Free Things We Left Unsaid by Zoyâ Pirzâd

her, thinking that the fiasco of the Doctor’s marriage might be all
but forgotten.
    Mother was livid. ‘Acho!’ Whenever Mother called Alice by this childhood nickname – which my sister detested – it meant she was in high dudgeon. ‘There you go
again, dipping in the sugar vat?’ Apparently the fiasco was long put to rest, if Mother felt emboldened to gripe at Alice about her sweet-tooth.
    Alice poured two heaping spoonfuls of sugar in her coffee cup and stirred. She took another cream puff and turned to me, ignoring Mother. ‘So tell me about it. What was the son like? Did
his mother wear any new jewelry?’
    Mother pressed her lips together and turned her face to the ceiling. ‘Holy Mary, Mother of God. Here she goes again.’
    I wondered how to describe Emile Simonian. What I remembered most was that he seemed to look at you from a great distance and that all of his movements – sitting, walking, eating –
were smooth, easy. But that was not what my sister wanted to hear.
    ‘He was tall, well-dressed and...handsome.’ As the words came out of my mouth, I regretted saying it.
    The third cream puff hung in the air between the cardboard box and Alice’s mouth. ‘How old?’
    I placed my coffee cup back in the saucer and shrugged my shoulders. ‘I don’t know. Forty, I suppose.’ Mother closed the lid on the cream puffs, slid the box over to me and
gestured toward the fridge. Alice was looking out the window, paying no attention to us.
    Mother said, ‘He must be just about that age.’ Then she stared at Alice. ‘Don’t even think about it.’
    Alice, her face still toward the window, ran her hand through her hair. ‘I have a hairdresser’s appointment tomorrow.’ Then she looked at me. ‘Do you think I should cut
my hair short?’
    Mother looked at me and shook her head. We both knew by heart the sequence of events that would next transpire. Whenever an unmarried man turned up, Alice first got a new hair-do and then she
went on a diet, for a few days or few weeks, depending upon how long the infatuation lasted. And, according to what she told us more than what our eyes could verify, she would lose weight. I got up
and took the fruit bowl out of the fridge, telling myself, ‘Don’t argue, now.’
    Alice said, ‘Yoo hoo, I’m talking to you. I asked if you think short hair looks good or—’
    I began clearing away the coffee cups and hurriedly offered, ‘Sure. Why not?’
    We heard the brakes of Artoush’s Chevy screech, and moments later the twins ran in. ‘ Hello , Nanny. Hello , Auntie.’
    Mother hugged Armineh. ‘Again with the hellos in English? We’re not English. Are we? Say it in Armenian: Barev!’
    Alice hugged Arsineh. ‘Are you on the children’s case again? Is there anyone left in Abadan who does not say Hello ? You yourself spout English words left and right.’
    Mother glared. ‘Me? Never!’
    Alice glared back. ‘You? All the time!’ She cocked her head to the right and mimicked Mother. ‘The kitchen fan is broken.’ She cocked her head to the left.
‘Alice has gone to the hospital .’ Again to the right. ‘The store had no twist bread, so I bought rolls .’ Again to the left. ‘Kids, be
careful you don’t fall off your bicycles .’ She stared right at Mother, ‘Armen’s tenni shoes are worn out. And by the way, it’s tennis shoes , not tenni shoes .’
    The children laughed, and Mother gave Alice a dirty look. Alice went on, ‘Yesterday one of the doctors told a funny story.’
    Armineh sat facing Alice. ‘Auntie, you tell it to us and then we’ll...’
    Arsineh sat by Armineh’s side. ‘...then we’ll tell you about the movie.’
    Alice asked Mother, ‘What happened to the cream puffs? Did you sneak them back to the fridge again?’
    ‘Auntie, tell us,’ said Armineh.
    ‘Tell us, Auntie,’ said Arsineh.
    I grabbed Armen’s arm, whose hand was headed for the refrigerator door. I wagged my finger at him, warning, no cream puffs for