Things We Left Unsaid by Zoya Pirzad

Author:Zoya Pirzad [Pirzad, Zoya]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781780740843
Publisher: Oneworld Publications

26

My day began badly.

When Artoush asked, ‘Have you seen my glasses?’ I shot right back with, ‘Is there a big sign on my forehead that says “Bureau of Lost and Found”?’

I had no bread to make sandwiches for the kids’ recess snack. I gave the twins money to buy crackers, and their eyes lit up. ‘No chips or other junk food. Only crackers, and only after lunch.’ I tried to remember what the school cafeteria was serving for lunch that day, and whether it was a dish the children liked or not. I could not remember the lunch menu schedule, but I did remember what Nina would say. If I said something like, ‘They are serving lamb shanks today and the kids don’t like it,’ Nina would frown and reply, ‘If they don’t like it, tough. A child should learn to eat whatever is put in front of him.’ I smoothed out a wrinkle near the hem of Arsineh’s uniform, wondering if Nina might not be right.

Armen tucked the money in his pocket and left the house without saying goodbye. He had argued several times with the twins, had not spoken to me or his father, and had barely eaten anything since the day before. I could not work up the energy to lecture him about not leaving the school grounds again during recess to buy a snack. ‘Only Mama’s boys bring their snacks from home,’ the high-school-age boys would say. So, to prove their manhood, they would appoint one boy each day to sneak off the school premises and buy Lavash for everyone at the nearby bakery. God only knows how many times I had to go to the Principal’s office because Armen was the one who had slipped out. Each time he promised not to do it again, but he was a habitual offender.

I went out to the yard hand in hand with the twins. Halfway down the path, I gestured toward Armen, his back to us as he opened the gate. ‘Now what’s the matter with him?’

The twins looked at each other, then at me, and finally shrugged their shoulders. I asked, ‘Is it because Emily did not come over last night?’ This time they avoided looking at one another and tried not to laugh.

The school bus picked up the kids and headed off, the sound of the engine fading farther and farther away. I closed the gate, walked up the path, and came inside. I was about to close the front door and breathe a sigh of relief about being alone until the afternoon, when I heard the faint whirring of the Chevrolet’s ignition.

The Chevy’s failure to start was part of our daily ritual. Artoush would open the hood, engrossed in the old, and in places rusty, guts of the machine. Then he would play with some of the hoses, which connected something to something else (and I was fairly sure that Artoush did not know either). ‘It won’t start?’ I would ask Artoush, and he would say, ‘Hmmm.

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