MiSuze It Burns

By Jodi Carboni

After four years of living in Iran, Julia's sweet, handsome husband, Masoud, has turned into a raging alcoholic addicted to pain killers. A divorce is imminent, yet complications arise.

Julia finds herself falling in love with another man, Hossein, her husband's boss. She comes to understan

• Language: English
• Publisher: JODI ANWAY CARBONI
• Release date: Jan 1, 2024
• ISBN: 9798987717455

Book preview

Introduction

Dear Reader,

This story is an international romantic period drama. I want to take you on an adventure to Iran, a country where many have not had the opportunity to visit in the last forty years. Still, between 1950 through 1979, over 800,000 Americans visited or lived there, and tourism is again beginning to thrive. Many would be surprised at the modernity of Iran mixed with the ancient history. The internet provides many resources to see and get to know this land and people, not by what we hear on the news, but by what’s happening there every day.

Although there are real aspects to this book related to culture, cuisine, places, et cetera, this story is completely fictional – a fantasy. It’s written about fictitious characters and their relationships. There are no political or religious agendas. The story is not meant to berate or belittle anyone’s country, culture, or beliefs, nor is it meant to overshadow the serious issues that real people are experiencing.

This book has occasional Persian/Farsi words in it which are transliterated (written with English letters, not Persian script) then translated into English immediately following. I don’t indicate each instance where characters are speaking in English or Farsi, as that would become burdensome on the reader.

There are two particularly difficult translations which aren’t easy because they’re used in different ways for different situations. The first is the word Befarmaa-eed. This expression is used often. I translated it initially to its meaning of I bid you to.. and the bidding is sometimes inferred. Such as I bid you to sit, or I bid you to enter. In these cases it can also be used as welcome or please, but there are other words for these. I’m going to use it as the meaning it represents, rather than literal. It is typically a polite offering of something.

The second is Ghorbunet behram. This is a tricky one. It literally means "I go as your sacrifice". Many would say it means I love you, but I have seen it used to the grocer, the neighbor, the child, the stranger, and sarcastically to an event attendant instructing a driver where to park. It doesn’t mean I love you in the sense as carnal love, although it’s literal meaning is quite intense. So, I am choosing to use it as I appreciate you. I think this is a more accurate translation of its general use. To appreciate is to be grateful or thankful for something or to someone and also to value or regard highly. I believe it’s suitable.

If you’d like to read the transliterated words more correctly, see the pronunciation guide. If you don’t prefer to read the transliteration, skip straight to the English. Either way you choose, I hope you enjoy it.

Jodi Carboni

Notes and Conventions for Persian Language

Referring only to Persian words:

a – as in apple, cat

aa – as in spa, all (Maman, Baba have the same sound but spelled traditionally.)

e – as in egg

i, ee – as in need

o – as in toe, slow

u, oo, ou – as in boo, too

kh – soft k as in Bach, Scottish loch

gh – hard guttural g (g at the back of your throat)

q – soft guttural k (k at the back of your throat)

zh – si sound in vision and Persian or su sound in pleasure

Chapter 1 Mehmaani ~ Party

It’s not that any one of us is all good or all bad, nor any society all good or all bad. We’re a mixture of qualities; positive, negative, and in between. What we see in ourselves and what others see in us, are surely different perspectives – indeed.

Tehran, Iran

August 1994 - Mordad 1373

Julia Caldwell Hakimi sat in the back seat of a shared taxi. It was a scorching summer day. The all-encompassing heat of the late afternoon paid testament to the sun’s pursuit. Its intent, in her estimation, was to sap moisture and strength from every living thing.

The taxi sat motionless surrounded by misaligned vehicles, jammed together like an unsolvable logic puzzle. Random horns blared as drivers’ frustrations reached their boiling point. The windows were down in the orange and white Peykaan sedan where Julia was nestled. There was a warm desert breeze adding little relief to the heat generated by the seven passengers within.

She was squeezed between the right-side door and a woman sitting in the middle with a young boy on her lap. He appeared to be four years old and squirmed uncomfortably from the tight space, torrid condition, and boney seat of his mother’s legs.

Hunger didn’t appear to be an issue, as he held a Biskwit (tea biscuit) in his hand which he occasionally nibbled on, but mostly he spewed the crumbs in all directions as his arms flailed through the air in random fits of protest regarding his discomfort.

A man sat on the woman’s left side compacting her, and her charge, firmly in the middle. To all outward appearances, he was the child’s father and woman’s husband, though taxis were a dimension of their own.

In this Islamic country of gender segregation, a man and woman who were total strangers, commonly found themselves seated together pressed firmly up against each other. A circumstance where nothing but their perspiration-soaked clothing separates the pulsation of their hearts.

The front seat consisted of the driver, who was focused on finding any space he might maneuver his machine forward, in hopes of breaking free from the blockade of haphazardly aligned cars which imprisoned him. Mostly he was moving the stick shift back and forth between first gear and neutral with impatient gestures as if this act might somehow cause the flow of traffic to restart. Numerous attempts had proven this to be ineffective, yet he persisted.

In the front passenger seat were two girls. They appeared to be sisters about seven and twelve years old. The older girl wore a light overcoat and pink scarf tied neatly under her chin. The younger girl wore a dress and no scarf. She sat in front of the older girl on the seat and lay quietly against her older sibling with her head resting against her shoulder. Her sister’s arms encircled her in safety. There were no seatbelts in the car to be found, but this wasn’t unusual.

When Julia had first entered the taxi, there was a man in the front passenger seat, and no one was in the back where she had taken her place. The other passenger was soon let off, and it was only her remaining within. They made their way through the streets while people hoping for a ride yelled out their destination. Frequently the driver slowed to listen. When the destination was not a match, he responded negatively with the customary sharp toss of his head slightly back and a tch of the tongue.

The family she currently shared seating with had called out Meidan-e Azadi – Freedom Square, and the driver pulled over to allow them to climb in. Julia had opened the door, climbing out to let them in so she could stay seated on the right side, as she would need to get out before them. Based on their requested stop, they wouldn’t have to take on passengers again until after she disembarked. Now the constant slowing and starting was complete if the traffic jam ever started to move again.

Julia took a slow deep breath, trying not to take up more space by doing so. She closed her eyes as she exhaled and rested her head back against the seat. She shouldn’t even be in a taxi. Her husband Masoud was going to drive her to the event.

This evening she was obliged to attend the Sofreh-ye Nazr given by her mother-in-law. These women’s gatherings were of old tradition. Her mother-in-law had made a vow with God, or with one of the descendants of the prophet Mohammad. The bequest had been granted, and now she was giving a dinner in the honor of her intercessor. Masoud’s mother’s wish had come true, hoping her younger daughter would become pregnant, and now with this dinner, prayers, and a charitable gift to the needy, her vow would be fulfilled.

She had been to several of these events in the last few years and enjoyed them. It was unclear to her, though, why her mother-in-law invited her at all. She didn’t get along with her husband’s family. Frankly, they didn’t like her, as she wasn’t who they had wanted for their son. Their choice for his wife would have been his cousin Zari. This was her first sin.

Next, she had never had children. This was surely a disgrace, and it would have been the right thing in their mind, she believed, if she would step aside and let Masoud marry a woman who could fulfill this duty… divine purpose… smirking to herself thinking of Masoud as a father.

She stopped counting. Despite the number of imagined infractions, they put upon her she was still expected to be at the event, acting supportive, representing her husband, and definitely keeping out of the way.

Five years ago, Masoud had convinced Julia to move to Iran. He spent a year prior to their actual move, traveling back and forth between countries trying to find the work he wanted, and investigating opportunities. A year later, they moved together. He was initially enthusiastic about the move. He had a job set up, which he started immediately after their arrival. She could see he enjoyed spending time with his family after so many years apart and speaking in his mother language was liberating.

Initially, their move was more like a trip or vacation. Building a new life gave promise of possibilities. As life became more real, working a job and learning how to do daily business he had never done in his mother country it became more frustrating.

He had learned to pay bills and set up utilities in America. He hadn’t performed these adult responsibilities in Iran. He felt foolish and would become discouraged. He experienced many barriers to things which seemed so simple to him in the US. He despised explaining to uninterested office workers, who acted as if he were dim-witted, the reason he was clueless at his age when people ten years younger than he knew what to do. It weighed on his fragile ego.

Julia tried to be supportive and encouraged him that these things would pass. He began to use liquor to ease stress. He used to drink beer on the weekends in the US, but not to excess. Now he was drinking vodka or other hard liquor every evening. She had no idea where he was purchasing so much alcohol in a country where the substance was illegal. She didn't want to know. She hoped it would simply be a phase.

About a year after their arrival, he began having headaches. A doctor prescribed him pain pills. His personality began to change significantly.

Life for the last three years had become a slow downward spiral. He was hardly ever home. He worked the usual days; Saturday (Shanbe) through Wednesday (Chahar-shanbe) and half a day on Thursday (Panj-Shanbe). As the oldest son, he was often required to visit his parents. His father’s health was frail as he suffered with emphysema after years of smoking. His mother had high expectations from him and demanded his time and attention.

Masoud’s interest in their home-life here, after four years, bordered on indifference. He rarely smiled or talked of pleasantries at home. He was quiet and sullen. He gave dinners for co-workers multiple times a year, which he continued to do. Julia believed this was mostly for show. The preparation was left mainly to her and the help they hired to assist. Masoud only had to show up and pretend their home was a haven of serenity. Even this task he didn’t do so well.

Their arguments had become more frequent and more intense. Most often occurring when he’d been drinking.

Today she made an off-the-cuff statement as she was preparing to leave, wishing she could get out of the engagement at his mother's house although not actually trying to.

I'm so tired of hearing you complain about my family. You make no effort to get to know them, he snapped at her.

I've made every effort. They aren’t interested in me. She rolled her eyes.

"You've given up. I thought you were made of stronger stuff, but you're lazy. You just care about yourself.

Masoud, if I just cared about myself, would I have moved halfway around the world to support the life you wanted? she answered him in a calm but firm manner, thinking this would appeal to his rationality. It didn’t work as she had hoped. He was beyond reason.

He exploded in an angry tirade beyond any she had seen. His voice was slurred, and eyes were droopy. She suspected both pills and the liquor were at fault. The rant turned into insults debasing her as a wife, friend, and lover, all of which were beyond her comprehension. She no longer knew this man.

In the end, he grabbed her handbag from the hook, shuffled for her keys, pulled them out and threw her purse at her yelling to get out and not come back. There was no use taking it farther while he was in this state. She wanted to hit him or slap him, if only to knock some sense into him, but she knew it would do no good. She walked out the door and he slammed it shut. She heard the lock click. She left the building, buttoning her monteau (overcoat) and adjusting her scarf. Walking to the main street she hailed the taxi in which she now sat.

*******

Recognizing she was nearing her drop off point, Julia came to attention in the present and asked the driver to let her off here. Ham inja lotfan - Right here please.

He pulled over and announced the ride fee.

She handed him the money, Merci – Thanks, and climbed out leaving her travel companions to continue their journey. Once on the sidewalk, she straightened her overcoat and scarf. It was a relief to feel the breeze penetrate through her clothes evaporating the perspiration. She would need to walk several blocks. This would give her a chance to cool down… both physically and emotionally.

Walking away from the chaotic six lane boulevard, she turned into a two-lane street with cars parked along either side. Between the street and the sidewalk were joobs. These irrigation ditches are part of a massive irrigation system originally devised during the Persian Empire. The method is still used today. Trees are planted in the ditches providing a natural watering system as well as shade along the sidewalks. Driveways and walkways cross the ditch at intervals.

She found the shade of the trees to be comforting. The light breeze rustling the leaves reminded her of the gentle shaking of a daf drum, rhythmic and restful. It occurred to her she should just keep on walking enjoying the sounds and the shade, but she had arrived at her destination.

She stood at the heavy metal gate hesitating but eventually pushed the buzzer.

Befarmaa-eed – Hello, responded the bored voice of a teenager who was assigned duty as gate keeper.

Manam, Julia - It’s me, Julia, she said into the speaker.

Befarmaa-eed – Please enter, the voice repeated with the same lack of enthusiasm as before. The buzzer sounded as the gate’s latch popped open. She went through, pushing it shut and listening for the latch to catch, then headed to the front door. There were three children of varying ages, four through seven, standing in the open door waiting for her with big smiles.

The smallest was jumping up and down and clapping. Salaam Zan Daaii – Hello Aunt (lit. maternal uncle’s wife)! they chimed in unison. These were her sister-in-law’s children. Not the pregnant one, Suri, but the older sister Sussann. These children were unaware of their mother’s disdain for her. They loved her because she frequently brought them little gifts and was always available for a hug, game, or story. Although the stories she told were both simple in structure and language ability.

Salaam bachehaa-ye khoob - Hello nice children! This would possibly be her best greeting of the evening. She kissed them one by one pulling a small plastic toy out of her pocket to give to each of them. The smallest child hugged her attempting to reach completely around her neck in appreciation for the pink plastic figurine treasure.

Kheili mamnun - Thank you very much! each child responded with enthusiasm.

She didn’t look forward to greeting her in-laws. Was Masoud right? Was she the problem? Had she caused the rift between them and herself? This was her line of thought as she entered the foyer and removed her shoes. Khaanum Rafaati - Mrs. Rafaati came over to greet her.

Julia jun -Julia dear! she said as she took both of her hands and kissed her on each cheek as was tradition. Haalet khoobeh, azizam - Are you in good health, my darling? she inquired.

Merci Hajj Khaanum. Khoobam – Thank you Hajj Madam. I’m good. (A respectful nickname for one who has gone to Mecca to complete the religious pilgrimage of Hajj), Julia responded and inquired to her health as well.

Khaanum Rafaati helped her off with her overcoat and led her to a side room to lay it and her belongings alongside other guest’s items. This woman was kind to her and seemed genuinely interested in her whenever they met. Julia couldn’t help but appreciate her kind conversation.

 Eventually she excused herself and went to the kitchen where she expected to find her in-laws. All three were there; Khaanum Hakimi – ‘Maman’, Sussann, and Suri. Salaam. Khaste nabaasheen - Hello. Don’t be tired, she announced herself with a customary greeting appreciating their hard work attempting to sound lighthearted. She received looks of disapproval from her mother-in-law and Sussann.

Salaam – Hello, said Suri the younger sister but looking at her mother she hesitated to say more.

So, you came, her mother-in-law responded in Farsi. Her voice rang cold sending a shiver through Julia.

Yes, Maadar – Mother - Hakimi. Didn’t you invite me? Julia attempted to state it as fact, avoiding the sarcasm she felt. She was determined to hold her ground without being disrespectful, if only to buy herself time to plan where she would go after dinner.

My son called me, said Khaanum Hakimi and continued to tell her she knew he had thrown her out of his home. She ended with how she supposed today she could celebrate two of her wishes from God.

First, my dear Suri became pregnant, and second, my son has finally broken off with you, she said.

The older sister Sussann added a barbed, Khodaa-ye shokr - Thank God!

Julia was stunned. She knew they didn't like her, but she hardly imagined such animosity. This would be the best time to leave, but she wasn't sure where she would go. She needed time to think. She looked at the three of them unwaveringly.

Khob - Fine, she said and left the room.

What she found so ironic about her situation was everywhere she went in Iran she was treated kindly. The only people who didn’t seem to like her were her in-laws. Well, and now my husband, she contemplated. Although, her father-in-law appeared to like her… albeit he was ill and not strong enough to express a firm opinion.

She walked into the sitting room to be greeted by ten or so women who were chatting in various groups. She was familiar with most of them.

Julia! they exclaimed and stood to greet her formally with hand clasps and a kiss on each cheek. She was introduced to the three guests she didn’t know. As she chatted, with some in English and others in Farsi, she was at ease and even enjoying the conversations. Continuously she was analyzing and trying to understand why everyone except her husband’s family treated her with such reverence.

Khaanum Rafaati excused herself to her hostess, stating she had left her diabetic medication in her son’s car and would need him to bring it. She asked to use a phone in a quiet room. Suri led her to a bedroom with a phone and closed the door, leaving her alone to make her call. She dialed her son, listening for the sound of any extension being picked up, concerned others might hear her conversation.

Alo - Hello, her son answered.

Hossein, manam – it’s me. Something’s happened here, she whispered. I overheard that Masoud kicked Julia out of their house. I overheard them talking to her. His mother and sister spoke to her disrespectfully. I think she needs our help. You’ve been saying you’re worried about her. I thought maybe you’d want to help. I want to help. You could bring my medication… if you need an excuse to come.

There was a pause. She began to think maybe she had misread her