Read Online Together Tea by Marjan Kamali - Free Book Online Page A

would land firmly on that street and take in that other world again.

Chapter Eight

    Life on the Hyphen
    T he river reflected the streetlights, and all Mina could hear was the passing traffic on the Drive. As she jogged along Riverside Park, Mina saw Mr. Dashti’s doughy hands holding his tea and his look of hesitation when their eyes met. Of course he was like all the other men: well educated, polite, careful. But there was something different this time. Maybe it was the palpable relief she saw on his face when they didn’t click. The sense that he was equally lost in this messy matchmaking business. He didn’t want it either. Poor Mr. Dashti was just as stuck as she was.
    Mina’s sneakered feet hit the tarmac. How would she tell her parents about her decision to return to Iran? They would be so worried about her safety. She hadn’t been back in fifteen years. What if she was accused of being an American spy and detained? The political situation there was unpredictable. Anything could happen. But Mina had to go. She wanted to know what Agha Jan was doing every day without Mamani to cook him his meals, talk to him, sing for him Googoosh’s songs and recite Rumi’s verses. She needed to know where Bita was. What was she doing? Over the years, Mina had put that world out of her mind. Stuffed it away, just as she had shoved her oil paints into plastic storage boxes and slid them under her old bed in her parents’ house. She hadn’t had time for reflection as the dean put it. To reflect on the place where her mother had grown up in her element. Because Mina was busy building, busy striving, busy making.
    After her run, she practiced the karate kicks that her brothers had taught her when they were children. After all these years, she still loved doing those kicks. She raised her leg, put it in chamber position and leaned back the way Kayvon had taught her. Then she kicked out. Imagine getting Bruce Lee in the knee, the groin, the “precious place” Kayvon had drilled into her. Don’t be afraid. Kick! Mina kicked over and over again at her imaginary opponent, then jump-switched to work her other leg.
    Back in her apartment, she showered and got ready for bed. But she couldn’t sleep. Maybe she was crazy for wanting to go. What if she could never come back to her life here? She turned on the TV. A late-night talk show host swayed in his suit and made fun of the president. The audience laughed. Mina still felt a twinge of danger when Americans said negative things about their leaders. But you could get away with it here. And now she was going to go someplace where the rules were vastly different. She had to call her brother.
    â€œHow did your lunch with the latest greatest suitor go?” Kayvon asked.
    â€œRidiculous. Embarrassing. As always. I can’t keep doing this, Kayvon,” Mina said.
    â€œDon’t worry, kiddo. Mom will find a new hobby soon. This spreadsheet thing is getting absurd.”
    â€œI know.” Mina sighed. It was a relief to talk to Kayvon. She had always been closer to him than to Hooman. Maybe it was because she was only three years younger than Kayvon and six years younger than Hooman. But it was also because of her brothers’ different personalities. Kayvon was more easygoing, more relaxed. He could usually make Mina, or anyone for that matter, see the lighter side of things. Hooman was more serious. And now that they were all adults, Hooman’s schedule as a doctor didn’t leave him much time for small talk. Ever since he got married, he had even less time.
    â€œShe never did this with Hooman. Or you. Right? I mean, Hooman’s married to an American. Your girlfriend’s from Brooklyn. Why do I have to be matched with the perfect Persian? It is such a double standard.”
    â€œYou’re her favorite, that’s why. She just wants to see you settled. Happy. She’s obsessed.”
    â€œIsn’t it enough