Bosphorus 13

CHAPTER 13

         Each day when Sara opened a newspaper she couldn’t help but think, ‘what next?’ October elections rolled in with chaos. Premier Ecevit’s sudden resignation and the new coalition government brought extra waves of disturbance to Turkey. The police were put on full alert and Ali worked day and night. Sara could only see him twice and only for a few minutes each time when he came to the bookstore in between his assignments. He called the bookstore at nights and even sent Ahmet over on three occasions.

         And Sara kept repeating in her mind that evening Ali kissed her. Nothing could rival that. Would she prove to be capable enough to receive this sudden gift from life? She remembered how, in order to ease her mind, he let her peer under the bandage on his head, and how he was concerned about Enver's obsession with her. He'd told her repeatedly he didn't like her working in the bookstore late. Sara had tried to reassure him by saying that she was never left alone in the store.


         The third week of October, on Tuesday evening, Ali stopped by after the closing time. From where she sat, Sara saw Taner tell him to go right up the stairs where she was typing. As he was coming up, she pulled a chair next to her. Ali hesitated, but then sat with his knee touching hers.

         “Are you in a hurry?” Sara asked.

         “No, I have a few minutes.”

         He seemed troubled and tired.

         “They have been working you too hard.”

         “Work has been good for me," he hesitated. "I don’t know which is worse, being away from you or being too close.”

         “I wish I knew how to react to your statement.”

         He moved forward and planted a kiss on her neck lightly. “It’s simple arithmetic,” he said. “One and one has to total to one.”

         “You need rest,” Sara joked.

         “It is not the rest. We’ll have to talk seriously soon or I’ll amount to nothing.”

         Right after he left, Sara held her hand over the part of her neck where his kiss had landed. She felt the joy of it again. ‘My mind’s gone completely,' she thought.

         The following Friday, Luther Brandt called Sara to his office.

         “I have your drawing hanging in the central hall showcase. Did you see it?”

         “Yes, thank you very much.”

         He handed her a printed sheet of paper in German.

         “Tell me what you read.”

         “A drawing contest, in ink, pen only no brush, Heidelberg Art Institute. Scholarships awarded.”

         “I want you to enter.”

         “We haven’t worked on it yet. I have no knowledge of the media. They say it is the hardest.”

         “We’ll study it soon in class and I’ll work with you separately. There’s time until July twenty-nine. I see no problems.”

         Sara nodded in agreement.

         “I would start with you immediately, but I still don’t have my place.”

         Sara had forgotten about that. She wrote herself a reminder on the corner of her pad.

         She couldn’t care less about the contest. There was no way she could win, but the experience would help her in the long run. Besides, how could she say no to a teacher who believed in her?

         Outside the school, she hoped for a glimpse of Ali or for some lucky coincidence. She scolded herself for her silliness. Still, as she hurried through the people and buses until she got to the bookstore, her eyes searched for him among the civilians, the uniformed policemen, and inside the stores; however, the only things she could see were the chaotic mobs of people and confusing traffic jams.

         Ali called her at the bookstore that night about half an hour before she would be leaving.

         “I’m working,” he said. “Past two weeks have been murder on me.”

         “I miss you,” Sara mumbled into the phone.

         “I miss you, too. I’ll make an effort over the weekend. If I love a woman, I want to be with her. With you, it is the ultimate. We have to talk about that."

         "Yes, I agree," Sara said in a whisper.

         "Is everything okay there so far?”

         “ Nothing earth shaking. Nimet is here, working late today and I’ll be leaving in a few minutes. I wish you were around.”

         “I wish to be always around you.”


         Sara’s heart jumped when she heard the knock on the window. Could that be Ali? Why, she was just on the phone with him... But he had a car and traffic wouldn’t be heavy at this hour. She darted to the door.

         “You shouldn’t answer the door without looking. You could get mugged.”

         Enver walked in looking straight into her eyes. Sara took a few steps back and checked for the boy or Nimet who were opening the new boxes of books in the back room. She could call out to them if need be.

         “Why did you come here?” she asked.

         “To check on the property. I will be your boss soon.”

         “Stay away from me.”

         “Threats, threats... I want to be nice to you.”

         He took the chair from the register and set it in front of her.

         “Sit. I want to talk to you.”

         He took the other chair himself and perched on it. Sara stood behind the chair, Ali's words echoing in her ears, "He's a very dangerous man, Sara. He's connected with high crime."

         “We have things to clear up,” he said.

         “I have nothing to talk about.”

         “Then, hear me out. I know you are scared of me. Believe me, I won’t touch you.” He motioned her to sit. “Well, Sara I have a proposition for you, but before that, let’s clear the air. Past is past. Forget it.”

         “What happened to decency? Don't you have any?”

         “A lot, Kid! Why do you think I came? Do you want an apology? What the hell, I’m sorry.”

         “Which thing are you apologizing for?”

         “For what happened last May between us. The thing you called rape when you reported it to your mother.” He took out a cigarette and lighted it. “Listen, I had a person who did things for me. He gave me wrong information about you. He said you slept around with that rich kid.”

         “So? What’s it to you?”

         “I lost my head and wanted to show you a thing or two. But, you had been good. He was wrong. I am a fair man. I want to make it up to you.”

         “Did Mother send you here?"

         “Lamia has nothing to do with this stuff.”

         “You were having me followed, weren’t you?”

         “Not all the time. Only because I care about you.”

         “You are still having me followed, aren’t you?”

         “I want you for myself, almost since I met your mother. I want to right a wrong here. Is that so bad?” He fanned the cigarette smoke away from her. “I want to marry you, if that’s your price.”

         Sara finally sat down on the chair. She couldn't afford to cross him too much. Maybe she should act softened.

         “I am not for sale. Not over my mother,” she said.

         “I’ll handle her. She doesn’t care for marriage. She doesn’t have your lofty ideas. And you don’t have a boyfriend, except that detective. My man keeps losing him when you are in his car.”

         “He is not my boyfriend,” Sara said, trying to appear calm. “He has been investigating the murder of a bus driver right here in front of the store. He thinks I am holding back something from him.”

         “I thought as much. A girl like you with a dumpy policeman...” He laughed.

          She guessed Enver knew all about her. That she wasn’t afraid of. But what if he did something to Ali? She had to veer him off Ali's tracks.

         “Sometimes, if it is too late and he is passing by here, he gives me a ride home. For protection, he says. It is his little investigation of the thing with that bus driver, really. I just take it with a grain of salt.”

         "Everyone is afraid of someone. You know you are very clever, I appreciate that.”

         Sara stirred on the chair. Had he caught her bluff? 'Please, God, No,' she prayed inside her.

         “Sure,” he mumbled with a grin. “If he’s a policeman, why not use him sometimes? I could drive you home today, if you want.”

         “I don’t think we should be seen together. Not yet,” Sara forced herself.

         “Smart girl, smart girl,” He nodded his head. “I take it your answer is positive then?”

         “I don’t have an answer yet. This has been sudden. Give me some time.” She was getting sick to her stomach.

         “Well... Think it over, Sweetheart. Just don’t take too long. I’m an impatient man. And don't forget, impatience can make me do things to people you may care about.”

         He held her chin as if pinching it and patted her cheek. Sara held back a scream.

         She could barely stand up after he closed the door behind him. When she turned around, she faced an open-mouthed Nimet who had to have been snooping. She swayed on her feet for a few seconds, then ran back to the bathroom and threw up.

         “Why didn’t you tell him off?”

          Nimet asked later, as Sara tried to control her trembling. Her nerves were in shambles now.

         “He is an awful man. He’d have Ali killed right away. He knows people, very dangerous people.”

         “You aren’t going to marry him, after what I think he did to you, are you?”

         “No, I am not. But he mustn’t suspect about me and Ali.”

         “You’re in love with Ali, aren’t you?” Nimet sighed.

         “Don’t say that, Nimet. No one should hear that.”

         “Look Sara, you are coming home with me. You are in no condition to go anywhere now. You can stay over at my place or go home later if we can arrange it.”

         “I have to call him to warn him. He said he’d try to see me over the weekend. He mustn’t.”

         “Call now.”

         “He’s working late. I talked to him before.”

         “We’ll call from my place, then. Let me phone the lady you live with. If you talk now you’ll get her excited.” She turned to the boy. “Get us a taxicab.” Nimet seemed to be such a different person at that moment.

         “I’ll have to alert Taner,” she said in the cab. “That Smart Aleck can get in a lot of hot water with a character like Enver.”

         At Nimet’s place, Sara couldn’t eat, drink or even talk at all. She felt tired, very tired. She shrunk in the corner of the couch shivering. She had held up well in front of Enver. Then, she could take only so much.

         She woke up to the feel of warmth. His hand on her forehead, his smile. She had to be dreaming. She smiled back at him. Then she saw the others in the room, Nimet, Taner, Ahmet, even the boy.

         She drew back. “Go away,” she said in a whisper.

         “Never,” said Ali. “You are coming with me.”

         “Sara, Why didn’t you tell me about Enver?” Taner asked.

         “Because you wouldn’t have believed her, Wise Guy,” Nimet answered him.

         “Don’t start again. The girl’s feeling sick,” Taner said. “It’s a good thing the contract with him didn’t finalize.”

         “You make everyone sick,” Nimet said. Ahmet and Ali were grinning.

         “Tell her,” Ahmet nodded at Ali, pointing to Sara.

         “Let’s all go to the kitchen. This is a private matter.” Taner swept the group out, then came back to drag Nimet with him.

         “What’s happening?” Sara asked Ali.

         “Something I had to tell them before I told you,” he smiled. “But first...”

         He lowered his face to hers, his hands clasping her head. His lips caught hers gently. She clutched the nape of his neck, her fingers in his hair, smelling the spearmint of his skin. She felt a shudder going through him, then into her, wishing he would never stop.

         “I can’t stay way from you any longer. I want you to marry me,” he said. “Immediately.”

          She looked at his lips. How tasty they were! The way he gazed at her.. His eyes so tender and so full of need... She ached inside.

         “No, he’ll kill you. He said that.”

         “Tough chance!”

         “He knows about you. I had to lie to him. I think he believed me.”

          She began shivering again. She had the power to send him away in order to save him.

         “He can’t make you do anything if you are already married.”

         “But, he can. To you... He has people following me.”

         “Darling, it is not easy to tail people if they are aware of it.”

         “How much did you tell? How much do Taner and Nimet know?”

         “As much as Nimet heard. And very little of the rest.”

          He buried his face in her neck and murmured something. She couldn’t feel anything but his breath on her skin. She stroked his hair gently.

         “Too many people know too much already. I don’t want you hurt or anything.”

         He pulled back, looked at her and let out a sigh.

         “I’ll take you with me. I’ll keep you safe, I promise.”

          She couldn’t break it with him. Not now. He’d hurt more than he had ever been hurt before. There had to be a way, another way.

         “I can’t promise the same to you. I am lethal, don’t you see?”

         “Sara, my safety is in your love for me. Is there any threat to that?”

         “No, Ali. But your life means more to me.”

         “I hope you people are not arguing before you are married?” Ahmet called from the kitchen.

         “She’s turning me down. She says it is too dangerous,” Ali yelled back.

         “She is right,” Ahmet said as he came through the door. Rest of them followed.

         “Do you know you got two proposals in one day, and you are turning them both down?” Nimet joked.

         “I only need one. His alone,” Sara pointed to Ali.

         “You Lucky Dog! She didn’t turn you down. All she’s saying is later,” Ahmet said.

         "I’ll take you home,” Ali stood up.

         “I’ll go alone, please.” Sara said. “Nimet, thanks for everything.”

         “Hey wait. I’ll take you. I am harmless. I am married, remember?” Ahmet said.

         “I don’t want to see you at work until Wednesday, you hear?” Taner told her. “Get a good rest.”

         “Ahmet, are we being followed?” Sara asked on the way.

         “I don’t know. Maybe. Do you want me lose them?”

         “Whatever. Is Ali going back to work?”

         “No, he told the office he was getting sick to get to you. He needs a rest anyway.”

          Sara sighed giving in to a sudden urge, “Then please lose them. And take me to Ali's place.”

         Ahmet simply nodded as he accelerated. He drove taking the side streets occasionally, while checking the rearview mirror. It took him forty-five minutes extra to get to the street where Ali lived, then he passed it and parked the car on the Main Street.
“Let’s walk,” he said.

         Ali faced them at the door in his pajamas. He was out of words when he saw Sara. Sara looked at him, her heart exploding in her chest.

         ” You told me you didn’t want to stay away from me any longer,” Sara said.

         “It’s all right, Ali. No tail. I’ve got to split,” Ahmet turned to leave. “What do I tell them at the office?”

         “Anything. Tell them I won’t be in for a long while. Tell them I died and went to Heaven.”

         “Some joke,” Sara shook her head.

         Ali took her hand and tugged her inside. Leaning his back to the door, he pulled her to him and buried his face in her hair. His warmth wrapped her as her head swayed dizzily at his chest.

         “You’re here. You really are here,” she heard him say as he lifted her chin to find her lips with his.

         They sat huddled together on the divan. He was still holding her.

         “We should get married without delay,” he said. “I want to do things right.”

         “No, marriage has to wait. It is risky.”

         “No, it isn’t,” he smiled. "Ahmet and I talked about it. We now have enough evidence to put Enver away.”

         “That is not a real solution and you know it. He'll bribe his way to get out. He'll get after us. You know he will. Think of the investigation. The investigation will suffer.”

         “But you are so important to me, more than any investigation.”

         “And you to me. We can buy time. Marriage contract is only a paper. We will be careful,” Sara said.

         Ali tilted his head to the side and looked at her for a while, then nodded his head in agreement.

         His bedroom smelled of spearmint like his skin. As he helped her undress and go under the covers, she worried about her own reaction to him. After the rape, she had become edgy to the degree that she couldn’t suffer through sex scenes at the movies.

         He lay close to her without any motion for a few seconds watching her eyes. Then he edged near her, stroking her gently. Her arms held him, feeling his body muscular and tense against hers, and his warmth taking her in waves. He tilted himself on one elbow and kissed her for a long time. The he moved over on top of her and slowly lowered himself onto her. She drew back unexpectedly, suffocating with the sudden attack of Enver’s image. A sweat broke loose as she implored in a hoarse tone, “No!”

         He rolled over in a flash slapping his body face down on the mattress rigidly and remained still. She turned her head to the opposite side and bit her lip. She had disappointed him.

         “Come on, it is not the end of the world.”

         He held her head and turned it to him. His eyes, soft and mellow, pained her. She had been right. She was damaged for life.

         “I am so sorry,” she said in a whisper.

         “Don’t say that,” He kissed her lips. “We will work it out.”

         “Never mind what I do. Just go ahead with it,” Sara said.

         “No,” he kissed her again. “When you are ready.”

         He covered her as he got up. She watched him feed the fire in the stove with two wedges of wood. Then he turned off the light and slid inside under the blanket. She slept to the touch of his hands and the warmth of his body.

         He was gone when she woke up. She stood and searched for her clothes. It was nine-thirty, time for the bookstore to open. Then she remembered she did not have to go. She heard Ali come in and she heard the sound of packages as he dropped them on the table in the other room. She sat on the bed and started dressing. He called in from the other room, “Don’t wear those, I’ll give you something.” He walked in with a brown striped pajama top for her.

         They had breakfast in the kitchen. He stopped her from doing the dishes afterwards.

         “I fill the sink with hot water and detergent. I always let the dishes wash themselves,”

          He took her hand and led her to the living room.

         “What if your landlady comes up?” Sara asked.

         “I told her to take a week off.”

         “A week?”

         “You think I’ll let you go so easily?”

         “I guess I can skip school, but I have to go to work.”

         “We’ll negotiate later,” he touched her hand lightly. “Come, let’s go to the other room.”

         The phone rang as he undressed.

         “Yeah, yeah. She’s okay. That son of a bitch. You don’t say! Okay, thanks.”

         “Guess what, he really had a mosque built in Beyazcik two years ago,” He told her. “That time he did it to please the rightist group. What do you say to that?”

         “He wants everybody on his side.”

         “Yeah, that’s it,” he said as he drew the contours of her lips with his fingertips. First he kissed her lightly, then with excitement. He undid the buttons of the pajama top and pulled the cloth down around her shoulders, touching and gazing alternately at her body and face. “Everything about you is so beautiful,” he said. She leaned over and touched her lips to his cheek. Sparks of longing flashed in his eyes as he stretched on his back pulling her on top of him.

         She watched the strands of his hair on the pillow wiggle in shades of brown with the daylight bouncing off of them, as he tensed under her. She pressed her lips against his chest and let him enter. She let this new feeling take over, this new feeling of being lifted and carried away, her sense of time and space melting away. She moved to his rhythm, to his tempo until a fiery quake, from the depths within, self-acting, shook her. He moaned and lunged deep into her, clasping her tight. A deep calm floated over her. She slid off to his side and kissed the side of his head with the scab. A sigh came out of his lips. When he opened his eyes they were soaked with tears.

         “I am the richest man in the universe,” he said.

         She kissed him repeatedly perking him up again. In a trance, he rolled over her and she accepted him with passion.

         Sometime toward the evening, Sara called Madam Arakian to tell her she would not be home for a while. She found that she had a lot of explaining to do. On top of Nimet’s call, which had given Madam the idea that Sara was somehow unwell, she had to absorb the idea that she wouldn’t be home for a week.

         “What friend?” She kept asking.

         From the top of her head she said, “Melek.” She didn’t want anyone, even Nimet know anything about her relationship with Ali. The risks were too great.

         No one would know where she was and no one could find out. Ahmet wouldn’t talk, and she was careful not to be seen as much as from a window. This was not an exile or an escape. This was her search for happiness. She was with Ali.

         Immersed in the delight of their new intimacy, she enjoyed their togetherness even in those common everyday things. Nights and days melted into one, sleep and waking hours mingled, loving and talking intertwined.

         He told her he felt guilty about the anarchy in the country and responsible somehow.

         “That’s ridiculous. How could you be responsible for that?”

         “In the early seventies, during my high school days, I demonstrated with the leftists,” he said. “Some of what they were saying at that time rang true. How would I to know it would all lead to this?”

         Sara couldn’t answer him because she had recalled something from the abyss of her memory. She too had felt guilty of not preventing her father’s death. Her secret childhood horror... Ali saw the agony in her eyes, and she told him. It was little things like that, bits of memories, thoughts and feelings that people usually found embarrassing to talk about, that was coming out into the open, and binding them more to one another.

         “I sensed it when I first saw you,” Ali said. “I felt there would be love, unconditionally.”

         “How could you have known then?”

         “The first lunch, remember? Did you ever think why I asked you to lunch in the first place?”

         “I did. I was wondering why you never questioned me further about the bus driver’s murder that day.”

         “I trusted you. Maybe I even loved you then. I didn’t care whether I had a right or not.”

         “Nimet knew. Were we that obvious?” Sara shuddered, thinking the worst; thinking that Enver would know too.

         He posed for her as she sketched him. His admiration for her talent was real. He wanted to see everything she drew, no matter how trivial. He could not put her sketchpad down; he kept viewing her drawings over and over.

         “I can’t believe you can draw like this,” he said. “Just what does apartment-brandt mean?”

         Sara had forgotten about it again. She told him about the teacher’s search for living quarters and the contest.

         “I’m sure you’ll win. What am I saying? You won already,” he said as he laughed with joy.

          She watched with a wide grin on her face. Her drab existence had become a work of art, dazzling and complete. She could not believe her luck that “he” was possible.

         Early Friday morning, when it was time to leave, Ali told her landlady that Sara was his fiancée. Then he turned to Sara.

         “Don’t worry about Emel. She’s a big help to me. She knows to keep this quiet.”

         Emel took Sara by the back door through a neighbor’s yard to a parallel street.

         The teacher for the last two periods had to attend the opening of her own exhibit. Having been granted some free time, Sara took the longer route to the bookstore. She got off the bus at the Karakoy Bridge. The Kadikoy Ferry, its harried passengers, the crowd pulsating on the bridge, fishermen selling fried fish off the dories, all glowed under a bright afternoon sun. Life seemed slipshod, with the beautiful and the ugly haphazardly scattered around and bunched together at the same time, but today, Sara had eyes for the beautiful. She smiled at the sunlight reflecting off the sea as if it were a mirror as she made her way through to the bus.

         The bookstore was busy. Nimet was explaining the difference between two publications to a customer. She winked at her from a distance.

         “Am I glad you are back,” Sophie said. “Boss had a fallout with your mother’s partner. He’s impossible.”

         “Better late than never,” Sara murmured.

         At closing time, Nimet stayed behind. “You’ll want to give me a left hook for this, but I have to tell you what happened.”

         “Sophie said something about Enver and Taner fighting.”

         “Not that. When you didn’t show up after a couple of days, I thought you were sick. So I called Madam Arakian. Did I get you in trouble or something?”

         “I don’t know,” Sara said. “I didn’t see her yet.”

         She tried to think of a believable excuse to give to Madam Arakian. She detested lies, but now she was getting used to them piecemeal. Oh, how she hated Enver!

         “You were with Ali, weren’t you?” Nimet remarked. “Don’t tell me. Better yet, you don’t talk about it.”

         “Thanks, you’re a real friend, Nimet.”


         Before Sara left the store Ali called. “Are you ready to go home?”

         “Yes, but I’d rather come to you.”

         “That’s one reason I called. I am working through the weekend. What a shock.”

         “You complain of work?”

         “Work is secondary now. Don’t you know that?” He laughed, his voice cascading like a waterfall in spring. How she wished to touch him now! “I found an apartment for your teacher, small with everything in it.”

         “I don’t know where to reach him until Monday,” Sara said.

         Madam Arakian did not question her. She said she was happy that Sara was making friends now and that she was not ill. Sara studied her as they drank the evening tea upstairs. Hers was a face, kind and honest in every respect. Her skin was straw-colored and etched, her body sagged as if pulled by gravity more so than others, and even then, while resting with her feet up, she sat slouched. Yet, she had to bounce about to make a living.
Sara got up to her feet and sat down on the couch beside her. Cuddling the old woman in her arms, she kissed her cheek.

         “Why, Sara? Just like when you were little. Did you remember that?” Madam Arakian seemed pleased.

         “I don’t want you to think I went away and forgot all about you,” Sara said.

         “People don’t forget if they care, and I know you care. Take my sister. She calls me over there all the time. Another letter today, would you believe?”

         “Are you going to go? I’d miss you, but it’d be easier on you in America.”

         “I don’t know,” Madam Arakian said. “I used to think I could never leave here. But things have changed. So much violence now.”

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         After Sara returned from work on Saturday, Lamia dropped by. She was carrying a package wrapped with a newspaper. She was composed; unlike the evening Sara had last seen her, and fresh, as if she was touched up by an artist.

         “You weren’t around for a while. Did you get angry at something the last time we talked?” She asked.

         “No, Mother. I have been very busy.”

         “She is busy and enjoying herself. She made new friends. She spends some of her time with them. Don’t you worry, Lamia,” Madam Arakian said.

         “At least that. But I don’t think you should work in that grubby store,” Lamia said.

         “I like my work, Mother. That store is not grubby.”

         Sara’s heart pounded in fear that Madam Arakian could talk about Ali. She should have foreseen this. She should have told Madam not to talk to Lamia about Ali. To her relief, Madam Arakian rose to her feet slowly.

         "I better go check the kitchen. You people need privacy.”

         “Please don’t leave,” Lamia implored. “I want you to see what I brought Sara.”

         “I don’t want anything from you, Mother.”

         “It isn’t anything I am giving you. They are your Grandmother’s.”

         Lamia unwrapped the newspaper, took the box out, and opened it. The box had jewelry, mostly gold with stones Sara was not informed enough to name.

         “Mother! You know I neither wear nor like things like that.”

         “Take it.” Madam Arakian urged her. “I remember your Grandmother wearing some of those. You can keep them in a safe.”

         “I don’t want to keep them for myself.” Lamia said. "I am afraid I might be compelled to sell them because of business problems.”

         “Mother, you should be careful for yourself, too,” Sara said.

         “Enver will take care of me, don’t you worry. I also have this for you.” She opened her bag and drew out a bankbook.

         “No, you don’t,” Sara refused vehemently.

         “Wait a minute.” Lamia tried to calm her down. “I am not giving you money. This is from the sale of your grandparents’ house or what was left of it. My sister took the farm in Gebze. I took the house and the lot in Silivri.”

         “So it is yours then,” Sara said.

         “You loved that house more than I ever could. That is one reason. Second, I recently sold the lot next to it, and if I have to sell anything else, I don’t want to be unfair to you. The book is made to your name.”

         “Thank you, Mother,” Sara said taking both the book and the box.

         She could keep these now and later give them back to her mother. She was certain Enver would leave Lamia penniless.

         ”Another thing. Stay away from that boss of yours. I don’t think you know what he did to Enver,” Lamia said.

         “What did he do?” Madam Arakian asked.

         “He withdrew from a deal with us the last minute. Enver says it is because of Sara. He doesn’t want Enver and me around her, because he has ideas about her himself.”

         “Mother, that's absolutely untrue. You are being taken by that man all the time.”

         “I don’t want a new warfare between you and I. I am just warning you about your boss, that’s all.”

         It was obvious Lamia meant what she had just said. If only Sara could show her the truth about Enver... But Lamia wouldn’t believe it anyway.

         “You know we should see each other more,” Lamia said as she was leaving. “I understand it is difficult to get home late from work and visit me afterwards.”

         “I am doing the best I can, Mother.”

         “You could come to the office during your lunch break.”

         “Your office?”

         “Sure, why not? It is close enough to your school and even closer to the bookstore.”

         Lamia was changing. Did the hard times hit her as well? Sara could not figure out why her mother, who used to be drained out of warm feelings, had mellowed so.

         Sleep at night did not come easily to Sara. She woke up clammy and feeling feverish several times with a raw longing, which struck her unbearably. She imagined Ali near her with an anticipation of joy, the things he did, his laugh, his untroubled ways, and the perfection of grace in his form. Still, her body and soul needed his exact touch. She was missing him. Like a sapling to the sunlight, she was introduced to a delight new to her. She marveled at this addiction forming roots inside her. All these years before Ali, she had lagged behind the human race.

--------------

         Under the rain in the center of Beyoglu, Sara stopped to read the names of those wanted for crimes against the state. The bulletins as such were hanging all over the city, yet no one bothered to look at them. From the corner of her eye she caught a fast hopping form. When she looked she saw the man with one shoulder raised, rushing into the recess of a doorway. Since it was Sunday, the stores were closed. She walked back calmly by him, turning her head just enough to observe his face. His glance shot into her, with the iguana-green eyes flaring beneath thick eyebrows. His crew cut hair seemed to have the color of rusty orange. His nose hung bridgeless, like an eggplant, in the middle of his freckled face. There was a large mole to one side at its tip.

         When her gaze caught his, she smiled lightly, unafraid, and kept on walking. A few minutes later, she turned around to watch him stride up to and past by her. She searched the ground as if she had dropped something.

         “Is something the matter, Miss?”

         The voice was a hoarse whisper, as if suffering from chronic laryngitis. It was he.

         “I dropped my pen, I don’t know where,” she whimpered, hugging her folder in her hand with the order forms she had worked on at home.

         “Say goodbye to your pen, then,” he said. “Someone probably pocketed it.”

         “True,” answered Sara. “That’s the way these days.” She nodded in a friendly manner and turned toward the direction of the bookstore.

         Obviously, his present orders were not only to follow her but to protect her as well. Ali had nothing to worry about her off-hours work. She had a bodyguard.

         She came back to Madam Arakian’s at five o’clock. Madam Arakian was to have dinner with her old friend in Buyukdere. She sketched the face she saw and added some coloring to make it come alive. Yes, she had caught the likeness all right.

         Just when she was about to get a sandwich for her supper, Emel, Ali’s landlady appeared at the front door.

         “You are coming with me,” she said. “Ali is home now and wants to see you.”

         His name brought a charge of redness to her skin. She followed Emel carrying her drawing pad with her.

         Emel took her through backyards with the side streets in between, sometimes entering buildings to chat with people. Ali was right. How could they follow you if you knew about it?

         He was waiting downstairs by the backdoor. He introduced her to Emel’s husband, a tall brown-haired man in his mid-forties, who looked like a heavyweight wrestler. Ali had told them about Enver and the problems with his mob. Their help was essential if Ali and Sara wanted to see each other.

         “I don’t let hanky-panky under my roof, not that he does it,” he said pointing to Ali. “Since I know the trouble, you are as good as married.”

         Sara nodded, her face turning crimson.

         “Look at this girl, so young. What do they want from her?” he continued. “Blast the Bastard, Ali. What do you wait for? You got the gun. You got the right of way.”

         “I feel like it, believe me,” Ali said. “But that job belongs to the courts.”

         “Which courts? Since when they are on the right side?”

         “We have to wait then, until they are on the right side,” Ali said.

         As soon as they were alone on the stairs, she flung her arms around him and kissed him. She had turned bold. Bolder than him. She saw his eyes light up with a sudden surprise, pleasure, and maybe a hint of mild panic. Inside the apartment, he asked her if she had eaten. “I am not hungry for food,” she answered.

         Lying down next to him later, she reflected how she had misconstrued the man woman relationships in the past. She had been so afraid of resembling Lamia that she had stilled her nature. The fear of society's rejection had made her uncomfortable in the presence of other people, but that fear was null and void now because of the warmth near her.

         “How come you cry easily?” she asked him, patting his face dry with her hand.

         “Why not show it, if you feel it?” he answered with a question. He added with amazement, “I never saw you cry. Couple of times I thought you would, but you didn’t.”

         “I didn’t cry in years, since Father died,” she told him.

         “One day I’ll make you cry,” he said. “Tears free the soul, didn’t you hear of that?”

         When he saw her drawing of the man following her, something passed across his face.

         “He seems familiar, but I can’t remember where I have seen him,” he said. “At least we know who follows you. That means you can dodge him. About him being a bodyguard, I wouldn’t bet on it. His orders could change.”

         “How do you dodge a person?”

         “I’ll show you, but not now,” he said, pulling her to him.


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Next:
"Bosphorus 14"