Free Together Tea by Marjan Kamali Page B

were one of the men that Darya had graphed for Mina. Darya realized that Parviz was so accustomed to talking with potential suitors that he was perfectly comfortable making conversation with strange men. Only this wasn’t a potential suitor for Mina, and they both knew that. This was different. An air of awkwardness cloaked their table, their chairs, the way the knitted scarf cloaked Parviz’s neck. They could chat and laugh and drink together and pretend it was all perfectly normal.
    But it wasn’t.
    ON THE DRIVE HOME, PARVIZ was uncharacteristically quiet. He wasn’t positive. He wasn’t excited or zealous or passionate. He didn’t spout his self-help guru psychobabble phrases like “the universe is unfolding as it should.”
    He just said, “I’m tired, Darya,” when they returned home and brushed his teeth and went to bed. There was no honeyed milk, no long lectures, no reprimands, no questions.
    Quiet Parviz, Darya realized, was worse than all the other self-help, positive, overbearingly silly Parvizes she’d ever known.
    Quiet Parviz took her by surprise.

Chapter Ten

    No, Na, Non, Nein, Nyet
    N o. Na. Non. Nein. Nyet. How many ways would you like me to tell you?”
    Baba rubbed one hand on his bald head, a glass of tea in the other. Mina sat in her parents’ living room. Baba paced and took deep breaths. Mina knew he was using “Stay Calm!” techniques from his latest self-help tape. He smiled extra widely at Mina as he handed Darya an estekan of tea. Darya sat perfectly still in the big armchair, her legs crossed.
    â€œSee now, Mina Joon.” Baba spoke as if he were talking to a mental patient who could attack him at any moment. “See now, joonam . What you’re suggesting is ludicrous. First of all, you’re in school. Second, the political situation there is unpredictable at best. Third, I think you’re just really tired. So let’s just focus on the present.” He stopped pacing. “You OWN today!” he said, but his voice shook. “The past is not your dictator!”
    â€œIt’s for a visit, Baba. People go back all the time now. I just need to see it again. To be there . . .”
    Baba laughed a high, nervous laugh. “Mina Joon, is it the stress of your graduate program? Are you worried about finals? Look, your mother—” He pointed to Darya who sat sipping tea serenely. “Your mother will talk some sense into you.”
    Why wasn’t Darya more alarmed at Mina’s announcement that she wanted to go back to Iran? Why was her mother so calm all of a sudden?
    â€œStay focused. On the task at hand. No crazy trip ideas.” Baba took in a deep breath.
    All day, Mina had rehearsed the conversation with her parents in her head, anticipating all the derailments. But even as she’d played out their inevitable discouragement, she’d still felt strangely energized. As if she had just finished skiing in the Damavand mountains. Or had chased Hooman and Kayvon screaming and giggling through their old garden. Or had smelled again the lemon trees at Mamani and Agha Jan’s house. Just the idea of physically being back there again was exhilarating. She couldn’t let Darya and Baba talk her out of it.
    â€œGo ahead, Darya Joon, tell her,” Baba said, nodding.
    â€œTell her what?” Darya asked.
    â€œWhat do you mean?” Baba stopped pacing and studied his wife carefully. “Darya, what has gotten into you lately? Your daughter wants to visit the Islamic Republic of Iran. Hello? Tell her, Darya, why this is a ludicrous plan!”
    Darya sipped her tea and sighed.
    â€œSay something, Darya Joon!” Baba gave Darya a desperate look.
    â€œWhat would you like me to say?”
    Mina hadn’t seen her mother sit up so straight in a long time.
    â€œExcuse me?” Baba stopped. He looked up at the ceiling and held up a finger as if telling an invisible