Tony and I spent the next morning buying tickets—two days later was the first date available—and getting my exit visa.

In the afternoon Darius came to the doorway of my room and said, “I’ll take you for a ride if you want.”

I asked Tony if he wanted to go. He was sitting on the bed, looking over a paper he had a deadline on in a few days.

“I don’t know. I thought I’d finish this first.” Then he changed his mind. “All right, I’ll go.”

My father and Ziba were sitting in the courtyard, sipping tea.

“Darius is taking us for a ride,” I said. “Would you like to come?”

“Neither of us likes rides.” My father’s face looked deeply wrinkled in the bright sun. He patted Ziba on the back. “Right?”

Ziba nodded and rubbed her head against his hand.

The display of affection between them startled me. I had either neglected to see it before or they felt more free now to be open about it in front of me.

“Tell him we have some of the best sights,” my father said, looking at Tony. “Tell him we invented many things that the world uses.”

I said that to Tony. He nodded at my father.

“Show him Shemiran, the Zoor Khaneh,” Ziba said to Darius, her eyes fixed on Tony.

No one referred to him by his name.

We started to leave—Darius walked a little ahead of us, carrying his jacket over his shoulder.

In the car I sat in the middle and kept telling Darius to be more cautious. He drove frantically, as did most of the other drivers, and Tony and I clutched one another at each turn, each jerk of the car.

We drove through the center of Teheran and then entered the wide, quiet streets leading to Shemiran.

Darius pointed to the Western-looking shops and restaurants. “Make sure he takes a good look at these,” he said. “Shall we eat in one of those restaurants?”

“They aren’t interesting to him. They’re like restaurants in the United States.”

“Then I know where to take him.”

We passed through the Shemiran Bridge, jammed with pedestrians, vendors, cars, pushcarts heaped with pyramids of grapes, apples and oranges, fresh gold dates, green almonds, bunches of bananas, pomegranates. Plastic bags, belts, and jewelry. Toy camels. Noise vibrated in the air.

“What’s going on here?” Tony asked. “Something seems to be happening.”

“This is just the usual crowd, people come here in the evening and walk around.”

“Unbelievable.”

For the first time since he had arrived he seemed somewhat relaxed. It made me feel better.

We turned on to a quiet, uphill road. Then Darius parked the car and we got out. We walked on the narrow hilly paths, then down a slope. A man selling green almonds from a wooden platter on his head approached us. Darius stopped him and bought three bags of almonds. We ate the sour fruit, spitting out the pits as we walked. At the bottom of the slope there was a restaurant. Its sitting area consisted of rug-covered platforms over a rivulet of water. People sat on the rugs, eating food from trays laid in front of them. Gas lamps, hung on cypress and oak trees, provided a flickering yellow light. A cool, wet breeze rose from the water and brushed against me.