“I’ll take that as a yes,” Azad said. “Even though he didn’t bother to come.”
Marseille thought about that before responding. “You know, Azad, I try to believe the best of people. I know David has a good heart. I know he loved your mom. I know he loves your dad. If he could have been here, he would have been. Wild horses couldn’t have kept him away. Which means that something’s wrong, and to tell you the truth, I’m worried about him. Maybe you should be too.”
At that, Azad winced. “Maybe you’re right.”
“Maybe I am,” Marseille said in a whisper.
“Listen,” Azad said, “I know my dad will want to say good-bye to you. You’re flying back to Portland tomorrow, right?”
“Actually, later today.”
“The blizzard passed?”
“Enough to open the airport, at least.”
“Well, we’re going to miss you. But let me go upstairs and get Dad. He’ll feel terrible if he doesn’t give you a proper thank-you.”
“Okay.” Marseille really did want to see David’s father one more time, no matter how tired she felt.
“Actually, you know what would be really helpful?” Azad added just before he went upstairs. “That is, if you can stay a little bit longer. I know it’s late, but…”
“Sure, what do you need?” Marseille asked.
“I really hate to ask this, but we’ve been overwhelmed the past few days with condolence calls from family and friends — I’m sure you can imagine. Anyway, if you could just compile a quick list of those callers and maybe a summary of their messages, that would be a big help. Then Dad can eventually try to call them all back. It should only take a few minutes; do you mind?”
Marseille shrugged. “Sure.”
Azad gave her the phone number and passcode for their voice mail system. Then he thanked her and headed upstairs to find his father.
It was, in some ways, an odd request, and she felt a bit like she was spying on the family, but tired though she was, she did want to help them in any way she could, and if this was what they needed, then that was fine with her. She dried her hands, picked up the cordless phone, found a pad of paper and a ballpoint pen, and sat down at the kitchen table. She dialed, punched in the passcode, and began listening through the dozens of messages, taking careful notes of each, including the date and time they called.
Beep…
“Hello, Mohammad. Oh, my goodness — I’m so sad to hear your news. This is Rita McCourt, your old neighbor. Remember Larry and me? Oh, dear, I wish we could do something. Please call us. It’s Thursday night. We’re in Liverpool now, but we’d love to come by and see you. We’re free tomorrow and all this weekend. Anything you need. Just know you’re all in our thoughts. Will there be visiting hours? And when is the funeral? Larry and I would like to come to both. Okay, thanks — call us.”
Marseille felt bad for these folks. She didn’t know them, but the woman sounded sincere and obviously cared for the Shirazi family a great deal. Now Marseille wished Azad had given her this job sooner so she could have called these people back and made sure they got to the memorial service.
Beep…
“Dr. Shirazi? Hi, this is Linda — Linda Petrillo — the secretary at your old practice. Marge was just telling me that Nasreen is sick. Is that true? I can’t believe I hadn’t heard. Is she going to be okay? Are you okay? Do you need anything? I’d love to cook you a meal and bring it by. Please let me know if that would be okay. And have Nasreen call me. Here’s my number…”
Ouch. The poor woman didn’t even know Mrs. Shirazi had passed.
Beep…
“I can’t believe I didn’t get to say good-bye to Nasreen. This is Farah — her cousin Farah, you know, in Houston. I got an e-mail from Iryana in San Jose. She just heard the news too. Please call me back. It’s Friday morning. I hear the memorial service is going to be tomorrow. I so wish I could get there, but I don’t think I can make arrangements so quickly for my kids. But, oh, Mohammad, I am so, so sorry. I knew she was sick, but I had no idea she was so close to the end. Please get back to me as soon as you can. Best way to get me is probably on my cell. The number is…”
Marseille carefully wrote down the number and then, as she did with all the others, hit 9 to save the message and went on to the next. But when the next person began to speak, she heard a voice that gave her chills. It was David.
“Dad… oh, Lord… Dad, I just heard the news about Mom. I just got your e-mails and Nora’s. I can’t… I can’t believe Mom is really gone, and I’m so sorry that I’m not there. I can’t believe I’m so far away, and where I am and doing what I’m doing… I just want to be there with you, you know, to give you a hug and cry with you. I just… I don’t know what to say, and I don’t want to say it to a machine. You can’t call me back, of course, but I’ll try you again as soon as I possibly can. I don’t know when that will be yet. I’m not really supposed to make personal calls, but I’m sure they’ll make an exception. Of course they will. But anyway… Look, I’m safe… It’s hard, but I’m safe, so hopefully you’ll get this and know that I’m thinking about you and praying so much for you and Azad and Saeed. I’m so sorry, Dad, that I won’t be able to be there for the funeral. Please forgive me, and know that if there was any way I could be there, I absolutely would. And I hope you’ll be able to withstand all the people who think I’m a terrible son for not being there. I’m sure you’ll hear some awful comments about me. Just knowing that you understand and that you want me to do my job makes me feel a little better, but I still feel sick not being there… Guess I’d better go, but… I can’t believe she’s really gone. I pray that you’re okay and that you know I love you and that I loved Mom. Like I said, I’ll call again if I can. I love you, Dad. Bye.”
Marseille sat as still as a stone for several minutes, then hit 2 to replay the message and listened to David’s voice again. It was coming from so far away. She was flooded with a sudden longing to see David again, to sit next to him and get to know the man he had become. But as she listened to the message a second time, she heard something that puzzled her. David was grieved, yet he seemed to have a confidence that he hadn’t hurt his father and that indeed his father somehow understood his need to be away. He talked about being safe. That was a relief to her, but why would David’s father think he was in danger? And why did David say what he did about his father understanding? Did David’s father know what she knew? Did he know David worked for the CIA and was at that very moment inside Iran? How could he? Had David told him? Marseille’s heart raced. She hoped that was the case. She wanted Dr. Shirazi to know the truth and to be as proud of David as she was. She would love to be able to talk openly to Dr. Shirazi about his son. Maybe he knew more than she did. Maybe she could learn more about what David was doing and when he might be coming home.
Marseille was careful to save David’s message, but even though she had forty-three more messages to listen to, she knew she had to get this one to Dr. Shirazi right away. But how? It didn’t seem quite appropriate to go upstairs and knock on the man’s bedroom door. But she so wanted to tell him the good news.
And then, before she could make a decision of how best to proceed, Marseille began to weep. She did her best to stay quiet. She didn’t want to wake up Saeed or draw any attention to herself. She wasn’t even entirely sure why she was crying, but she couldn’t stop. It wasn’t sorrow, she told herself. It was mostly relief. But there was more to it, she knew.
She couldn’t think clearly. Something inside her had just broken loose, a dam of sorts bottling up complicated emotions long suppressed. She was embarrassed, crying here in the Shirazis’ kitchen. She was mortified by the possibility that Azad might find her like this. She didn’t want to have to explain herself. She didn’t even really know what she was feeling or why.