Clash of cultures

​

Bahar was putting the dinner table. Her husband was late from work as usual. He moved from California to London for this amazing job as a CEO of a big software company, however, it proved to be demanding. When he first arrived, he needed a cheap place at first and rented the flat she was offering. She was Iranian, but her family lived in London for the last twenty years. It was obvious that he was smitten with her looks, but when he got to know her, coffee, dinner, walk in the park at a time, he figured out she could not look at another woman anymore and soon they were married. Five years took their toll, and now they were in an uneventful, unexciting relationship, where they felt comfortable with each other, but the passion has worn out. She was not happy with this course of their marriage and was looking for a way to challenge him, to revive the attraction, to get rid of being taken for granted feeling. That proved to be hard too. She had her sense of humour, her defiant nature, but with him, her timidity spoiled the expression of her naughty side. But tonight, tonight she had something in mind. 
“Darling, the dinner better be ready, I was a killer at work.” Shouted the sucker from the threshold. Look who’s back, and unsuspecting what kind of dinner was waiting for him. Her secret weapon, the tablet, was on the table, and she was not afraid to use it this time. The page opened was Iranian/American relations. 
“How was your day, darling?” Managed to ask he, in between bites. 
“Some nuisance in the shop. The new boy kept making wrong orders. Nothing major, we had to replace a few kebaps, lamb for chicken, chicken for lamb.” Bahar was reading an article and was talking absent-mindedly. 
“What you reading?” 
“Just the news. You voted for Trump, right?”
“Oh, yes. “
“I guess there was no bigger weirdo there at the time.”
“He is flamboyant, but I am not sure you are using the word weirdo properly.”
“Ok, clown them?”
“Noo, cannot relate either. Why, how he managed to make you red with anger?”
“His latest statements. Obviously, Iran is playing with fire for exceeding a limit on enriched uranium reserves under a 2015 nuclear deal.”
“Seriously?”
“Are you mocking me?”
“I read the article and the answer of your foreign minister was “Seriously?” Who is mocking who, I ask.”
“What another answer is appropriate to this cocky, disrespectful tone?”
“Speaking of disrespectful, didn’t Iran call Trump weird? What was that all about?”
“Haven't you seen how he acts with the world leaders? Poor Macron, and the Queen, honestly, I am speechless. “
“The man is simply warm and opened.”
“Ha ha. It is uncomfortable to be around him and  it is uncomfortable to watch him with people!”
“What’s got into you tonight! Can we change the subject, please?”
They ate for a while in silence. She was content to notice his long face, at least the indifference was gone. A vane was visibly throbbing at his temple. 
“And his hair!”
“Would you stop it, please?”
“Have you seen his hair!”
“Look, you do not choose a president for his hair, but for the decisions, he is able to make, tough decisions. Give me that!”
He took the tablet, not bothered that it was very rude, and stuck his nose in it. 
“Here! Crazy Trump and his confused administration, that from a Tehran official! I mean, honestly!”
“Face it, you are governed by a freaking psycho.” His face turned red, and she was glad to see how his teeth clenched. “It is hot in here. Do you want some water?” She unbuttoned her shirt. 
“No, I don’t want your freaking water. Enjoy. Calling Trump a psycho. Because in your freaking country if you call the president crazy, you are facing some nasty time in Evin. And if you dare to criticize your government,t you are a goner. But Trump respects the sovereignty of the other countries, they are inviolable, and yet, the Tehran officials use it, and at the same time, violate the freedom of expression for their own people, setting a wrong example, and punishing for following it.”
“What wrong example, we are simply sincere.”
“Well, show some respect. And when some poor blogger in Tehran sincerely criticizes the government for not helping the people during the floods, or not working on the water infrastructure, or the preparedness for earthquakes, well, listen, do not drag him to Evin. What are you doing?”
“I am boiling. I am taking my shirt off.”
She in her cami top was a brutal sight and she knew it. He couldn’t stop staring but was still distant. 
“Respect! To someone who uses the language of nightclubs and gambling halls to threaten us. Seriously?”
“You are crazy! Iran’s behaviour around the region is malicious and you know it!”
“Oh, your president likes to play with the lion’s tail, because he is not going to fight that war, his people will suffer the consequences of his contradictive policies. And by the way, many Americans have relatives in Iran, do you know how we feel when we read his rants.”
“If Iran doesn’t come to his senses, Trump will bring it to its official end. Face it!”
“Oh, really?” she got close to him. 
“Mark my words.”
She kissed him on the neck. 
“I don’t think Iranians are that easy to handle.”
Finally! That amused spark in his eyes reminded her of their early years as a married couple that could not keep their hands away from each other. 
“Do you want me to demonstrate to you?”
“You can try your best, but I will be on the top.”
“Baby, you will be in every position I can imagine.”
He lifted her in the air and drag her into the bedroom, after all, it is true that every problem can be fixed in bed, thought Bahar.