Free Rooftops of Tehran by Mahbod Seraji Page A

what you should do. Why don’t you go to the West, date somebody for a while, get to know her really well, and then come back and marry Zari.” And with that, he turns over and begins to snore.
    I sit there watching him for a few seconds. Then I get up, kick him in the ass, and return to my bed.

6
    Vignettes of Love
    Ahmed, Faheemeh, and I spend almost every day at Zari’s house. I complain to Ahmed that all we do is sit around and talk, and that as wonderful as being with Faheemeh and Zari is, we should be doing other things, or the girls will soon get bored with us.
    “Doing what else?” Ahmed asks.
    “Take them out, go to the movies, go out to dinner,” I say. “You know, exciting stuff.”
    “Really?” Ahmed asks sarcastically. “Now, would we tap into your checking account or my savings for that?”
    I frown and shrug.
    “And where the hell do you think we live, in America? This is Iran, and we’re in our neighborhood—”
    “Okay, okay, forget I said anything,” I interrupt, knowing never to broach the topic again.
    As the summer passes, it’s evident that we’re becoming better friends because we easily share our most intimate and personal experiences with one another. It’s hard to say good-bye in the evenings. No one wants to leave, and we joke about it endlessly.
    “It’s time to go,” one of us will say.
    “Yeah, definitely time to go,” someone else confirms, but no one moves and we all laugh. “Okay, maybe just a few more minutes, but then we really ought to go.”
    “Oh, yeah, definitely. Just a few more minutes.”
    It’s easy to see that Ahmed and Faheemeh are in love. A special softening and sense of contentment take over Ahmed when he’s around Faheemeh. He says he feels almost religious in her presence. “It’s like I’m not me anymore. I can even tolerate being around Iraj,” he says.
    “It’s so exciting to watch their relationship evolve,” Zari says one time when we’re alone. “They look more like a couple every time we see them, don’t they?”
    “They do.”
    “Their relationship is so different than mine with Doctor.”
    Every time she mentions Doctor, I involuntarily begin rolling up my shirtsleeves.
    “Theirs is exciting and new,” Zari continues dreamily. “Ours feels sort of dull in comparison, you know what I mean? Like we’ve already been married forever.”
    Then, as if she suddenly realizes that she is talking negatively about Doctor, she giggles and says, “Don’t get me wrong. I adore Doctor. He’s a wonderful human being. He’s so smart, so compassionate. I feel so lucky to have him. Can you imagine a girl like me getting a guy like Doctor?”
    She’s trying too hard . Doctor is a great guy, but Zari cannot be entirely happy with their arranged marriage and with the lack of opportunity to experience love on her own. Does Doctor know how she feels? What would he do if he knew? Does he really love Zari, or is he just relying on the wisdom of his elders instead of the intuition of his own heart?
    Every once in a while, Zari makes up an excuse to go inside the house to do a chore, and she always asks me to go along.
    “Let’s leave them alone for a little bit,” she whispers as soon as we are a couple of steps away from them.
    “Yes, let’s,” I respond, exploding inside with excitement.
    One day when we’re in the living room, she shows me a notebook and asks me if I can keep a secret.
    “Of course,” I say, relishing the thought of being promoted to the status of a trusted companion. She opens the book and shows me pencil drawings of our alley.
    She doesn’t want anyone to know that she draws and I assure her that I will keep her secret. Then she points to one of the pictures and says, “You guys playing soccer! Can you tell which one is you?”
    “Which one?”
    “You weren’t there that day!” she teases with a smart-aleck smile on her face. I grin back. She says people and places are her favorite things to draw, and shows me