Sarah didn’t know what to say. She agreed with Ali’s sentiment but didn’t want to seem overly eager to criticize his sister and brother-in-law. She opted for what she hoped were sympathetic listening noises as she played with Ali’s fingernails
“When your mother pulled you away . . .” Ali’s tone softened as he squeezed her hand. “I thought I might never see my gollam, my little flower, again.”
Ali pulled Sarah’s hand to his lips for a sweet kiss, his breath on the back of her fingertips jolting something in Sarah’s belly.
“I love my sister,” Ali went on after a pause. “But I don’t know if I would ever have forgiven her if I’d lost you because of her.”
“Don’t be silly,” Sarah said, conveniently forgetting how close she’d been to complying with Maman-joon’s request. “You could never lose me.”
As Ali smiled at Sarah in response, flashing headlights behind them announced that their parents had arrived. Ali started off with the two cars behind them.
The parking lot’s exit onto Khodami Street was blocked by a huddle of unkempt young men gesturing to a tall, slim man Sarah recognized as her cousin Sadegh, Aunt Mehri’s youngest child.
Sadegh held out a hand to command Ali to stop as he continued listening to the men around him.
“What’s up?” Ali asked Sarah as he traced delicious circles on the inside of Sarah’s palm with his thumb.
“Nemidoonam. I have no idea. These must be some of Sadegh’s Basiji men. Maybe something’s happened.”
Ali rolled down the window, let go of Sarah’s hand, and leaned his head out of the car. “Agha Sadegh, ejaze mifarmayid? Would it be possible for us to pass by?”
No answer.
“Agha Sadegh, I’m sorry to interrupt you. Would you mind stepping to the side?” Ali tried again.
Sadegh glanced toward their car and lifted a long finger to signal they were to keep waiting as he carried on with his men.
“What exactly does he do with them?” Ali asked Sarah.
“Who knows? One of his friends, an old teacher of his, I think, is with the Basij and Sadegh helps out. Sometimes they do checkpoints or break up those parties with alcohol and drugs and stuff. These days I guess they’re doing things related to the demonstrations, but I don’t know why they’re outside a wedding. Did you see him in the men’s section, or has he been outside the whole time?”
Ali shrugged. “I can’t remember, azizam. There were so many people in there.”
Sarah wished Ali would take her hand again. She could still feel a slight tingle from where his fingers had been interlaced with hers.
After a brief pause, Sarah continued, “Sadegh would probably go full-time with the Basij if he didn’t have to run the family shops. He’s just like Aunt Mehri.” Sarah shook her head with irritation. “He loves telling people what to do.”
“Shhh. Mishnaveh . . . he’ll hear you,” Ali warned, reminding Sarah that the car window was still down.
But Sadegh was still busy with the men, who were now listening as he gave orders. Sarah watched as he leaned into an aggressive posture and suddenly grabbed the man in front of him. Sadegh bunched the man’s shirt into his fist and pulled him close as he yelled something that Sarah couldn’t make out. Then he pushed the man away and stalked toward their vehicle.
Sadegh leaned into Ali’s window. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” he said in a gruff voice that belied his slim frame. Then he took a breath and changed his tone. “I wanted to give my congratulations to the new couple.”
Ali answered, “Mersi, Mr. Sadegh. Thank you so much.”
Sarah didn’t like how deferential Ali’s voice sounded. She bit her teeth and kept quiet.
Noting Sarah’s silence, Sadegh congratulated her again, “Mobaraket, my cousin, may the two of you grow old together.”
Sarah nodded her head slightly and managed a cold smile, “Mersi, mahremat ziyad,” she said, using the overly formal words of thanks to indicate her irritation in a subtle Iranian way. She was desperate to get out of the parking lot and to her new home where she and her husband could begin their life together, and she was furious with Sadegh for delaying them further. It was hard to remember that there was ever a time that she’d actually had a crush on her cousin. She’d been fourteen years old, and Sadegh seemed so smart and handsome, not to mention the fact that he was one of the only marriageable males she regularly interacted with. The crush had been short-lived. When Sadegh complained to his mother, Aunt Mehri, that Sarah was flirting with him, the ensuing humiliation was enough to transform her budding attraction into a dislike bordering on hate.
Sadegh continued looking at Sarah in a pointed, almost inappropriate manner. Sarah returned his gaze steadily. In the dark, the pale green eyes that Sarah had once found so mesmerizing seemed to give off a light of their own. Sarah silently cursed him as she held the stare defiantly. Couldn’t he just let them go?
Sadegh stroked his beard. “My mother and Sumayeh left early. What happened in there?” he asked.
Perhaps if the day hadn’t been quite so long, if she’d managed to eat or drink something, or if her corset wasn’t trying to strangle her at the waist, Sarah’s answer would have been more typically polite. As it was, she surprised herself and her new husband by snarling. “Nothing happened! Aunt Mehri ruined my wedding, that’s all. Now can we go?”
Ali laughed nervously, “Ey baba . . . the wedding wasn’t ruined. There was a . . . misunderstanding. And I hope the poor bandeye khoda didn’t get hurt when—”
Sadegh’s eyes had darkened to a deep teal. He cut Ali off abruptly. “Kheyle khob, okay. I’m sorry to have taken your time.”
Sadegh backed away from the car and signaled to his men to move out of the way. Then he turned back to the new couple. “Be careful out there tonight. Avoid Modarres Highway and take Valiasr Boulevard and you should be fine.”
“Mersi, agha Sadegh,” Ali responded as he bowed his head repeatedly.
Sadegh inclined his head in farewell, and the small caravan exited the parking lot.
* * *
But Sadegh was wrong. Just north of Vanak Square, traffic slowed to a snail’s pace.
“If we can get to the next alleyway,” Ali said, “I’ll head into the neighborhoods and see if we can find a way around this mess. Call our parents and let them know.”
Cellphone service had become unpredictable since the election unrest, and none of Sarah’s calls would go through. They turned to use hand signals to communicate their intent and realized that the car behind them belonged to neither set of parents.