“Allah-Allah…”
Ilhan had enough of listening, and chirped in Turkish, “Morning! When did you arrive?”
His mother stood up quickly, looking relieved. “Ilhan! Son, where have you been? We have been so worried about you. Where did you spend the night?” She opened her arms, indicating to Ilhan that he should come and hug her.
“What? When did you arrive?” Ilhan asked anxiously, hugging his mother and then his father.
“Last night, son,” his father chipped in. “Where were you?” he asked.
“Who is she? Is she from a good family? Tell us, son,” his mother interrupted, everyone looking hopeful.
“Elif, let Ilhan answer me,” his father spoke soothingly, but at the same time, his tone was firm.
“I am his mother. I have every right to ask questions, Ercan,” his mother snapped. Her eyes were still on Ilhan.
“Woman, no one is questioning your authority or right. Allah-Allah. Hush, for a minute.”
Ilhan had enough of their harmless but irritating bickering and answered quickly, “I was at a friend’s place last night. We were up until late, so I crashed there. No girlfriend or a baby, Mum, and you should know by now I don’t use drugs.”
“See! I told you, he would be with his friends,” his father retorted.
“Where are you staying?” Ilhan asked. He only had a one-bedroom flat.
“We have a room at the same motel we stayed at before, but when you didn’t return, we slept here. We were hoping to spend some time with you today and then return back tomorrow.”
“Oh, okay. I'm glad you're here,” Ilhan spoke with an artificial smile on his face.
“Kuzum—my lamb—we miss you so much. I keep asking your dad whether there is a way for us to move here, but he says his business is in Mount Barker…” She tsked again. “At least, you're not too far, so we could drive here to visit you as often as we want.”
His mother wrapped her tiny arms around him. She was a petite woman, so it was easy for Ilhan to just hug her. It was amazing that someone so tiny was larger than life when it suited her. Otherwise she gave the impression of a quiet wife, which never fooled his dad. He often referred to her as the belt that held the pants up at home, so he was grateful she wasn't living in Perth. Otherwise she'd take over everything with her overprotective nature.
“Never mind, Mum. At least we're only a few hours’ drive away from each other.” He rocked her gently and lovingly.
“Your mum brought your favorite fried börek —pastries—son. Elif, why don’t you bring us some with tea? I am hungry, anyway.” His dad looked at Ilhan’s mum hopefully.
“Oh. But, your doctor told you to stay away from fried food, Ercan. I was going to give you some cereal,” Elif chirped. She nodded in an attempt to convince her husband that having cereal with skimmed milk was tastier than her fried vegetarian börek snacks. She made them with fresh feta cheese and herbs, the mint and chives from her own garden, but still, the delicious triangles were deep-fried phyllo pastry.
“No, wife. That new doctor looks younger than my own son. What would he know? He probably finished the medical school a few weeks ago. That cereal thingy is no good for my Turkish belly. Come on, Elif,” he almost whined, trying to look pitiful to his wife. “Do you want me to walk around with a grumbling tummy?”
She was already shaking her head and muttering, “Just this once, okay? I am not having you get sick with high blood pressure. Just remember that.”
Ilhan’s dad winked at his son and raised his voice slightly.
Thank you, karim—my wife. Where would I be without you?”
“At a café, where else? I know you, remember?” his mum retorted.
His dad laughed, shaking his head. “She knows me so well.”
Ilhan smiled at his dad but didn't hide his worry. “Dad…you're gaining weight. You really need to take your doctor’s advice more seriously, you know. He may look young, but you know the guy must have passed everything with flying colors to be a GP. He already warned you about your pre-diabetic symptoms.”
His dad reached forward and patted Ilhan’s hand. “Son, look at your dede—grandfather. He is still up and about with all his faculties in working order. You and I are made from his genes. Don’t worry, okay?”
Ilhan rolled his eyes and shook his head at his father’s refusal to take his doctor’s advice seriously. Right now what bothered him the most was feeling caught between his parents and his boyfriend, who was waiting for him to come back. Fuck. I left my mobile phone there, I have no way to let him know what's happening here. Lost in his own worries, he was jolted out of his thoughts when he heard someone knocking at his door.
With a sinking heart, he knew who it was.
“I’ll get it,” his mother chirped in Turkish from the kitchen.
Ilhan jumped up. “No! I’ll get it.” He rushed to the door before his mother left the kitchen. He practically ran for his life to open the door before her. Before he knew what was happening, John pushed him up against the wall, grinding his hips against Ilhan's.
“I missed you. So I’m here to take a bath here with you instead. Hurry up before we start stinking.”
Ilhan froze from shock and horror. John was busy nibbling his neck and making funny growling sounds. Ilhan quickly tried to push him away, but John started tackling him playfully. Only then did John notice they weren't alone from the way he went stock-still.
Ilhan whimpered with fear from what was about to happen.
“Ilhan! What is the meaning of this?” his dad shouted in English.
“Ercan! Why are you shouting?” his mother asked in Turkish, rushing into the hallway with a spatula in her hand. When she saw John holding her son, she stood looking confused.
CHAPTER ELEVEN - John
“Oh! Aren’t you the cleaner?” she asked in English with a hesitant smile. John let go of Ilhan, who remained uncommunicative, head down.
“No, ma’am. I do more than that. I’m the caretaker,” he answered respectfully, still aware of Ilhan standing almost behind him.
“What’s going on here? Why were you shouting, Ercan? Ilhan, what’s going on?” his mother asked in English, looking at everyone in the hallway. In her culture, same sex people hugged each other or held hands all the time so she took no notice of the close proximity between her son and John.
“I caught this man kissing your son, Elif. Can’t you see how close they were when you came in here? Are you blind, woman?” his father almost roared.
His mother stood in shock, and then took a giant step to close the door. She snapped at Ercan, “Hush! The neighbors will hear you, husband!” She turned her back to rest on the door, looking petrified, as if people might come and push on the door.
“Oğlum—my son—were you kissing this man or was he pushing himself onto you?” she asked in Turkish hesitantly, her eyes on both young men.
John looked lost and turned to Ilhan with a question in his eyes.
Ilhan took a deep breath and lifted his head to answer his mother. He knew he was blushing furiously because his ears were burning. His back was damp from excessively sweating and his heart was beating furiously against his chest.
“Hayir, Anne—no mum—he wasn’t pushing me or forcing me,” he answered shakily in English. He knew John was offended when he realized what his mother had asked her son. It felt right, though, that John understood what was being discussed.
His mother gasped, holding her hands over her mouth and bursting into tears.
“Are you telling me, you are a homoseksuel?” his father asked coldly in English, clenching and unclenching his hands.
“Yes, father. I'm gay.” Ilhan looked into his father’s eyes, still shaking but trying to look brave.
“And this man is your boyfriend?”
“Yes, father.”
John saw Ilhan's face change from bright red to a waxy pale coloring. His chest almost ached, because this wasn't how he'd imagined meeting with his guy’s folks.
He felt totally helpless. All he could do was watch and listen. He felt like shit that he caused all this mess.
“Are you telling me, I spent all my money and time on you so that you could bring shame into our family and sleep with a cleaner?” Ercan growled.
“Father! No. Please don’t insult John. He's honest and a good man. You don’t know him, so don’t take your anger out on him.” Ilhan spoke more decisively this time.
His father looked shocked at his son’s outburst for a few seconds. Then he suddenly stepped forward and gave Ilhan his first slap in his entire life.
Ilhan stood frozen as he held his face. He felt the throbbing ache on his cheek, but still couldn’t comprehend what had just happened.
“Ercan! No!” his mother shouted, but it was too late. Ilhan received another slap to his other cheek.
By then, John had stepped forward to stand in front of Ilhan. “Sir, don't hit him again. You can hit me if you want to but not him,” he spoke sharply.
Ilhan’s mother was crying, but he didn't turn toward her. His father's eyes were an angry, older version of Ilhan's.
“Both of you get out of my apartment. I paid for this place. I paid for everything and I withdraw all my support. No more! You are no longer my son. Get out without taking anything. Let’s see how you will survive, you ungrateful child,” Ercan growled.
“Ercan, please. Don’t do this. We could always take him to therapy. He is our only child,” Elif cried, but her husband sharply ordered her to be quiet.
“Ma’am, with all due respect, neither Ilhan nor I have a mental illness, so he isn't going to see any therapist or doctor. If it's any consolation, I think the world of your son and would never do wrong by him,” John said with conviction. He turned back to Ilhan, who had his head down and led him to the front door.
Opening the door, he turned back to Ercan and Elif, speaking softly, “There isn’t much I can do about my choice of career. I wasn't lucky enough to have a father or a mother who were healthy and able. At seventeen, I had no one to turn to, so I'm proud that I've made a life for myself. I'm sorry my job and lack of education is a problem for you. I’m again, sorry that you found out about Ilhan and me this way. But, I deeply care about your son. He’ll be at my flat if you need to speak to him.” He respectfully nodded his head toward the sobbing woman and guided Ilhan to leave.
The door was closed with a loud slam that made both men jump but neither turned back. “Come on, let’s go to my place.” John grimaced.
With a heavy heart, John made coffee for them and took the mugs in to the lounge. When he saw the tearful, forlorn face of his boyfriend, he put the mugs on the coffee table and sat beside Ilhan, pulling him onto his lap. “Come here, baby.”
Hearing a quiet sniffle, he hugged Ilhan tightly. “It’s all right, babe. Cry. There's only us here.”
Ilhan buried his face into John’s neck and cried as silently as possible. He felt soothed as he listened to John telling him, “They’ll come around, you’ll see. Just give them time. They had the shock of their lives when they saw me practically eating your lips, babe.”
Ilhan couldn’t help giggling tearfully. “I had the shock of my life when you jumped on me,” he came back at John playfully.
“We’ll talk to them together when everyone is calmer, okay?” John kissed his man’s temple.
When Ilhan nodded in response, John said, “You’ll stay here with me, okay? You're not going anywhere, buddy.”
“It’s okay. I have some money that was left to me from an uncle. We can do this together.” Ilhan said softly.
“That’s good cos it would help us, but I’m not poverty stricken, so you try not to use your money right now,” John continued casually. He started tickling the slim body on his lap. “You just take a deep breath and give your folks time. In the meantime, keep baking those yummy rolls for us.”
Ilhan tightened his arms around John’s neck. “Thank you. You were my anchor there.”
“We've been together for only a few weeks, but I’m falling for you so fast, Ilhan,” John whispered as he kissed his temple again.
“I’ve been in love with you for months. Why do you think I kept chasing you for all those months?” Ilhan asked playfully.
“Let me tell you something about your courting skills, man…they suck. I thought you were trying to annoy me deliberately! You were a douchebag!” John laughed.
“Hey, you were the first guy I tried to get to pay attention to me! For a beginner, I wasn't too bad,” Ilhan answered tartly.
“You’re right… As a beginner, you sure got my attention with those tight jeans, looking all sexy and adorable.” John smiled as he looked into Ilhan’s puffy, tear-stained but still beautiful green eyes.
“I knew you couldn’t resist my charms,” came the cheeky reply, which made John tickle him again. He pushed the slim body off his quickly, though, before any retaliation. John was ticklish, so he tried to get away instinctively, but the sinewy body was fast, and jumped back on him to attack again. John laughed loudly and hugged Ilhan tightly to stop him.
They spent the afternoon talking and playing with each other, but when Ilhan looked withdrawn and unsure by the evening, John took him to a local Japanese café. It was a casual dining place with reasonable prices and welcoming faces. When they checked the menu, John found out Ilhan had never tried Japanese cuisine before, which surprised him. “How come you've never tasted anything Japanese?”
Ilhan shrugged as he checked out the menu. “At home, mum cooked what she was taught by her mother when she was a young girl, which means we eat only Turkish dishes. We did try a few Indian dishes sometimes from a neighbor who moved into the area before I came over here, but that’s it.”
“If you haven't chosen anything, may I recommend you try my favorite dish?” John asked, leaning forward in his enthusiasm.
Ilhan giggled as he nodded. “You big kid. Go on. You order for us.”
“I'll order tofu teriyaki for us. It’s a vegetarian dish which won't challenge your palate.” John smiled as he stood up to order their meals at the counter.
CHAPTER TWELVE - Ilhan
Ilhan watched John ordering their meals at the counter. He was animated with the old Asian lady. It was obvious that he was a regular customer from the way she chatted with him. Ilhan was amused at the way the old lady pinched his cheeks and shooed him.
“I assume you're a regular here?” He grinned as John sat back down.
John smiled, his eyes on the woman. “Yeah. I come here about twice a week. She's so funny, and for some reason took a shine to me and mothers me.”
Ilhan could see how much John enjoyed her attention. He guessed losing his mum left him yearning for this kind of attention. He remembered how John looked when he talked about his mother and his time in foster care. He thought of the love he'd received from his parents, who had just rejected him, and he felt deep sorrow. I guess at least I had the love up until then. I can only imagine how he must have felt when his mum passed away when he was seventeen. He felt tearful at the image of a young John struggling to find his feet in life all on his own. He brought his feet to hug John’s foot.
“I can see why she pampers you cos you're a wonderful man. Thank God, she's old and frail, so I don’t need to turn into a roaring green giant and take out my anger. After smashing the tables, I'd grab you and run back home,” he declared hoarsely. Ilhan’s eyes were on John, letting him know his feelings for him.
John took a deep breath as he looked into Ilhan’s eyes. His smile was tremulous when he brought his other foot forward in an attempt to hug Ilhan discreetly.
By the time their teriyaki tofu arrived at their table, John was explaining how he loved munching on fried tofu. Ilhan took a bite of it and was initially shocked at the smooth texture and the tangy sauce drizzled over it.
“Oh. My. God. This is delicious! So different but so yummy. Thanks, John. One day, teach me how to use chopsticks so I could use them like you instead a fork,” he e
xclaimed, taking another chunk of the delicious food.
“It’s easy. We’ll practice at home while chomping on Japanese takeaway meals,” John replied. They ate in silence, and John noticed how quiet Ilhan had become as he played with his rice.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, tilting his head.
“I don’t know what’s going to happen now. This isn’t how I envisioned coming out to my parents. I thought of telling them first how I wanted to open my own café and quit the university. Later, after I'd proved to them how good I was as a café owner, I was hoping to tell them I was gay,” he hunched his shoulders and answered slowly with his head down. “Those two are a quirky pair, but I love them. I thought they loved me, too.”
“I'm sorry, Ilhan, for outing you like I did,” John said, his hoarse voice riddled with regret. “It never occurred to me your folks would come down to visit you. I feel awful.”
“It’s okay. What happened was unexpected. I didn't even think they'd come so suddenly with no warning. I just wanted them to meet you at a better time, you know? But who knew I was so irresistible, you couldn’t stay away from me and had to jump on me the second you saw me!”
Ilhan giggled as he wiped away the tears that had formed in his eyes. He suddenly realized this man mattered to him enormously and they'd do their best to win his parents over. He felt a deep sense of hope and reached out to squeeze John’s hands, then went back to eating his meal. As he chewed, he nodded in agreement with John that they were no quitters.
After they'd left the café, Ilhan asked whether John would like to walk to Kings Park for an evening stroll. The walk was a bit long, but it gave them a chance to relax and talk sweet nothings.
“Hey, John. Do you think people would like my recipes if I opened a café? I have some money from my uncle who passed away last year. I think it would give me enough deposit for a mortgage to open a small café.”
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