Yasemın Aydinoğlu - Istanbul Noir

“I was, son. But there’s no need, I already know about Esra’s predicament. Like you said, I sit at the window all day, and I’m not blind. But anyway, my claim remains.”

“What claim?”

“About heaven.”

“You mean, even if she’s a slut?”

“What exactly are huris supposed to do, Tufan?”

Tufan tried to recall what he’d been told in religion class back in school, or the things he’d heard during his childhood. He hadn’t had anything to do with God for some time. After his father died and he’d gotten the apartment all to himself, he never went to prayer, not even on religious holidays. He could hardly remember a thing. But okay, the duty of huris...

“That’s exactly it, Tufan.”

“What, you mean about them being some kind of whores, right?”

Ekber Amca burst out laughing.

“Nooo! What kind of language is that now?”

Well, what then?

“Theirs is a holy duty.”

“Oh, so you mean if she spreads her legs for every Tom, Dick, and Harry here , she’s a slut, but over there ...”

“Slut’s a term we use, son. A label we slap onto people when it suits us. Look up. We can’t know who’s what in His eyes, now, can we? Look, for example, back in Sumer, it was the responsibility of priestesses.”

“Now you’re messing with me.”

“It’s historical fact.”

“Well,” said Tufan, laughing, “then you’re right. Şaşkınbakkal’s crawling with huris.”

“And handsome gılmans too.”

“If it’s like you say, then yes.” Tufan was in a good mood now. He’d forgotten all about the police. But wait, what about the abundance, all that milk and honey in heaven?

“You said it yourself.”

“Said what?”

“That Şaşkınbakkal could only be a heaven for rich people. I mean,” he said, spreading his arms out, “you want abundance, well, here you have it.”

“Like that abundance is for us .”

“Why not? You get your share, don’t you?”

“Selling drugs?”

“However. The fact of the matter is that there is abundance here, and you benefit from it.” The old man laughed again, then stopped and shook his head. “No, I haven’t lost my marbles from loneliness, or from sitting at the window all day. But, well, yeah, when you’ve got nothing else to do, you think... a lot.”

“So, you mean you thought and you pondered, long and hard, and you found heaven, here?”

“Not yet. But it’s around here, somewhere. Or at least, it seems like it to me. Look around you: the sea in front of us. Look at those lights coming from the islands, like a necklace of jewels there on the dark sea. Where else can you find such beauty? This is one of the most beautiful seas on earth.”

“You mean the Sea of Marmara?”

“Of course.”

“That sea in front of us? The one teeming with germs?”

“It didn’t used to be like that.”

That’s right, it didn’t. Tufan remembered going swimming here back when he was five or six years old. Right over there was the sailing club. And a little farther down, Suadiye Beach. A long time ago. Before they filled in the shore and built the road.

“Besides,” said Ekber Amca, “they’ve reopened Caddebostan Beach.”

Tufan laughed again. That’s right, they had reopened it. And the masses had rushed in to get their feet wet. The municipality claimed that the pollution level had fallen. Bullshit. Just pulling the wool over the people’s eyes. But Tufan didn’t want to draw this out any longer than necessary.

“All right, fine. A beautiful sea before us. What else?”

“Tufan, you ever walk around?”

“What do you mean?”

“Here. Not on the avenue, in the streets.”

“Like, when?”

“Anytime. Spring, summer, winter, whenever. Tell me, when was the last time you took a walk though the side streets of Şaşkınbakkal? Those treelined roads, quiet, calm, so far from the chaos of the avenue, with the occasional breeze caressing your hair? It’s been a long time, hasn’t it? Probably back in middle school, with your girlfriend or something? And now, ha, only when you’re running away... or when Teoman calls... By Teoman, I mean your boss. And a dwarf you say?... All right, okay, why are you getting all riled up?”

“Ekber Amca... man, this just ain’t right.”

“Why not?”

“I mean, I don’t know. This shit’s got me feeling so naked, so exposed. This, that, everything...”

“But you can read mine too.”

“How?”

“I don’t know. Just try... No, son, you’re not high, you’re clean... No, no! Ha ha ha!... No way! You haven’t hit your head or anything either.”

Tufan didn’t get it. He didn’t get it, so he tried. How he tried, or how he did it, he did not know, but in no time his head was spinning from all the images, scents, tastes, sounds that filled it. He heard the leaves from the plane trees rustle in the wind in the side streets in the middle of winter. He saw children running through the alleys in the spring. He saw fourteen-year-old Ekber, in the middle of summer, drinking cognac and smoking dope with friends in the hut of the older Emin, who rented out boats on the shore, before the road had been built over it. The day he married Hilmiye Teyze, may she rest in peace. Ekber becoming a father. And then his son slamming the door shut behind him, cursing. How his daughter married a hard man who, yes, was just like him. His departure for Germany. Hilmiye’s Teyze sudden death. Pain. Loneliness. Growing old. He saw him growing weak. He felt it.

“Focus,” said the old man.

It was so easy.

I just learned how to do it myself. You came up next to me, you know, when I turned around and looked at you. And you were about to attack me. No, don’t worry, it’s okay. I’m not angry. There you go, calm down. Just like that. You understand me now?... Oh, come on, don’t get upset. The loneliness is my loneliness, it’s no fault of yours! My wife’s death, the way my son and daughter up and left... How were you to know that I had no other friends but you and those other kids out on the street? I got up early every morning and waited for you guys to go out into the garden and play — what did you think?... Oh, now, son... No, no, you didn’t get on my nerves. I couldn’t have cared less about you messing up the flowers. You get it, don’t you? The reason why I got so upset, yelled and screamed at you guys... Oh, now, son, I know, you’re lonely too. There are lots of us. C’mon now... Shhh... Don’t cry. You got used to it back in law school, so much hope, so much ambition... How proud dear Mehmet Bey was that you were going to become a lawyer. But then, well, you became a filthy drug dealer... Ohhhh, please now, son! Well looky here, so there is a special someone. Oh, but she doesn’t know, huh? That’s all right.

Tufan couldn’t stop crying. I’ve already hit thirty, Ekber Amca, and just look at me, man!

Okay, son, now just calm down. It’s all over now.

What do you mean all over? Can’t you see? I sell poison to kids! I wait for them in front of school, sell to kids as young as fucking fifteen! Everything I’ve ever stood against... Don’t you understand?

We don’t have to understand, Tufan. You don’t have to understand me, and I don’t have to understand you. Or the world, or anything else. We don’t have to understand. We’re children. All of us. His children. We don’t have to understand. It’s over now.

The old man threw his arm over Tufan’s shoulder. The latter let it all out, leaning against the old man, weeping loudly. Teoman. Beatings. Fear. Escape. Police. Drugs. Yeliz. How can I tell her? I’m screwed! I’m fed up with this shit!