Farewell: A Mansion in Occupied Istanbul (Turkish Literature)

by Kulin, Ayse

  “And what emboldened her to go out onto the streets alone?”

  “She wasn’t alone. Hüsnü Efendi went with her.”

  “When they got to her aunt’s house she released Hüsnü. She entered the street unaccompanied even by her aunt.”

  “For God’s sake, uncle, what of it? Women have begun to take up employment in this city. An organization under the patronage of Naciye Sultan herself even encourages them to do so. That is to say, even your conservative friends at the Palace no longer advocate imprisoning women in their homes. The Municipality of Istanbul has begun employing the wives of men killed on the battlefield, letting them earn their own bread. Are we, members of a free-thinking family, educated for generations at palace schools, really at odds on this? Mehpare walked down the street alone. So what!”

  A single look at his uncle’s face was enough to tell Kemal that his efforts to steer the discussion onto safer ground had been in vain. It was time for a direct appeal. Voice trembling with emotion, Kemal began: “I’m begging you uncle, don’t allow Mehpare to be sacrificed in the feud between grand-mother and my aunt. Believe me, she hasn’t done a thing. I’m expecting news within the week. I’ll leave the moment it arrives, and your troubles will be over.”

  The door was still shaking on its hinges as Ahmet Reşat stormed down the hallway. Kemal listened to the sound of his uncle’s footsteps pounding up the staircase. A few moments later he heard the door to the upstairs bedroom slamming shut. He stood up, switched off the light and staggered to the door, guilty and afraid, barely able to keep to his feet, let alone climb three flights of stairs.

  But clutching the banister and pausing frequently to gather strength, he finally made it to his room. He was astonished to see a ghostlike presence illuminated by his bedside lamp rise from a chair and walk toward him. “Mehpare! What are you doing here? You still haven’t gone to bed?”

  “Listen to me, please, I didn’t tell the master anything. I did just as you said, I told neither Mahir Bey nor your uncle that you sent me. I said I was passing by when the explosion happened. And that’s what I’ll continue to say, no matter what. I wanted you to know that. That’s why I’m here.”

  “Mehpare.”

  “If Mahir Bey presses you for the truth, say nothing. He suspects you sent me. I denied it. I said I was passing through.” She spoke quickly, in a choked voice, breathing hard. Kemal took her by the hands and led her to the edge of the bed. They sat down next to each other.

  “Mehpare, don’t worry, I won’t say anything to anyone.”

  “But Ahmet Reşat Beyefendi thinks . . .”

  “That’s all he can do, think. No one knows anything for certain. He can’t accuse you. Don’t worry, he won’t discharge you without being absolutely sure. I know him. He’s a just man.”

  “It’s not myself I’m worried about, I’m afraid they’ll send you away.”

  “Were you listening to us?” There was no response. “Don’t worry, Mehpare. Neither you nor I are going anywhere. This won’t be the first storm to blow over in this house.”

  “If something should happen to you . . . because of me . . . I went there at the wrong time . . . I should have gone earlier instead of chatting with my aunt. Forgive me . . .”

  “I’m the one who should ask for forgiveness. If you only knew how I frightened I was when you didn’t come back. I was in agony. Until you appeared at the top of the street with Hüsnü Efendi. I made a terrible mistake, Mehpare, I should never have sent you there. My uncle has every right to be furious with me.”

  “What what was it, sir, what was that place?”

  “A charitable organization.”

  “Why would anyone bomb a charity?” Kemal didn’t answer. “You trusted me enough to send me there, but now you won’t tell me what kind of place it was.”

  Kemal blushed. “Various political activities are conducted there.”

  “So it wasn’t by chance . . . and the Karakol . . . I was petrified . . .” Kemal started at the word. “Karakol? What are you saying? What have you heard about Karakol?”

  “When the bomb exploded, everyone ran outside, and there were military policemen everywhere. They were going to take Mahir Bey and me in, but he stopped them, let me slip away.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?”

  “I told you I’d seen Mahir Bey!”

  “But you didn’t say anything about his being taken in to headquarters.”

  “I didn’t want to infuriate Saraylıhanım any further, so I said nothing.”

  “God, I’m such a fool!”

  “How were you to know about the bomb?”

  “I should have known. What if you’d been killed! Or hurt!”

  “The bomb exploded on the floor above. We were hit by a little debris, that’s all.”

  “God was watching over you.”

  “He must have been. Well, I’d best be leaving now, sir. Is there anything you’d like me to do? Shall I bring you a cup of linden tea before bed?”

  Kemal rested both of his hands on the girl’s shoulders to prevent her from rising. “You’re an angel, Mehpare,” he said. “My angel. It was you who nursed me back to health. Without you, I’d have died.”

  Kemal was silenced by the slender fingers placed on his lips. “Don’t talk about death.” Kemal kissed the fingers placed on his lips. Mehpare was too overcome to rise from the bed. Kemal pressed his lips first against her neck, then against her shoulder.

  “Sir . . . Please . . . No,” the girl moaned. Kemal retreated immediately.

  “You’re right, Mehpare. I shouldn’t have. I’m ill. I may even have consumption. I had no right to kiss you.”

  “You don’t have consumption. You don’t. And even if you did,” Mehpare said, moving closer. Hair was beginning to spill from beneath her headscarf. Kemal pushed her back and looked into her face, the face that had been there to greet him whenever he opened his eyes—for so many months now his only glimpse of beauty. How many times had he confronted death, how many times had he rediscovered the will to live when morning came, looking into these eyes? Kemal breathed deeply. Was he happy? Was this happiness? How long had it been? She sat before him, long throat slightly twisted. The top few buttons of her blouse were open. Her hair had fallen loose.

  When Ahmet Reşat entered his bedroom, he found his wife undressed beneath the covers, her hair lit by moonlight streaming in from the tall windows. She appeared to be sound asleep. He closed the curtains, slowly undressed, and had barely crept into bed when Behice turned to face him:

  “I drifted off,” she murmured sleepily.

  “Don’t rouse yourself. I have something to tell you, but it can wait until morning.”

  Behice rested her head on her elbow and looked at her husband. “There’s nothing wrong, is there, Reşat? I hope you haven’t thrown Kemal out of the house. I wouldn’t wish it on a cat, not at this hour. At least wait until morning.”

  Ahmet Reşat interrupted his wife. “It isn’t Kemal I want to talk about.”

  “What is it then? The ministry? You mentioned that salaries were going unpaid. Have they come to seize our property?”

  “No, nothing bad has happened,” laughed Ahmet Reşat, “but only time will tell us how auspicious my news is.”

  “Well tell me, I’m bursting to know!”

  “Behice Hanımefendi, you’re now the wife of a minister.” Behice screamed as she sat up. “They offered you the position! And you accepted?”

  “Salih Pasha has been promoted to Grand Vizier and he formed a new cabinet today. He pointed out that I have been the acting minister of finance for some time now and suggested we make it official. I raised no objections.”

  Behice threw her arms around her husband’s neck. “But why did you wait until now to give me the good news—why didn’t you tell me the moment you came in?”

  “I’d intended to, but you were so preoccupied with your own affairs that I thought it prudent to resolve them first.”


  “I remember now, you said you had something to tell me. But how could I know it would be so tremendous? You spoke so calmly. Is that any way to deliver this sort of news? Well all I can say is, may your new station bring joy and prosperity. To your country and your family. Does Saraylıhanım know?”

  “How could she? I haven’t even seen her today. I’ll tell her tomorrow morning.”

  “What about Kemal?”

  “Kemal and I had less pleasant matters to discuss.”

  “Am I the only one who knows?”

  “In our family, yes.”

  Behice inwardly rejoiced now over Saraylıhanım’s decision to allow Mehpare to leave the house today. If the old woman hadn’t taken to her bed early, she would surely have been the first to learn of the promotion. But this time it was Behice who had been told. And that was as it should be.

  “We’ll tell everyone tomorrow morning,” she sang. “And Reşat, shall we send a telegram to Beypazarı?” As she rested her head on her pillow Behice couldn’t help but marvel at her father’s foresight. Throngs of wealthy suitors had lined up to claim her hand, but her father had declared: My daughter has no need for goods and chattels. The marriage I arrange will secure her future. Sight unseen, he’d decided to give his daughter to a promising young civil servant, one related to their neighbors and the son of an Istanbul family. And how right he’d been! Thanks to her father, Behice would arise from bed the following morning as the wife of a minister. She was flushed with excitement, no longer the least bit sleepy. As she drew her body closer to her husband’s, she shyly sought his mouth and, for the first time in ages, felt his lips respond to hers. It was as though he were eager to shrug off all the unhappy developments of that eventful day. Reşat pressed his lips against his wife’s and, when he lowered himself onto her warm body, he was astonished to find how very much he had missed her.

  – 4 –

  March 1920

  The following morning, Reşat Bey shared the news of his promotion with the other members of his household. Saraylıhanım received her nephew’s announcement with an air of indifference, as though she’d expected no less. “Reşat, my boy, the position has been yours in all but name, it’s only natural that they give you the title you deserve,” she calmly pronounced. “God has willed that my family shall continue to be of service to the state. Come here, my dear, and let me kiss your forehead.”

  As Reşat Bey rose from his chair his daughters leapt up with cries of joy, kissing their father’s hand and embracing him. After permitting his aunt to kiss his forehead, he ceremoniously kissed her right hand and briefly drew it up to his brow.

  “Don’t neglect your prayers, mother,” he said. “We’ll need them more than ever now.”

  “Well, I rose early this morning to perform my ablutions and to read passages from the Koran for you,” Behice interjected resentfully.

  “A mother’s blessings are superior to all others,” said Saraylıhanım, “for motherhood is itself blessed.”

  “But I’m a mother, too,” Behice protested.

  Saraylıhanım failed to hear her.

  Upon hearing the news, Mehpare, Housekeeper Gülfidan, Hüsnü Efendi and the other servants lined up to express their congratulations. Having been shut up in his room all day, only Kemal remained ignorant of the promotion, until Mehpare told him.

  As Ahmet Reşat was leaving the room his aunt went up to him and asked: “Shall I tell Kemal? He’ll be so proud of you.”

  “I doubt it,” responded Reşat Bey.

  “How can you say that! Kemal loves you like a father.”

  “I need more than affection, aunt; what I want is obedience.”

  “I’ll speak to him. I’ll explain that as the nephew of a minister he’ll have to be more prudent.” “Don’t waste your breath.”

  “Please, Kemal isn’t a child. Don’t you think he knows that everyone will be watching us? May Allah protect my family from the evil eye. I’d best have some frankincense burned today.”

  “You’re exaggerating, aunt. Nothing has changed. Today I’ll be charged with performing the same duties in the same office as before. The only thing that’s different is my title.”

  “Godspeed and return in good health, my lion,” Saraylıhanım said, nudging Behice aside as she lightly patted her nephew on the back.

  Stepping outside, Ahmet Reşat turned up the collar of his coat. The sun had dispatched all of the snow, transforming the street into a sea of mud. Warmer weather was clearly on the way. With hansom cabs so difficult to find these days, he had no choice but to walk to work again this morning. Taking care not to spatter the cuffs of his trousers, he strode across the cobblestones.

  Behice looked on, astonished, as Mehpare, clearing the breakfast dishes, tipped over a glass and spilled some tea. The girl was like a sleepwalker, her face chalk-white, eyes bloodshot. The poor thing must still be reeling at having been rebuked, Behice decided. Perhaps we were a bit harsh? She’d only been following orders. The poor thing was a slave to Saraylıhanım’s every whim. And it had been Kemal who sent her to the bombing, Saraylıhanım who had assented. What was the girl’s crime? She’d always been respectful. She’d lovingly cared for Leman and Suat all these years. She’d at stood at Kemal’s bedside, vigilant, uncomplaining. Suddenly, Behice deeply regretted having informed her husband of Mehpare’s transgression.

  “Mehpare,” she softly said. There was no response. “Mehpare, are you deaf, my girl?”

  “Ah . . .” The girl had been startled from her trance. “Yes, what is it, Behice Abla?”

  “What is it, my lamb? What’s come over you?” Mehpare flushed scarlet, head bowed, eyes lowered. “Did Reşat Bey treat you roughly last night?”

  “I deserved it, efendim. I shouldn’t have gone without his knowledge.”

  “What’s done is done. Next time, come and tell me of your troubles, not Saraylıhanım. She’s not as young as she was, and her misjudgments cause trouble for all of us.”

  “As you wish, efendim.”

  “Mehpare,” Behice continued, “Leman has some ironing, and as Zehra won’t be coming today I wondered if you wouldn’t . . .”

  “Of course I will, Behice Abla. Kemal Bey doesn’t need me as much anymore. He can take care of himself now, thank God. And anyway, he doesn’t want to be waited on.”

  “If he’s fully recovered, why are you giving him medicine? Does he still have a cough?”

  “He’s coughing less, but there are the restorative syrups prescribed by the doctor. And, as you know, I’ve been told to administer drops to soothe his nerves and help him sleep . . .”

  “You’d still better keep his cutlery and dishes separate,” Behice cut in. “Better safe than sorry.”

  “All right,” Mehpare said, turning toward the kitchen with a large, round tray of empty tea glasses and dishes; and promptly collided with Saraylıhanım, who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. Mehpare stumbled and fell to her knees; the contents of the tray crashed to the floor. Suat had a fit of the giggles and clapped her hands.

  “Shameful,” Behice scolded her youngest daughter. “Help her pick everything up.”

  “No, stay back. You’ll cut your hand, there are splinters of glass everywhere,” Mehpare said.

  “I can’t help her anyway,” Suat said, “I’m late for school as it is. You haven’t even braided my hair yet.”

  “Very well, go to my room and get a comb,” Behice said.

  “What’s wrong with you this morning?” Saraylıhanım demanded of Mehpare, who was down on all fours, plucking slivers of glass and shards of crockery from the carpet. “Earlier, you nearly fell down the stairs.”

  Mehpare fled the room with her tray of fragments.

  “She must have been shaken by yesterday’s disturbance,” Behice said.

  “There’s no point in exaggerating all that,” Saraylıhanım said. “It was an unfortunate coincidence.”

  “Reşat Bey doesn’t think so.”

  “Reşat Bey is
looking for any pretext to vent his anger,” Saraylıhanım said. “This endless winter has told on his nerves. And everyone else’s.”

  “Reşat Bey’s nerves are not contingent on the weather,” Behice retorted. “He’s been upset by the state of the country, and unpleasantness at home only exacerbates his state of mind. Never mind—we’ve all held up as best we could. And now we’re coming to the end.”

  “The end of what?” Saraylıhanım asked. “The deterioration of the country or the unpleasantness at home?”

  Behice had no idea what to say.

  “We women can’t be expected to understand affairs of state. But if you’re referring to our domestic duties, we’ll be sending Kemal to Beypazarı soon. And then you’ll be able to breathe easy.”

  “How can you say that, Saraylıhanım? How could Kemal’s absence possibly please me? He’s like a brother to me.”

  “Brothers are treated with kindness and compassion when they fall ill.”

  “Didn’t I tend him when he came back from Sarıkamış? I’d have expected a little more understanding from you. With two little girls in the house, an infectious disease . . .”

  Saraylıhanım interrupted.

  “Those two little girls of yours have long since become young women.”

  “They’ll always be my little girls,” Behice sniffed, rushing from the room. It was just like Saraylıhanım, she fumed, denying her the opportunity to savor Reşat’s news. But the odd thing was, she was no longer certain how pleased she was by his promotion. Yes, she felt extremely proud, but then why this strange sense of trepidation? She settled onto the divan in the sitting room and extracted a thin sheet of paper from a silver cigarette case, carefully placed a bit of tobacco onto it, wet the edges of the paper with the tip of her tongue, leaned over to light it on one of the coals still glowing in the brazier, and filled her lungs with aromatic smoke. She had just released a soothing stream of it when the agitated housekeeper burst into the room. Am I never to enjoy a little peace of mind, Behice thought to herself, and said, “What is it now?”