Cemal tried hard to keep his father out of his thoughts. Since he had not fulfilled his father’s commands, he could neither write him a letter nor telephone home to ask news of him. Only after he had solved the problem of what to do with the girl would he be able to contact him, yet he had no idea of how to go about finding a solution.
Meryem leaned against the window absentmindedly. She was exhausted from having so many emotions. She was drained of strength and fearful that she would become ill as she had on the train. Her monthly bleeding had stopped and, thanks to the sanitary napkins Seher had given her, the arrival of her next period was not a frightening thought anymore. She only wondered how she would find new pads. Seher had said they were sold in pharmacies, but how could Meryem buy them? She did not have any money. She wondered what Seher was doing now. Had her brother died, or was he still alive?
Only the rather elderly women on the bus had their heads covered; in fact, not only did the young girls have their hair loose, they also wore hip-hugging blue jeans. Their sleeveless pink, blue, or orange blouses were tight across their breasts, of which glimpses were revealed when they bent forward, yet they did not seem to mind. They wore earrings in their ears, bracelets on their wrists, and thin gold necklaces around their necks. Some of the pendants on the necklaces were shaped like hearts. Perhaps there were photos of their sweethearts inside. They talked, giggled, and laughed loudly, and a few of them even smoked when the bus stopped at a rest area.
Meryem felt miserable in the presence of these girls. Nazik had washed her blue cotton dress, but the blue flower print had faded even more. Although she had washed her black plastic shoes in the fountain in Rahmanlı, they were muddy, as was the long skirt wrapping itself around her legs.
Each time she looked at those black shoes, she remembered that cursed day she had been sent away from the village. Maybe because she always looked at the ground, she had not been able to take her eyes off her shoes. Her thick socks also looked awful, but none of these things disturbed her more than the scarf covering her head. Her headscarf had not bothered her in the village, but the village was in the middle of nowhere. Wearing a scarf here made Meryem feel foolish. The weather was getting warmer, and her feet were sweating in her woollen socks. She could not breathe in these clothes.
Cemal still did not talk to her even though he dragged her behind him like a puppy from one place to another. In the morning, he and another man had come to Rahmanlı to pick her up. Then they had gone to the bus terminal. After living in the village and walking only between her home and the poplar grove all her life, she had, in a single week, seen so many buses, garages, stations, boats, cars, and people that nothing astonished her anymore. All she wanted was to know where she was going.
When they first boarded the bus, she had thought that they were returning to the village, but after listening to the bus driver’s announcements and conversations between passengers, she realized that they were heading for a completely different place.
She did not know the geography of Turkey. She had no idea where the southeast was or the Black Sea region, or the Aegean. She was the girl who thought Istanbul was behind the hill outside the village. If she had considered the matter carefully, she would have realized that the big city could not be that close. But nobody had talked to her. She had always been pushed into her own solitary world of dreams. Her head had been full of fantasies: eker Baba’s miracles, Armenians flying in the air, and weeping nightingales perching on the strings whenever the Armenian musician Bogod played the zither.
Meryem was an unlucky girl. She had caused her mother to die and brought many misfortunes upon her family. Her friends had stopped playing with her after they had grown up. She had been ostracized. No one had wanted to make her a part of his family. She had waved good-bye to her dreams of marriage and a family of her own. Whenever she had some spare time after finishing the housework, she used to go to the poplar grove and daydream. “I’m so ignorant,” she lamented to herself. “How ignorant I am beside these girls who know so much!”
Still, she did not allow self-pity to overcome her. She relied on her ability, since childhood, to chase away bad memories. She did not ponder on all the evil done to her in the village; nor did she recall the fear she had felt on the viaduct. Her mind did not return to the past, and an inner strength blanked out her fears and sorrows.
The only bad memory she could not erase was that of her aunt making her cry in front of the locked door, as well as the shame she had felt returning to say good-bye as she walked down the muddy road in the village. Her black plastic shoes reminded her of those incidents.
Meryem was ready to forget the memories and begin a new life, but as she knew nothing about her future, she was unable to daydream about it.
Cemal did not say a word, not even about where they were going. Was he taking her somewhere to finish her off for good? Would he fulfill his task at the seaside? Deep inside, Meryem felt that this would not happen. She was sure that Cemal would not try to kill her again. When she had seen him on the bridge, bowed down with shame, beaten and dejected in the drizzling rain, she had known that she would go on living. But what if this were no longer true? She could not prevent doubt from poisoning her mind now and then.
Meryem marveled at how fast she had gotten used to the good things in life. She had been eating and drinking in the company of men for an entire week without feeling embarrassed. Since the day of her puberty, she had been told that women must not eat, drink, go to the toilet, or even talk when men were present. Yet now, she sat across from Cemal and devoured her soup among strangers. When Cemal went to the men’s room next to the gasoline stations, she went to the ladies’ room. She almost believed that she had lived like this all her life. She would feel much better if she could get rid of the scarf around her head, but she did not dare take it off. Cemal would probably hit her with his hammer of a hand and cause her other cheek to swell, too.
As the bus drove along the coast, they passed many cities, towns, and summer resorts, and finally they arrived at their destination, a small coastal town. There, girls were running around half-naked, some in bathing suits and others in shorts. Meryem was stunned. Proud of their womanhood, these women walked freely, their shorts revealing their sunburned legs, letting their long, beautiful hair fall around their shoulders. Meryem looked at them in amazement.
For the first time, she regarded the young men with interest—their slender bodies and charming smiles; the way they hugged the girls and drank Coke from the same bottle; she found their bare, tanned, muscular arms and their lithe movements attractive. In her village, she would not even think of raising her eyes to meet a man’s, let alone gaze at them as she was doing now. Besides, the men in the village did not look like these young men. Meryem had discovered a new and completely different world.
The scent of spring mixed with those of perfume and suntan lotion wafting from the passersby. On one corner, a group of giggling girls and boys were eating ice cream. At that moment, Meryem felt like a real woman, even though she was wearing shabby clothes and muddy plastic shoes. She wanted to be near those boys. Oddly, she did not feel ashamed of her desire. This young girl, who had till now been called ill-starred, stupid, and sinful just because she was female, had changed in this climate. She let the desires of spring possess her body. Even the “sinful place” between her legs did not seem so dreadful, because she realized that the girls here were not ashamed of their “sinful places.”
Unfortunately, Meryem’s hopes of staying in the town were dashed as, after asking many times for directions, they found a man in a shop who took them to his white rowboat. Climbing into this, they left the land and rowed for nearly an hour under the hot sun, watching the glittering shore.
Having played in the lake during her childhood, Meryem was not afraid of water. The sea did look very different, but it was just water, too. And after all the experiences she had been through, little could disturb her now.
The hut Meryem saw on the d
istant beach had no meaning for her, but as they drew nearer to the land, she could not help thinking that they had come to an awful place. In fact, they had arrived at a heavenly cove, where emerald green trees swept down to the enchanting sea. But the hut was a ruin.
When they went ashore, Meryem studied her surroundings in gloomy silence. The hut was filthy and smelled foul. The walls were patched with rusted tinplate or sheets of plastic here and there. Dirty baskets and bags made of reeds hung from the low ceiling. The whole place was oppressive. The bed in the corner was covered with a dirty piece of cloth. Meryem was used to having clothes washed in boiling water in a cauldron. The sheets at home were washed by scrubbing them with bleach and rinsing them in several changes of water. The floorboards were scrubbed with a wire brush and soft soap until they shone. Meryem felt like vomiting. The people in her village not only cleaned their houses thoroughly but also cleansed their bodies with hot water, soap, and sponge until their skins turned red. For the last few weeks, Meryem had been covered with dust and dirt, and the thought of her body made her feel sick. She had not been able to get rid of her body hair, either. If the women in the village knew about that, it would have certainly been considered a great sin.
The man who brought them there explained to Cemal how to feed and care for the fish and how to guard them from every danger. Then he left. Meryem did not understand what they were doing in this place, or how they would be able to live in that hut. Behind the hut, toward the forest, a small hole had been dug and covered with reeds. The stench emanating from that direction and flies buzzing over the hole indicated that it was the toilet.
It was almost evening when they arrived. Meryem sat by the water and lost herself in the beauty of the cove, of the pine trees on the opposite shore, and the intoxicating scents of spring. The air smelled of rose geranium, jasmine, cherry laurel, and pine needles. The pine trees themselves were reflected in the water. Seashells and shiny, colorful pebbles glittered like jewels beneath the surface. Meryem could not take her eyes off their varied and speckled hues of green, red, brown, purple, dark blue, and yellow. Perhaps the following day, she would walk into the sea and feel the coolness and soft, slipperiness of the ground beneath her bare feet as she had done when a child on the shores of Lake Van.
Cemal was busy inside the hut pulling and pushing things around. Meryem suspected that he would make her sleep in the hut while he himself spent the night outside in the coolness under the stars.
Silently, she removed her plastic shoes and thick socks. The cool water was delightful and refreshing. Then she washed her shoes and put them on again without the woollen socks, which she quickly stuffed into her pockets. She suddenly felt much lighter.
When darkness fell, Cemal lit the small lamp in the hut. Suddenly, hundreds, thousands even, of flying insects attacked Meryem’s arms and legs, and began to suck her blood. Her skin began to itch and swell. Although she continuously slapped her arms and legs, Meryem could not win the battle against such an army of mosquitoes. She wondered how Cemal could endure this torture with such calmness.
Cemal had also been dismayed when he saw the hut and was wondering how they would survive imprisoned in these few square meters of space. The dark forest and aggressive mosquitoes did not disturb him as they did Meryem. He was even slightly pleased, for these small creatures reminded him of his survival training as a commando.
When he returned to shore, he caught a glimpse of a spotted snake slithering through the grass. “This place must be full of snakes and scorpions,” he thought. Recalling all he had learned during his military training, he began to think of ways to keep Meryem safe from these kinds of creatures. Then he realized with a start that he was trying to protect the girl whom he had been ordered to kill.
If a snake bit the girl in this wild, remote place, his problems would be over. He could not have thought of a better solution.
“Let’s wait and see,” he thought, even as he sprinkled the floor with some sulfur powder he had found in a jar. No insect would get inside now.
In a few days, Cemal and Meryem got used to the hut and its foul smell, but they had a new problem—boredom. Since Cemal did not say a word to her, Meryem did not speak either. She spent the days sitting on the narrow strip of sand with her feet in the cool sea. Cemal lay on the ground in the open air most of the time, but Meryem was not sure if he was asleep or awake. Sometimes he took the boat and rowed to the opposite shore.
Once, he disappeared for many hours. Taking advantage of his absence, Meryem undressed and got into the water. She washed herself all over with a piece of soap she had found in the hut. She tried to cure the open sores on her arms and legs she had made from scratching the mosquito bites by rubbing them with salt water. Then she loosened her long, shoulder-length hair to let it dry in the sun. At the same time, she kept a close lookout for Cemal so she could cover her head with her newly washed scarf as soon as she saw him coming.
IT TAKES ONE HUMAN TO HEAL ANOTHER
As the rowboat glided over the still water in the evening mist, Meryem thought that the big sailboat they were approaching resembled a tower rising from the sea, imposingly white in the still air. Cemal rowed and drew up alongside it.
Meryem had difficulty climbing the aluminum ladder, so İrfan caught her by the arm and pulled her up. She shuddered when his fluffy beard rubbed her face, and she smelled the alcohol on his breath.
Unaccustomed to the alien and sterile atmosphere in which they found themselves, both she and Cemal sat down meekly in the seats the professor indicated to them. Their host had already prepared dinner and the table was set. Candles were burning, and wine was cooling on ice.
Meryem had become accustomed to eating in front of men, but now she was faced with the realization that she was about to be served by a man, with food he had cooked himself. Not only was he a man, he was an older man, from the city, an educated man—a professor, in fact. She stirred restlessly in her seat and did not know what to do as the man leaned forward to put food on her plate. This was the first time in her life such a thing had happened to her, and she was too covered with confusion even to look at what was being served.
Cemal was also confused though less so than Meryem. He did not understand the reason for the professor’s invitation. Why would such an important man want their company? He was even more awe-inspiring than his commanders in the army had been. This man was a university professor as well as being as old as Cemal’s father.
Cemal refused with a shudder the wine İrfan offered him and looked askance as the elderly man filled his own glass. He had never sat at a table where alcohol was served. Was he betraying his father again? He burned inside, yet he had to remain respectful and silent as long as he was with the old professor. “Each to his own sin,” he thought.
On the sailboat, motionless on the still, dark waters of that enchanted cove, the three diners sat buried in ambiguous silence. Each was aware that there was something peculiar about their situation without comprehending exactly what it was.
An intense scent of jasmine suddenly filled the darkness. The incredible sweetness of it seemed to pervade even their bodies. Dizzy, they silently ate their food in the warm light of the kerosene lamp.
After overcoming her initial embarrassment, Meryem realized how delicious the food was. It was somewhat like spiced sausage and tasted even more delicious after days of eating fish at every meal.
Apart from the day of the professor’s visit, they had eaten only the small fish Cemal caught. They were not supposed to eat those from the farm. Every day Cemal rowed out into the cove and, after waiting patiently for hours, would catch a few small fish. Meryem could not bear to clean and gut them, so Cemal did that job. Feeling squeamish, Meryem would fry them and set the table under the hungry gaze of wild cats waiting for the innards. She and Cemal would finish their silent meal in a few short minutes.
Dinner on the big boat, however, was quite different. Compared to the filthy hut, this place was like heaven. Everyth
ing was immaculate, well kept, and well cared for.
After dinner, İrfan offered them some chocolate out of a fancy box. He himself continued to drink steadily until his speech became slurred, and his movements slowed down. When he stood up to clear the table, he staggered and had to grab hold of it for support.
Cemal immediately reached out to help him, saying, “The girl will clear the table and do the dishes. It’s her job.”
Meryem carried the dirty plates toward the ladder which the professor had climbed up with the food. Downstairs, she found a small kitchen, and though she had a hard time finding a garbage can and the faucet, she quickly washed and dried the dishes. Her sharp eyes saw where everything should go, and she even worked out how to use the detergent and rinse the foaming bubbles from the dishes.
Meanwhile, İrfan was talking to Cemal, trying hard to extract information from the reticent young man. What were the two young people doing on this fish farm? Where had they come from? Why were they there? What kind of a relationship did he have with the girl?
Slowly, in dribs and drabs, the young man began to answer his questions. İrfan felt he was slowly disentangling the mystery of this young couple, yet some things were still unclear. He had worked out that they were cousins, and Cemal did not talk about the girl as though they were lovers, but what were they doing in this cove? Perhaps they were fugitives.
Suddenly, İrfan had an intriguing thought. When someone changed his own life, could it affect the lives of others, too? Or, could he change his own life by transforming other people’s lives?
The idea of participating in the fate of these two young people excited İrfan as though he were playing an entirely new role. Moreover, with his commando training, Cemal would be a great help on the boat. The girl was already doing the dishes. Meryem had had an amazing effect on İrfan, who found the little girl oddly attractive. He liked her large, round, moist eyes that always seemed wide open in amazement. These youngsters could do many tasks on the boat that he could not do himself because of his injured leg, and he would no longer be alone, traveling from one bay to another. He remembered something his mother had said: “It takes one human to heal another.”