I gave her the telegram to Tony and asked her if I could have an envelope and stamp for the letter to my assistant. She said she would bring them to me.

I ate some of the food—eggs, bread, and a glass of hot milk—with little appetite.

Dr. Majid came in, followed by Manijeh.

“I hear you’re still in pain,” he said, standing by my bed.

“Maybe I should go back to Teheran—there must be better hospitals there.” I was complaining and bad-tempered, I knew, but could not help it.

“At this point, this hospital is as good as any for you. We’re just giving you preliminary tests. Travelling could only do you harm.”

His eyes, half-hidden under puffy lids, reflected personal affront.

“It’s the uncertainty. At least if I knew what it is. I wish I had never taken this trip.”

“We’ll know what’s wrong in a couple of days. The minute we have the results of the blood tests, we’ll know where to go from there.” He held my wrist and began to count my pulse.

“Everything is normal—her temperature, blood pressure,” Manijeh said.

He let go of my hand. “I’ll put you on a stronger medicine for now,” he said and they both left.

My mother and uncle came in near noon—there seemed to be few visiting restrictions in the hospital and the garden was always filled with visitors. My mother was panting a little from the walk. They brought flowers and food for the nurse to heat up and serve to me for lunch.

The room became filled with the aroma of the flowers—jasmin, lilacs, and roses. On the ceramic vase holding the flowers there was a picture of a man and a woman sitting under a willow tree drinking wine.

My mother and uncle sat on chairs beside me and for a little while we were silent.

“You’ll get better,” my mother said at last. “I’ve been praying for you.”

“Yes, you’ll get better,” my uncle said.

“I hope you’re right,” I said.

My uncle looked at me directly. “Remember me when I used to be able to see?” he asked suddenly.

“Yes,” I said. The recollection was vague.

“You would never get tired of making me chase you around or carry you on my shoulders.”

“Have you shown your eyes to any good doctors?”

“To every doctor in so many cities. I spent most of my savings on it—remember I used to fix old bicycles and sell them—but it was no use. I worried about my eyes constantly. I was sad and withdrawn for months. Then, one day, a revelation came to me. I was finding my way across the street with my cane. A car made a harsh, screeching sound and a man started shouting obscenities at me. ‘Why don’t you watch out, you son of a bitch. I almost ran you over.’ I stood there, my whole body shaking. I left the street and found a tree to sit under. I kept shaking for a long time. Then I had a strong vision. I saw layer and layer of flesh being removed from me like cotton until my skeleton was revealed. The skeleton began to walk, making clanking sounds, and then it too began to come apart, collapsing into powder. Yet, as I watched my body disintegrating, I felt something in me coming alive, something that made me see that tree with its green leaves, a woman with a red skirt gathering something from the field across the road. I felt the tree, the scenery around me ….”