It was a quiet evening at home. Arash sat cross-legged on the living room carpet, building an elaborate fort out of dominoes while his father flipped through the newspaper. His mother was in the kitchen, humming softly as she prepared dinner, and his older brother, Saeed, was sprawled on the couch, scrolling through his phone with the expression of someone enduring great boredom.
The quiet was broken when Arash’s younger cousin, Mina, ran past the room, giggling as her mother called after her. Mina had been visiting for a few days, and her presence had been a peculiar phenomenon in the house. Though she was only six years old, she belonged to the "other side," the mysterious world of girls, and her occasional intrusion into Arash’s boy-dominated universe always caused a ripple of awkwardness.
As Mina dashed by, Arash found himself pondering a question that had been bubbling in his mind for weeks. He hesitated, unsure whether it was a “safe” question, but his curiosity finally won out.
“Baba,” he began cautiously, addressing his father, “why don’t we talk to girls?”
The room fell silent. His father’s newspaper froze mid-flip, his mother’s humming cut off abruptly, and Saeed’s phone fell from his hands onto the couch. Even Mina, who had been running laps around the coffee table, paused to stare at him as if he’d just asked why the sky was green.
“What did you say?” his father asked, lowering the newspaper slowly. His tone wasn’t angry, but it carried the weight of a question one doesn’t simply ask.
Arash gulped. “I mean… at school. Why don’t we have classes with girls? Or… you know… talk to them?”
His father exchanged a glance with his mother, who was now peering out of the kitchen doorway like she’d overheard a scandal. Saeed, ever the opportunist, smirked and leaned forward.
“This should be good,” Saeed muttered under his breath.
“Well, Arash,” his father began, carefully folding the newspaper and setting it aside, “there are rules in society. Good rules. Rules that keep things… proper. Boys and girls are different, you see. It’s better for everyone if we stay in our own spaces.”
“But why?” Arash pressed, his tone innocent but persistent. “I mean, what would happen if we didn’t?”
His father looked as if he’d been asked to explain quantum physics without a textbook. “What would happen? Uh… well… things would get… complicated.”
“Complicated how?” Arash tilted his head, genuinely curious.
“Complicated like chaos!” his mother interjected, stepping fully into the room now, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “Do you know what happens when boys and girls mix too much? Feelings! That’s what happens. And feelings can be very… dangerous.”
“Dangerous feelings?” Arash echoed, perplexed. “Like… anger?”
“Worse,” Saeed said, smirking. “Love.”
Arash frowned. “But isn’t love a good thing?”
“Not when you’re too young for it,” his mother said firmly. “You need to focus on your studies, not waste your time on silly things.”
Arash glanced at Saeed, who was struggling not to laugh. “But Saeed talks to girls all the time,” he pointed out.
Saeed froze, his smirk vanishing instantly. “What? No, I don’t.”
“Yes, you do,” Arash insisted. “I’ve seen you on your phone, smiling at texts. And you called someone ‘Hey, bro’ but it was in a girly voice.”
His father’s eyebrows shot up, and his mother turned on Saeed like a hawk spotting prey. “Is this true, Saeed?”
“What? No! He’s making it up!” Saeed spluttered, throwing a betrayed look at Arash. “I’m just… networking. For school. It’s academic!”
“Hmm,” his mother said, her tone laced with suspicion. She pointed at him with the dish towel. “We’ll discuss this later.”
Saeed sank back into the couch, muttering, “Thanks a lot, genius.”
Arash turned back to his father. “So… is it bad to talk to girls, or just dangerous?”
“It’s not bad,” his father said cautiously. “It’s… unnecessary. Boys and girls have different roles in life. It’s better to focus on your own path.”
Arash nodded slowly, though he wasn’t convinced. “But what if I have a question only a girl can answer? Like about… girl stuff?”
His mother gasped. “What kind of question are you thinking of, young man?”
“I don’t know,” Arash said, shrugging. “Like why Mina likes her doll so much. Or why girls wear those weird hairclips with the fake flowers on them.”
Mina, who had been silently observing the conversation, chimed in with a matter-of-fact tone. “Because they’re pretty.”
“See?” Arash said, gesturing to Mina. “I just learned something! How is that bad?”
His mother opened her mouth to respond but hesitated. His father scratched his chin, searching for a counterargument. Saeed, however, seized the moment to declare, “Because girls are weird, that’s why.”
Mina stuck out her tongue at him. “Boys are weirder!”
“Enough!” their mother said, clapping her hands. “Mina, go help me set the table. Arash, stop asking silly questions and focus on your dominoes.”
Arash sighed as the conversation ended, leaving him with more questions than answers. Why was it so taboo to talk about girls? Why were they treated like an entirely different species? The more he thought about it, the more it seemed like an invisible wall had been built between boys and girls, and nobody could explain why it was there—or what would happen if someone tried to climb over it.
As he went to bed that night, Arash stared at the ceiling, his mind spinning. Maybe, just maybe, the grown-ups didn’t have all the answers. And maybe it was up to him to find them.