Father took refuge in the basement and stayed there until the end. Maman’s wailing passed through the doors, the walls, and our bodies, and continued in our dreams.

Chapter 10

10

The problem was that Father’s heart was healthy, but his legs didn’t move. The brain didn’t communicate properly. His speech was troubled, and he was confused. Amidst all this, his heart was like a general who continued to give useless commands in a battle that had already ended.

The first time he got lost, like all things that are good only the first time, he received everyone’s attention for a few days. We told everybody the story of his getting lost, and he laughed more than anybody. But nobody felt like laughing the second time he got lost. An older man brought him home and delivered him to us in a humiliating way. His pants were wet, and he said he’d taken to the road.

In days to come, it was the longing for the road that brought him out of the half-lit basement. Shahla wrote the home address on a piece of paper and put it in his coat pocket. Father thanked her like a respectable gentleman.

He then asked for “that stick.” He meant his cane. He came back and said he had forgotten to take the thing that has two lenses and is worn on the eyes. Mahin gave him his glasses. His speech was like a riddle that each one of us loved to solve first. But this habit got old pretty soon too, and the puzzles of his final days were never resolved.

Chapter 11

11

Aunt Mahboub didn’t have any children. Sometimes she needed a child in her life, and she’d borrow one of us from Maman. Shahla was too old to be a child. Perhaps she had previously played a child for Aunt Mahboub. Mahin was too much of a brat and unruly. I was more suited than anybody else.

Aunt Mahboub would give me a bath before anything. She put me between her strong legs and would wash my head as if there was nothing soft in it. She used all her might. Changing my clothes, she’d say, “Your mother is sloppy.” In a few hours, I was transformed so much that I didn’t know what to do with my new self. That’s what she wanted. She wanted to cleanse me of my old ways and to mold me the way she liked. She taught me how to eat properly, how to give thanks in a clear voice after eating, and how to wash myself in the toilet so I wouldn’t smell.

When my training was over, Aunt Mahboub would allow me to treat myself to the chocolate on the coffee table.

She said, “Think of this place as your own home.”