Deliverance (11 page)

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Authors: Veronique Launier

BOOK: Deliverance
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Souls? I’ve never heard her speak like that before. Is this how she’s trying to connect with me? By acting spiritual? I sigh. "But times are different now. And I'm not part of a communist party. I just want to play music."

Maman adds even more sugar to her coffee and stirs it slowly. "Why don't you play for me?"

I'm about to argue that I don't have a harp, but realize I can use Ebi's guitar.

I go find him in his room and he pauses his video game when I enter. I stop to catch my breath. My brother is waiting for me to say something but the Fetid Crimson poster in the center of his wall commands all my attention. I'm not a fan, but I know who they are and recognize many of their songs. The groupie thing isn't really me. I never spent much time or energy on any band. I’m more into boys and make-up… well, at least I used to be.

On this poster, Ramtin is looking straight at me (at the camera, I guess) and I swear I know him. Like really know him. I shake my head and tear myself away from his unsettling gaze so I can ask Ebi to borrow his guitar.

He shrugs and resumes playing his game.

I return to the kitchen with the guitar in hand. Maman is waiting for me and my hands feel sweaty. The guitar doesn't pull me in the way the harp does but I'm sure I can play it. I have before.

I move a chair to face her and sit on it, cradling the instrument on my lap. I pick at its strings and at first it sounds like nothing. Worse than nothing. It sounds awful. But I continue, and my vision begins to fade.

I don't know where the hallucination has taken me this time. The only thing I can really concentrate on is who. Because Ramtin is standing directly in front of me. His smile is crooked, his eyebrows a little too thick. His light colored eyes are cold. I don't know how I could have found him attractive. Someone else enters the room. The French man. I can't see his facial expression but he turns and leaves the room. I had something I wanted to say to him. I stop playing.

The harp is no longer between my hands. Instead, the guitar is. Maman has tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Wow, Nakissa. When did you get that good?"

I shrug.

"That was beautiful. You must have worked so hard.” She wipes a tear from her eye. “Oh azizam, why did you never share this with me before? I'm really proud of you."

She hugs me and I feel guilty. Like I’m deceiving her. Because she thinks I’ve been working hard, but I haven't. I haven't done anything to deserve it. Everyone is impressed with me for nothing. Well, except for Ehsan. At least he realizes I'm a fraud.

Still tangled in Maman's embrace, I check my phone and realize he's texted me about the details of the party. He texted something else too.

“I don't think you should play with that band anymore. It's not safe for a girl to play in public.”

"You can go play your music at the party." Maman’s words cut through my anger. Ehsan doesn’t trust me but at least my mother does. "But please be careful. I only want you to be safe."

I hug and kiss her.

"Guess who texted me?"

I shrug. I'm a little preoccupied with Ehsan’s text and was planning on hashing out the meaning behind it over and over again on the way to the party. But instead, I get to hear how the foreigner has been texting back in forth with Leyli and though he wasn't being exactly flirty, he was certainly very friendly.

"Maybe we will get married and I will move to Canada with him."

"What is he doing here? Why does he speak Persian? He seems suspicious, don't you think?" I don't know where it’s coming from, but I’m suddenly very jealous. And though the things I listed are weird, they are not really suspicious.

“He’s mysterious. Don’t you love a good, sexy mystery?” She grins. “As we become closer, I’ll learn more about him and it will all make sense.” She raises her eyebrows at me and I shrug. “Maybe he’s studying? I bet you he’ll get his PhD.”

"So that's it? Just like that you're into him now?"

"Why shouldn't I be?"

“I don’t know.” I try to force the pout off my face.

"I love the new make-up by the way," Leyli says. "Much more mysterious rock star!"

I flip the car's sun visor down to look in the mirror. When doing my makeup, I had lined my eyes a lot darker than usual. I agree it looks good but I don’t remember doing it. Actually, I can’t remember getting ready at all. I turn cold. Little by little, the girl who looks back at me from the mirror is becoming someone else. I'm losing myself.

Tonight’s party is outside the city. How kicking is a party almost two hours away going to be? I have my reservations but Leyli is excited. She’s blasting the car stereo and singing along to the cheesy dance music. Her mood is contagious. The further we get from the city, the freer I feel.

We kill the lights and turn onto a poorly lit lane, past a few old farm buildings. Suddenly my nerves are singing with excitement. I’ve never been to a party like this before. As we approach what used to be a nice barn I see the other cars. A few people are walking toward the building with boxes of alcohol in hand. As soon as Leyli turns off the engine I can hear the music pounding from inside.

While still in the car I take off my scarf and manteaux. There is no point in masquerades here. Leyli and I grab each other’s hands and squeal in delight as we try to balance on our high heels on the rocky-dirt parking lot towards the barn. Ahead of us, two other girls struggle with the same issue, though they have the added disadvantages of having ultra-miniskirts they have to tug at to keep in place. We line up behind them and pay the hefty cover charge to enter. Once inside we stop, look at each other and grin.

Now this is a party.

The space is packed. People are dancing with their arms raised yet are still holding cigarettes and drinks in plastic cups. A DJ works from a platform on which instruments are also set up, while industrial sized speakers blast the heavy dance beats of remixed popular songs. A few other platforms spread throughout the space are home to girls dancing in small sequined numbers. Colored spotlights, strobe lights, and smoke effects completely transform the rustic barn into a top-rate European-style disco. I’ve only ever heard of parties like that before and I can’t believe how much work they’ve put into this one party.

I scan the crowd for Ehsan not expecting to find him. But he’s standing near the entrance, leaning against a wall smoking a cigarette and talking to a group of people that includes a few barely-dressed girls. So un-classy. I join him and he greets me with a brief hug and kiss. I'm not sure if the problem is with him or with me, but I’m so mad about the text and his body language with the bleach blonde bimbo standing next to him isn’t helping.

"Why did you say that?" I ask.

"Say what, baby?" He looks tired; I'm being too hard on him.

"Why did you think I shouldn't join the band? Do you actually think women shouldn't perform in public? Really? You have no problem supporting men in bands but I don't remember ever hearing you listen to a woman musician." My fists are clenched so tight I can feel my fingernails digging into my palms. All I want to do is transfer that pain into him.

His eyes widen. Why did I say that? He’s never seen me react like that. Now he’ll hate me.

"Baby, you’re a nice girl. I'm worried about your safety, that’s all. Bad things happen in these crowds. I don’t think you understand how things are in the real world."

"Oh." I look at my feet. I'm wearing the sparkly strap-on high-heeled sandals Leyli gave me last year but have never worn until tonight. I’d always found them too glam before, but they suit me now.

"I'm sorry," I mumble.

I am sorry. But I’m also still mad. I don’t know how to feel, but all of this is just not me. Not my hair. Not my clothes. And certainly not speaking my mind to my boyfriend like this. Part of me is horrified, the other is thrilled. Why shouldn’t he know how I feel?

"It's okay, baby. Hey, I need to go talk to someone. I'll catch up with you later, okay?"

"Sure." I try to keep the dejection out of my voice. I’m losing him. He couldn’t handle me telling him off, or maybe I’m just not cool enough. My tank top and skinny jeans are covering way more than those other girls he’s hanging out with.

He kisses me gently on the neck and my knees buckle. It’s just enough for me to remember how sweet he can be.

I’m still smiling from the kiss when I find Leyli in the crowd. I practically bounce over to her, but when I see she hasn't noticed me yet, I decide to sneak up on her. She's on her tiptoe craning her neck over the crowd.

“Boo!” I jump out at her.

“Are you drunk already?” She continues to peer over and doesn’t even look at me.

"What are you doing?" I ask her.

"Is that who I think it is?" She points to someone mostly obscured by the crowd.

My heart stops.

"Oh God! I really think it is him. Come on! Let's go talk to him. We can get his autograph. Maybe I can get him to sign somewhere... naughty." She winks at me.

I stay put. I can’t face him. I can’t face Ramtin. Not after what he did to me. But…What did he do to me?

Someone taps my shoulder and I jump.

This time, she looked even more like Nagissa. Her hair was now straight and fanned around her when she twirled to face me. She almost had the same grace. I hadn't noticed that the first time we talked. She’d seemed more awkward then.

"Hi, I'm Garnier," I gave her my hand.

"I know," she said.

Her wide eyes were lined in dark eyeliner making them look more cat-shaped. Her lips were glossed and poutier. My own lips tingled as I remembered wanting to kiss similar lips. Nagissa's... the idea of this girl’s lips wasn't entirely unpleasant right then either.

"Who is that?" I motioned to the throng of people she had been looking at.

"Ramtin." She spat out the name like it had a bad taste on her tongue. I wanted to ask her more about him, but this wasn’t the time. I had finally found him.

"Excuse me." I went to join the crowd.

Nakissa's friend recognized me and called me over to her side. "This is Ramtin." She almost purred out his name like a cat would. It seemed no one was indifferent to him.

I didn’t have a plan. After all the effort I made to find him, now I didn’t know how to proceed. Guillaume would say it’s just like me. But I’d thought I'd find him at some secret lair where everything would come together. Instead, he was exactly where I had been looking for him.

"Hey!" I called out to him.

He turned slowly and raised one eyebrow. Why did super-villains or really cool people always do that? Was it part of some obscure teaching I wasn't aware of? Wasn't I cool enough to raise one eyebrow?

"I know you." His voice betrayed no emotion.

"Last we met was in Montreal."

"Oh, right! One of Aude's little boyfriends. How is she doing?"

I faltered. She was still missing. My family was disappointed in me for not going back to look for her. I was disappointed in myself. After Guillaume had yelled at me over the telephone before I came here tonight, I’d been so annoyed with his self-righteousness. I thought I should stay here, maybe until I ran out of essence and turned to stone. Maybe forever. He’d said I was being selfish. But stopping everything to find one girl who benefits only us wasn’t selfish? He’d said nothing was as important as Aude. But everything couldn't rely on one girl, could it?

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