I went mute, not out of wisdom but out of fear. My instinct told me that the answer to a question asked in the basement without turning the lights on would bring disaster. Father looked at me suspiciously. I didn’t look like a mischievous and scheming little girl at all, and since he was not a persistent person anyway, he gave up very quickly and left the basement. The reward I got from Maman’s gentle tone an hour later turned my simple and cowardly act of going mute into a meaningful and wise silence.

In later years, I was repeatedly admired by the women in the family for being reserved, for being secretive. I soon realized that I was like a chest full of secrets with a tight lid.

Aunt Mahboub praised my silence, and later on others echoed her praise. If a secret was exposed, if something was revealed, all eyes would turn toward Mahin. I was immune from all suspicious looks.

It was after Father’s death that I broke my silence by screaming. I was sick and tired of my assigned role. I wanted the whole world and everybody to know everything. I didn’t want to be anybody’s accomplice, even my mother’s. That’s why I screamed. Father had died lonely and like a child. This was tormenting me. Maman answered my screaming with more screaming. Shahla and Mahin took Maman’s side. They said I had become foolish and I’d better shut up, but I kept screaming. Father had died like a child. His head had slipped off the mattress and he had died. Mahin had to kiss my face, begging me to leave the basement. I had never felt as close to Father as on the day he died.

Shahla said, “If you remember how mean he was, how oppressive, you’d calm down.” But I kept screaming that if he was a bully, why didn’t he die like one? Maman was shouting too. That morning of screaming made me feel absolutely helpless. I realized that there would be no truth exchanged between Maman and me.

When I moved from Father’s house to Amir’s, my secretiveness had no use. Amir was frustrated with my silence. He wanted me to talk about everyday events, about the neighborhood news, about Shahla, about Mahin. There was no room for secrecy in our new life. It would create distance and cause suspicion. If something was discovered later than it should, a fight would break out. Amir wanted everything to be transparent. My silence scared him. Slowly I got used to rambling, even when it wasn’t necessary. Years later, I learned that talking can even be a better cover than silence.