The Persian Helmet
Chapter 26: Enter Adeleh
Clare managed to get some work done before lunch, when she found Clench in the café. She realized that she hadn’t seen or talked to him for a day but it seemed like ages. This is getting bad, she told herself.
He already knew about the fake feds, and she told him about her conversation with Jennifer.
“So you’re going into the rug trade?”
“No. I’ll sell her rugs if I get them, but then it’s back to Sears rugs. Although I haven’t actually ordered any so far. I’ll have to look into them.”
“It looks like Ali will be locked up for a while. There won’t be any bail until the feds investigate. He’ll be moved to a federal facility. We’re not really set up for long-term care.”
“Can they do that? Keep him locked up on a minor assault charge?”
“Yes. For one thing, we learned that when Ali made his phone call, he didn’t call a lawyer, he called some number that probably brought those two guys in suits down here. We don’t know who they are or if that’s who he called, but that’s enough to tie things up for a while. So he didn’t call a lawyer, but maybe they’ll send a lawyer for him, but he didn’t call one or ask for one. They didn’t go visit him while they were there so it didn’t do him much good. Anyway, the thing about the law is, let’s say he has a right to be released on bail. I’m guessing his mother won’t put up the bail but someone probably would. But while everyone’s trying to figure out what’s legal, time moves on and he gets moved around but not released. For example, that poor SOB who made that video that they blamed Benghazi on is still in prison.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah, things are more fluid than you would think. Sometimes it helps and sometimes it doesn’t.”
“So that means sometimes I get to be hopeful and sometimes I get to be cynical?”
“Yes, that’s so.”
“But Ali will be locked up for a while. I wish I knew for how long. You know, I’ve never talked to him. It might be pointless, but I’d like to talk to him. Would I be allowed to, while you’ve got him?”
“You could ask the sheriff. Or I could when I go back after lunch. When do you want to talk to him?”
“Well, as soon as possible, I guess, because he could be taken out of town any time.”
“OK, you just go back with me and ask the sheriff.”
Sheriff Matheson had no objections, though he said Ali was complaining that he needed a prayer rug and a Koran.
“I told him he could use the blanket, and figure out which direction to point, and he should have been carrying his own Koran. I told him a Christian criminal wouldn’t go anywhere without his Bible. Ha ha! But talk to him if you want to. There’s no special room, you’ll just have to stand outside the cell, or get a chair if you want. But out of arm’s reach. I’ll keep the outer door open so it’s not going to be exactly a private conversation.”
“That’s OK.”
Clare expected an angry, sulky teenager and that’s what she got.
“Hello, Ali. You know who I am, don’t you?”
He looked at her.
“You’re the one who stole my helmet,” he practically growled.
“I didn’t steal it. Let’s be clear about the law. It was in the trash pick-up, and it’s common and not illegal for people to take things from the trash. Furthermore, legally it belonged to your mother.”
“Everything is not about the law.”
“That’s true. But your mother had reason not to want it around, you know.”
“I am the man of the house now.”
“It doesn’t necessarily work that way in America. We respect our elders, for one thing.”
Clare wondered where these words came from. Her grandparents? Suddenly these old truisms were solid truths in her mind and heart.
“Elders are not always right.”
“Yeah, but you definitely aren’t right. Attacking your mother that way in Starbucks. Shame!” Clare was feeling more and more like one of her grandparents. Or maybe Aunt Del was speaking through her, though she hadn’t been around Del enough to see situations that would have called on Del to put her foot down with young’ns, as she called them.
“She was bringing shame to our family!”
“Shame only comes from what you do and say yourself. What comes out of you.”
Something else echoed in the back of Clare’s mind, about what comes out of the mouth that defiles a man. Where did that come from?
“Anyway, I’ve moved the helmet someplace safe, far away. You’d best rethink whatever you might be planning about the helmet, and about imitating your father.”
“My father was a hero.”
“Not in my book.”
“The book of an infidel whore!”
Clare forgot why she wanted to talk to this boy. She reminded herself that he was a man, not a boy, and dangerous.
“Did you call those two men who came to my store this morning pretending to be feds? Who were they?”
Before Ali could reply, the sheriff walked in and Clare assumed he was going to say her time was up. Instead he ushered in a young girl. She looked about 15, a thin, pretty girl who looked nervous. Adeleh was dressed as a typical American girl, no hijab. She had with somewhat Semitic features and blonde hair.
“Adeleh!” Ali said. “What are you doing here? Where have you been?”
“I came to see you. I read about what happened.”
“Did you go home? Are you coming home? Did you see Mom?”
“No. I just came to see you. You’re locked up.”
“Yes, these dogs locked me up. Can you help me?”
“Do you have a lawyer?”
“No. Not yet.”
“Did you call one?”
“No.”
“Well, I can’t help you. Unless you want me to bring you some food or clothes.”
“Yes. I don’t know how long I’ll be in this pigsty.”
Adeleh looked around. The cell was actually fairly clean and decent, though not comfortable.
“When can you come back and bring me clothes and something to eat that’s halal?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Call first. Maybe I won’t be here.”
“OK, I will.”
She left without trying to give her brother a kiss or a pat through the bars. Maybe the sheriff had told her to keep her distance also. Maybe the girl didn’t want to get that close. Clare wouldn’t put him past grabbing someone for a hostage. She ran out after the girl.
“Adeleh, could I speak to you? I know your mother.”
The girl stared at her then nodded. They walked out past the sheriff and Clench.
“Have you eaten? Can I buy you something to eat?”
“I am hungry.”
So it was back to the Greenline Café.
“You could take Ali something from here before you go get his clothes.”
“He wants something halal. That means permissible under Islamic rules. I will bring him some clean clothes but I don’t care whether he follows Sharia rules or not, so I won’t bring him food. He can eat what’s put in front of him.”
The girl had a faint twinge of an Appalachian accent, which made Clare think she was hiding out with relatives of her mother someplace in the mountains. It was easy to pick up little tricks of speech quickly, especially when you wanted to fit in a new place. Eat what’s in front of you was definitely a rule of Appalachian families.
“I met your mother because I wanted to know about the helmet after Ali tried to steal it twice. Do you know about that?”
“Yes, she told me all about it.”
“I know about her sending you away after your father died, and about Ali trying to … boss you around. Were you in Akron earlier today?”
“No. I … my mom sent me to live with some relatives out of state. When I heard Ali was in jail I drove up because I
want to see her, but I thought I could see Ali on the way. As long as he’s locked up. I miss my mother. I can’t stay there though. I don’t know how long he’ll be locked up. I’m worried about her too.”
“Naturally.”
“In fact I’m not even going to our house. We’re going to meet somewhere else, not even in Akron. And then I throw away my cell phone and buy a new one. I’m telling you because my mother said she trusts you, and you’re the only person she’s talked to about … everything. But I don’t trust Ali’s friends from the mosque. I don’t want to see anybody we know. It’s not just Ali. I was scared before when my father wanted to arrange a marriage for me with someone from Iran, someone I didn’t know. An older man. Ali wants the same thing.”
“Are you … Muslim?”
“Ali and I were Muslim since birth, you might say. But I’m out.”
“That’s dangerous, isn’t it?”
“Oh yeah. I mean, maybe I’d like it as a religion if I knew anything about it, like the theology, but I don’t want them telling me who I have to marry, and making me wear the hijab, and all that. I haven’t read the Koran, I’ve just heard it read in Arabic, which I never learned. I loved my dad, until I turned 13 and he started thinking about marrying me off. Everything changed, and he and my mom started having arguments. You could say Ali is going our father’s way and I’m going my mother’s way. Which is easier now.”
Clare knew the usual “all married couples fight” wouldn’t work here. Their disagreements were not apt to be solved by counseling.
“Well, I suggest you get on the road and meet with your mother. Here’s my phone number. Call me or text if I can help. And don’t forget, you can always call 911.”
“Thank you.”
“And if you decide you don’t want to see Ali tomorrow, I can take the clothes to him.”
“OK.” The girl seemed to be relieved at this. She ate quickly then drove away.