Read Online Rooftops of Tehran by Mahbod Seraji - Free Book Online Page B

idea what to say. Keivan walks into the kitchen, gets a glass of water, and leaves immediately. Maybe Iraj isn’t such a bad guy after all, I tell myself as I think of how he looks at Ahmed’s sister.
    Zari says, “They look lovely together.”
    I agree. “It’s nice of you to do this for them.”
    “Oh, I would do anything for Ahmed. He’s a great guy.”
    “He is,” I concur, and realize that I’m out of things to say.
    A long, awkward pause ensues.
    “Are you always so quiet?” she asks, flashing me a smile over her shoulder.
    “No, not usually,” I say, struggling to think of something profound to say about the way I interact with people, but failing miserably and slinking back to my silence.
    “Is there anyone special in your life?”
    I don’t know what to say. She notices my pause and turns around to see if I’m still there. She grins when she notices that I’m blushing.
    “Don’t be shy. I’m only a couple of years older than you are. You can tell me anything. That is, if you want to.”
    “Yes, there’s someone special.” I think this is the best answer because it gives me something to talk to her about.
    “Ah, I thought so. I see you and Ahmed up on the roof every night. I figured you two must talk about girls.” She pauses for a little while. “So now I know he talks to you about Faheemeh. Who’s the queen of your stories?”
    I feel tremendously excited to have her attention focused on me. I look around a little bit, throw my arms up, shift my weight from one leg to the other a couple of times and say, as she is intently watching me, “I can’t tell you who she is.”
    A smile springs up to her face. “You’re so cute,” she says. After a few seconds, she walks up to the refrigerator and takes out some apples. “Now, why not? Why can’t you tell me?”
    I don’t reply.
    “Quiet and shy!” she teases. “Girls love shy and quiet guys, the mysterious kind, did you know that?”
    I shake my head no, while wishing my mother could hear that some people think being introverted is immensely attractive.
    “Now you must tell me,” Zari insists. “You know how people become good friends? By sharing secrets. So tell me, who is she?” She walks back to her original spot. “Is she pretty? Do I know her? Does she live in our alley? Come on, who is she?”
    “You know her,” I whisper.
    “Oh, good. So she must live in the alley. This is good, we’re getting somewhere now.”
    I keep quiet.
    “Does she go to school?” she asks.
    “She just graduated from high school.”
    “An older woman! That’s always exciting. Is she pretty?”
    “She’s the most beautiful woman on the planet,” I blurt out. “She has blue eyes, a lovely chin and great cheekbones.”
    I notice that she stops peeling for a few seconds, and fear that I’ve gone too far. After all, she’s the only girl in our alley with blue eyes.
    “She sounds great. Where does she live?” she asks, keeping her back to me.
    “Close by,” I say, hesitantly.
    “What do you like about her, besides her looks of course?” she continues, her tone a bit more serious.
    “Everything,” I admit. “She reminds me of snow, pure and clean; of rivers, calm and flowing; of rain, revitalizing and refreshing; of a mountain, strong and majestic; and of flowers, delicate and soft.”
    Zari turns around and stares right at me with a puzzled but thoughtful, crooked smile. Her gaze is loaded with questions, the kind that strike the mind like a flash of lightning, momentarily illuminating your surroundings then leaving you wondering, in the ensuing darkness, what you actually saw.
    “Does Ahmed know who she is?” she finally asks.
    “Yes.”
    “I’m going to ask him—you know that, don’t you?”
    She begins to laugh, and we carry the food and beverages out to the yard. I feel so weak that I have to use every ounce of energy in my body not to drop the fruit bowl. When we get back to the yard, Zari brings out her father’s camera