don't use them when traveling." I pointed to the clothes rack. "How
about my raincoat?"
"I might get it wet."
"That's the fate of a raincoat."
Aware of the Savak, I traded my sport coat for a suit coat and
descended by fire stairs instead of elevator. Fortunately Mr. Vardish's
watch repair shop was only five minutes away in the taxi that I bid wait.
When I handed him the photographs, he studied them through his loupe.
I said, "I trust Polaroid is okay."
"Yes, okay."
"How's it coming?"
He took a dark blue rectangle from a desk drawer and passed it to me.
I flipped the pages. Heather's number was perforated into the top of
each. "My god, this looks perfect!"
"Is perfect," he announced smugly. "Is ninety-nine per-cent real."
"How do you mean?"
"Take real passport, fill number holes with paper mulch, match colors,
clean off old print and picture, punch new number."
I was afraid to ask where he got the real passport.
"Very interesting. Sounds tedious."
"Yes. Why charge thousand dollar. Got rest of money?"
I passed him three hundred dollars. "The rest when I pick it up."
"Okay."
"Tomorrow afternoon at exactly one o'clock."
"Yes, okay."
"I want you to stand on the corner down there. I'll come in a taxi
and swap you the money for the passport."
"In envelope."
"Yes. Both in envelopes."
He studied me. "Two hundred more."
I shook my head. "No more money. It's not even a hundred yards."
"Yards?"
"Meters. I mean it's not far to walk."
"If you cheat, American embassy get call."
"Fair enough. If the passport is incomplete, I tell the Savak."
His loupe fell. Slowly he pushed it up. "What if you late?"
"Wait five minutes."
He nodded slowly. "Okay."
"One more thing: I want you to put a five year-old Iranian stamp on
the first visa page. Just the one."
He frowned. "Don't know five year-old stamp pattern."
"Neither will American Customs. Invent one."
"Okay. Can do."
Back at the hotel no one seemed to take an untoward interest in me as
I passed again through the lobby. I noticed that the dining area was
still open for lunch.
I let myself into the room quietly. It seemed empty, but light
spilled from behind the bath alcove.
"I'm back!" I called.
"In here," Anelda responded immediately -- to my relief.
A chair scraped. Anelda began, "Let me put a towel on --" Before she
could finish a naked Estri dashed around the partition, moist hair
bouncing, came straight to me and leapt into my arms. She covered my
face with kisses. "Oh, Hah-ree, you come back!"
She smelled of soap and shampoo. "I'll always come back to you, my
sweet."
It made me wonder how they treated her on the train. Did Elsik
demand too much of Constance's attention? New husbands do that, I've
heard.
Anelda came around the partition leisurely, holding a hand towel.
Apparently she had chosen to wear a large bath towel instead of my
raincoat. Though thin, her arms and legs were shapely. She grinned at
our spectacle, commenting, "You're back early. Please excuse our
informality."
"Of course. When in Rome -- or Iran, in this case."
"What do you mean?"
"I'm told that nudity is common inside the Moslem family."
"Sometimes," she admitted. "I was just drying Estri's hair. Would
you like me to dress her?"
"Yes, but I'd better watch. Your services won't always be available."
To Estri I said, "Let Anelda help you dress, sweetness, then we'll go to
lunch."
But her hands cupped my cheeks and she kissed me one last time before
unwrapping her legs from my hips. "I love you forever, Hah-ree."
"And I love you."
She got down and turned to the woman, who paused long enough to
comment, "I'd like to have such a tender husband." She smiled. "Though
an uncle would do."
She took up a pair of pink panties and held them for the girl to step
into. I examined her comment for hidden depths and couldn't let it lie.
"What do you mean?"
She didn't look at me. "Estri doesn't think she's your niece."
"Doesn't she?"
"Even when I defined it for her as the daughter of your sister."
So she had pumped the kid. I'd thought about that likelihood in the
taxi. I suggested, "Under the circumstances a little confusion shouldn't
be surprising."
"It's not, but ..." She straightened up and looked at me. "She's
been told that she's your wife."
"Has she!"
She returned to buttoning the dress. "You don't seem too concerned,
but it may cause you problems, especially when you reach the states."
"Should I be concerned?"
"Well, so long as she remains virgin --"
"Of course she's virgin!" I declared, pretending indignation. "She's
only eleven."
"Huh! You'd have to look far to find another eleven year-old virgin
in this country."
No further than Meshir, I didn't say. "Then it's doubly good she's
leaving."
"Especially, considering that she doesn't speak Farsi."
"Doesn't she?"
"She won't. That made me curious, so I tried a few tricks on her. I
don't believe she understands it, either." Anelda stared at me over the
child's shoulder. "How could she spend five years here -- even five weeks
-- without learning a little Farsi?"
"There are many dialects." I'd heard that, hoped it was true.
"Ah, yes, of course. Her father was Baluchi, wasn't he? She's been
in Baluchistan -- in the Southeast."
I shrugged. "Maybe."
"But obviously she knows and loves you. From five years ago?"
"What did she tell you?"
The woman chuckled. "According to her, she's loved you forever."
"She's a loving child."
"Not child," the child insisted.
I smiled at her and corrected myself. "A loving sweetheart." Her
return smile became a grimace as the comb passed through her long hair.
When Anelda had attached barrettes to pull the wings away from her
face, Estri went to admire herself in the full length mirror on the
bathroom door. The woman regarded me with a slight smile. "I'm hungry.
May I consider myself temporarily a part of your family?"
"You don't have to be family for me to feed you."
"But I do to cast modesty to the winds." So saying she dumbfounded me
by unwinding her bath towel. For a second she stood upright and
completely naked before me, intent on folding the towel. Her skin was
olive, of course. Legs and underarms were shaven and pubes were trimmed
for a bikini. Her waist was narrow and her breasts, wide though shallow,
sported perky dark nipples. The bright bathroom light was falling on her
from the side, enough to reveal crinkling of the areolas that belied her
air of indifference. I noted a network of faint stretch marks ascending
her belly before she turned away to retrieve her clothing, laid out neatly
on the bed behind her.
She dressed very quickly, including new panty hose from one of the
eggs. I returned suit coat for sport coat while she took her purse into
the bath room. She emerged with the addition of scarlet lipstick.
I smiled at her. "I like red lips on a woman."
"Do you?" She smiled back.
"At both ends," I added -- a trial balloon. It floated on her
chuckle. I added, "You didn't use it in the restaurant."
She snorted. "At that time I had no Western escort. Do you have any
idea what Moslems think of lipstick in public?"
"I can imagine. Hungry, Estri?"
"Yes, Hah-ree. A little."
Anelda took a deep breath. "Can you give me five minutes, Harry?"
"Five minutes?"
"I have to report."
"I only meant to take you to the dining room."
"Oh." She started toward the door. "Then go ahead. I'll find your
table."
"What will you tell them?"
"What we've done."
"What Estri said?"
"No. She said very little."
"Do you mind letting them believe I watched you bathe her? Unless
they ask, of course."
"Harry, if they ask ..."
"I know. Don't get caught in a lie."
"Thank you, Harry." Suddenly she leaned toward me and kissed my cheek
before spinning on her high heel and passing out the door.
Estri looked up at me and laughed. "She mark you!"
She led me into the bathroom, wet a cloth, wiped my cheek solemnly and
declared, "I get red lips and mark you, too."
"You don't need to," I protested. "You have marked my heart."
"Hah-ree!" She smiled up at me on an intake of breath.
"Did Anelda ask you many questions?"
"Yes. When I said I am you wife, she get ... very surprise. So I not
answer more."
"You did well."
She thought a moment. "Hah-ree..."
"Go ahead, dear."
"I say I am you niece, if you want."
She looked at me intently, her eyes scanning mine in an obvious effort
to discern my true desire. To accede to that fiction suddenly seemed like
betrayal. I reminded myself that this woman-child had very literally
risked her life to restore my freedom. She came within half an ounce on a
Russian trigger of losing it. "My darling Estri, you must always say what
you believe."
"I am wife."
"You are wife. My wife."
"But that make problem, is it right?"
"It might. But I'll never deny you."
"What means 'darling?'"
"It means the one I love most."
"Oh. <Darling>. I never want you have problem, darling Hah-ree."
Her eyes lit. "I be niece till you say no more problem. Okay?"
I had to sigh. "You are very wise, my darling."
She smiled happily. "Now we eat?"
--
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