6

    Several days passed. I did not return to the conservatory. My father reported to the dean’s office that I was ill. I had made up my mind not to go back and had even applied for a job at the tractor plant until the start of the next academic year. The head of personnel said I could start work the following week. I had learned how to use a lathe during extracurricular production work at secondary school. I did not tell my father about my applying for a factory job because I was afraid he would stop me.
    I spent those days at home reading. I was also teaching myself English, poring through elementary texts and noting all the words of vocabulary I didn’t know. I spoke the texts out loud and listened to lessons on the tape recorder my father had bought for me. I had several plans. I wanted to start with English and then learn French, too. Two languages are enough. Any more than that is a waste of time unless you are a linguist.
    While I was reading in my room, my mother came in and told me that Burhan wanted to talk to me.
    "Is he on the phone?" I asked.
    "No, he’s at the door," she replied.
    I ran out. He was standing in the doorway with an umbrella in his hand.
    "Hi, Burhan!"
    He entered slowly with his hand to his chin. He walked down the hall to my room silently and sombrely.
    He sat down in the armchair across from me.
    "What’s new at the conservatory?" I asked.
    "Nothing much. Have you decided to quit for good?"
    "Yes, I’ve made my decision, Burhan."
    He rubbed his forehead and crossed his legs.
    "Mira wanted to come but she couldn’t leave her father alone," Burhan added.
    "What, Mira’s father is in town?" I asked.
    He did not answer immediately. He looked over at the tape recorder on the table and at my English course.
    "You’re studying?" he asked.
    "A little bit," I replied.
    "The dean’s office asked him to come," said Burhan.
    "Why?"
    "It’s hard to explain. It’s a bit complicated. They want to expel Mira from the conservatory," stated Burhan.
    I jumped.
    "Expel her?"
    "It’s complicated, Arthur."
    "You already said that. Tell me what happened?" I shouted, upset at Burhan’s composure.
    "They say she’s a bad influence on the male students," he replied.
    I blushed. It was only with me that Mira was on more than just friendly terms.
    "What male students?"
    "You! They say she is responsible for your neglecting your studies and quitting the conservatory. Now they want to expel her to save you," explained Burhan.
    I jumped up angrily.
    "What a senseless sacrifice!" I said.
    He looked at me quizzically, so I explained:
    "They want to sacrifice someone else to save me? In history there is a story about a woman who sacrificed herself for an ideal. She was locked in behind four walls and sacrificed her happiness for the sake of her husband who was very talented. But it was at least her own choice. They want to sacrifice Mira for me and I don’t even have any talent. I am only the son of a director..."
    I went on at length, expounding ideas which had been pent up within me for a long time. Burhan listened patiently with his jaw resting in the palm of his hand.
    I thought of my father. There was another aspect to his move against Mira. He did not want me to marry her and raise a family without finishing my studies and having a professional career first. He saw my relationship with her as the prelude to marriage. To save me from throwing away my future, he would sacrifice Mira by separating us. The motives were complex indeed!
    "They called Mira’s father to tell him about his daughter," Burhan said. "He was devastated. Poor man, he was completely confused. At first they gave Mira a choice: stop seeing you or be expelled. Then they changed their minds and decided to expel her no matter what. Her father has come to take her home. What do you say?"
    Burhan studied me, waiting for me to reply.
    "They can’t do this to her! They can’t expel her!" I cried.
    "That’s what I thought too, but I am afraid they have, Arthur. Your father’s been to the dean’s office several times," he added.
    I was red with shame and rage. My fingers moved nervously back and forth over my knees.
    "So what do we do?" I said to Burhan.
    He was silent.
    I still did not want to hear anyone criticize my father. Burhan was my friend but I would not let even him speak badly of my father. Yet of course Burhan was right. It must have been my father who made them expel Mira from the conservatory. Only now did I begin to think about my father’s conversations and his criticism of her and of girls he considered a bad influence. But I did not want Burhan to discover the full truth.
    "Listen, Burhan. My father wouldn’t do a thing like that," I said, blushing at my own lie. I hoped he would not see through it. Would my father go that far? Would a man known at work for his honesty descend to such depths, I wondered, as Burhan, wise, kind Burhan, sat in front of me.
    "I have my doubts, Arthur. Don’t misunderstand me. I respect Mr Reufi, but he is the one responsible for this. He’s the only one in a position to apply that kind of pressure. He is a powerful person, Arthur, and is capable of doing it..." said Burhan thoughtfully.
    "Why are you so suspicious?" I broke in.
    He frowned. I realized that he was offended.
    "What do you mean ‘suspicious’? The future of an individual is at stake. Should we just look the other way?" he said slowly, containing his anger. I blushed. His words were convincing. More convincing than those of my father.
    "You have the right to believe whatever you want. Everyone does," I replied evasively.
    Burhan rose to his feet.
    "Don’t go yet," I pleaded.
    "I must go," he replied coldly. "Sorry to have bothered you. Go back to your books!" He picked up his umbrella and left without saying another word.
    Alone in my room, I realized what he meant. Someone’s future was being destroyed on my account and I was sitting here studying English. I should have run after him and gone to see Mira.
    I threw on my coat and rushed down the stairs. My mother called after me:
    "Arthur, where are you going?"
    I ran and ran.