Kiss me, Farewell

part one – Mahrokh (Mimi) Pourzynal

I looked at my reflection in the mirror. Surprisingly, I couldn’t recognize myself. How much I’d changed. It amazed me. I compared myself with how I was before. Now the past was sitting before me so vivid, bright and clear. I felt I was still living in it. With admiration, I looked through myself, my whole self, the way I was. I looked, I thought, and finally at the way I behaved then and responding now toward others. I had such a nonsense trust in everyone around me. I wondered why?

What happened to me? How and why did those changes come about? Who taught me to learn my lesson so well? I realized that I was the one who should be blamed for my shortcomings, the one who was responsible for obeying blindly, for such a faith and trust I had for even total strangers

Now, I know why they say, “We need two lives to live, one to experiment and the other one, to use the experimentation.” I experimented, through the true story of. “Kiss Me Farewell”

“Kiss Me Farewell,” that incident still off and on, bugs my memory. It was one of those odd, strange and unforgettable incidents which one couldn’t easily erase from the mind. Especially when the matter of surviving is involved, when there is no choice but to surrender. In such a situation, I had no clue of knowing what to do, but to stay calm and cool. I learned this through the training in the Department of Social Services of Baltimore City how to survive like the firemen who survive in the flames of furnaces. Otherwise, who will discover how or why the people disappear or vanish, from the face of earth, but Sherlock Holmes?

No doubt, being young and immature, with no sense of recognition of the people whom I trusted so blindly regardless of their color, race, religion and national origins, was the main cause of my failure, which finally victimized me.

I recall, due to my status problem with the Immigration Office, I had to resign from my position as a Social Worker Assistant in Baltimore to return to my favorite city D.C. to solve the problem. My supervisor promised to rehire me if and when the Immigration Office clear my status.

Let me to escape all the miseries, which fell upon me on the road to my destination, Washington D. C.. The shortest way to Washington was the Washington-Baltimore Parkway, which was approximately forty-five miles. It was late October in the afternoon when I hit the road with a bad cold and running nose. The thunderstorms and slippery roads also added to my problems and good luck

Finally, I found myself on M Street at Georgetown, the most crowded area, especially on a Saturday night in D. C.. I found a parking place on one of the side streets and parked.

At first, I pulled the window (next to my seat) down. Then, I closed it up to rest for a while and I fell into a deep sleep When I woke up it was quite late, but, the trace of daylight was there.

I looked into the mirror, combed my hair. Then I put some lipstick on. After I locked the doors, and closed the windows of my car I walked to the main street of Wisconsin Avenue to find a cafe or a restaurant. I was quite hungry and needed a bowl of hot soup to relieve my bad cold.

That’s it, the” Fountain Cafeteria.” I knew that place very well. So often I had breakfast and lunch there when I used to work in a woman’s fashion boutique “Lustrega” which means, the “Witch”. Its owner indeed looked like a witch and claimed that she was .Anyhow, I walked in the cafeteria and looked for a seat to sit down.

Finally. I got one of those red revolving chairs of the cafeteria to sit, and ordered a cup of split pea soup. The waitress got the order and disappeared. The water from my nose was dripping down over my lips, like rain which runs into the rain sprout. Embarrassingly. I reached for the napkin to blow my nose. Someone next to me tried to hand it to me. I turned around to see who it was, to say “thank you”. Oh! God, for bid I see that face again for what I saw was shocking!

I felt dizzy. The whole blood circulation of my body jumped into my head, and I became cold as a dead body. When I revived, I was afraid of opening my eyes up to his face again.

Could it be him? Had I seen those cruel and keen eyes before? Wasn’t that ugly face familiar? I flashed back, to fifteen years ago to an incident that happened before my own eyes, I remembered the exact date.

It was the summer of 1967 when my sister called to give me the good news of her employment. She was hired as a registered nurse at the OB section of City Hospital in Baltimore City. She joyfully added, you’ve got to move here too, your application has been approved as a Social Worker Assistant, in the Children’s Division, congratulations!”

At that time, I was working for my Masters at the American University, Department. of Psychology. It was summer and I decided to take the job. Baltimore was a wild old town in comparison to D.C., which never appealed to me. I gathered all of my belonging, which could fit in my small VW and headed to Baltimore, and started to live and work there.

A few days later our classes started. At the beginning, due to the language barrier, I had hard time keeping up with other students, but fortunately I was able to catch up with the others and succeeded. Eventually all the adventures on the highways, getting lost on the roads of the field trips or running into pathways to escape the accidents, became second nature to me.

Our instructors in a short time, were trying to teach us everything that they packaged for us with their heavy case loads and expected to make experts out of us in a wink. We learned everything about foster homes, foster parents, foster children, home evaluation, child care, giving psychological tests, or how to deal with addicts, alcoholics, mental disease, poverty, prostitution, crime and so forth.

The time was rolling on. Summer was almost over. I studied and completed the forty cases – loads successfully. But regretfully, as I mentioned earlier, due to my visa problem, I had to resign my position, with the hope of getting it back as soon as I solved the problem with the Immigration Office. I accepted their offer and headed home to broadcast the news to my sister.

When I got home, I changed my mind and decided to hide the news in my chest, regardless of how much it could hurt me. The following morning was bright and sunny. Then all of the sudden it turned to be as dark as my world, when my sister Cible entered in my room, crying, “It’s over, it’s all over.” What’s over?” I asked. “Everything every thing in my life, I’m going to California.” “What happened?,” I asked. “What else did you expect happen?,” she said. “That bastard, Nader married the girl in his university. I’ve got to run a way as far as possible. I’d hate to see his ugly face again.”

How strong one could be not to break down with all of those piled up problems? I guess some kind of power was holding us up. She started to pack and over a night flew to the fresher air of California, not knowing what happened to me, and a word about my resignation. She loaded me, as usual, with her problems and put her naughty little boy Tony on my shoulders

I didn’t realize, how long my mind was occupied with this incident that happened years ago until I heard the waitress say, “Your soup is getting cold. How long do you wish to sit here and think? It is three past ten. We are closing. Would you please pay your bill!”

“Oh, I am so sorry, I was in another world. Here it is.” I said.

I paid the bill, yen looked to see if he was still there. The cafeteria was empty. He was about to leave with a young beauty with blond hair. I got my bag, sharpened my ears and opened up wide the eyes of my confused mind. I could hear his voice.

“Where did you park your car?” he asked. “It’s there, at the corner, it is the red car.” she replied. I could hardly see or read her plate number under the dim light of the street. Then I saw nothing but heard their foot steps, which were disappearing into noisy Georgetown.

“Did they just meet in this Cafeteria?” I asked myself. The sense of curiosity was killing me. I felt so desperate to know whether or not he was the same man that I thought he was. I have no doubt at all I knew why the sight of even a glance of his face terrified me. I knew what caused the chills to run through me. His resemblance revived the past before my eyes once more.

I flashed back, to late October 1967. The night was young and was rolling in slow motion. The trees were whispering with the wind and the silence was in rull, at the noose of the darkness. I clearly remember that night. I decided, to go to bed early in order to wake up early before traffic. I was worried about my job interview. After I read few pages of (Abnormal Psychology) my text book my eyelids fell closed gently. The world of reality and awareness was replaced by the dream world of abstract and unreality.

The next morning as I intended I woke up early. The morning sun was tiptoeing over the window pane. I wanted to be on time for my interview, so I dressed fast and rushed to get out without breakfast. I was headed to the Freedman Hospital. I had no idea where it was. The advertisement in the Washington Post only printed the announcement of the opening position in the Unit of Psychology. I got a map to find the direction. There is a proverb saying “one may eventually reach to mecca by asking” I found mine in two hours. After I returned to D. C .the first thing I had to do was solve my problem with the Office of Immigration and I did it I obtained their statement of confirmation in my case and the Green Card, which I would receive soon. That was a great relief. The second problem was to seek a place to live for a while. I stayed in The International Student House in Connecticut Avenue. I thought it was expensive even with breakfast and dinner for someone like me who is unemployed and has no sources of income except for a small savings. So, I moved from one motel to another and faced all kinds of problems such as a rape attempt. Lucky me I was able to rescue myself from all kinds of dangers after all. I trapped in to my own negligence. I don’t remember what kind of a day it was on that day was that day, sunny or gloomy. Perhaps it made no difference. I called, my Avon Lady to get help She was a kind and open minded lady. After I told her about my problem she talked about her cousin who became rich by marrying a wealthy Italian man the same day, she introduced me to them.

With opened arms they welcomed me, I agreed to rent their daughter’s beautiful room, which was furnished in pink. She recently married and moved to Texas. That is why they were overwhelmed to have me for filling her empty spaces. The house was beautifully furnished. The beautiful blue tiled swimming pool, which was shimmering under the ray of the sun, added to its beauty. I felt I was the luckiest person in the whole world? How long would this sunny day last, I wondered?

The man of the house used to smoke in the washroom but his wife was against it. It was quite late that evening when, I reached home from school and grocery shopping. The outside light was on as usual, but I noticed the whole house was in absolute darkness I was about to come out of the car when I noticed a shadowy figure moving towards my car. After I screamed. I heard I heard my landlords voice saying, “ Don’t be afraid. It’s me. Come out hold my arm and walk with me. I walked with him and then asked him what was going . He told me to hush so not to wake up the neighbors. “You’ll find out soon.” Under the flashlight I could only see, charcoal, charcoal, charcoal, scattered everywhere, the whole house turned into ashes. I stayed with this couple in a hotel for two month, then I got my own place. All my belongings also burned except for my documents. All the offered me (with the excuse of not being covered in their insurances was a hair dryer. How did I survive? Sometimes I wonder. The advice’s of my late father always echoed in my ears Living is hard, so, live and cope with its hardship, or die now. What other choice did I have but to live and cope with the hardship. That’s what I have done anyway to go along with the life and living. My next step was seeking employment in Washington and ended up at the Freedman Hospital, which was the next mission that the hands of so called “Destiny” were molding for me.

(to be continued)