Farewell: A Mansion in Occupied Istanbul (Turkish Literature)

by Kulin, Ayse

  Kemal cut her off. “That’s not what I’m talking about,” he said. “There’s something else you need to share with me.”

  “All right. I’ll be leaving a few days after you, going to Anatolia. I’ll be on the opposite shore, at the Özbek Dervish Lodge, for a couple of nights. When the convoy sets off, I’ll head straight for İzmir. And then . . .”

  “Mehpare!”

  “What?”

  “Tell me this: Are you pregnant?”

  Mehpare leapt from the bed and stood across from Kemal. Her almond eyes downcast, a look of dread on her face, she spoke in a low voice: “I don’t know, sir.”

  “What do you mean, you don’t know. What’s there not to know?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Well, after we summon the midwife tomorrow, you will be.”

  Mehpare sank to her knees and clasped Kemal’s legs. “I’m begging you sir, don’t touch my baby. I’ll leave immediately if that’s what you want. I’ll go to Anatolia before you do. You’ll never see me again. Don’t touch my baby and I’ll kiss the soles of your feet.”

  “How can you talk like that?” Kemal said as he seized her under the arms and struggled to pull her to her feet. She’d gone completely limp and her face glistened with sweat.

  “Mehpare, are you all right? You haven’t fainted, have you? Don’t you dare faint. Come on, lie down.”

  Kemal hauled Mehpare onto the bed and slid a pillow beneath her head.

  “Mehpare, what are you so afraid of? Is it Saraylıhanım?”

  “Sir, in God’s name, don’t touch my baby.”

  “Well, if you’re pregnant, the baby’s mine as much as yours. How could I let anything harm my own child?”

  Mehpare started crying. “You mean you’ll let me have it?”

  “Of course I will! We’ll get married as soon as possible, and you’ll bring our baby into the world.” Mehpare leaned her head against Kemal’s chest and began sobbing. “What kind of man do you take for me, Mehpare? A monster? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I was afraid you wouldn’t want it.”

  “Let’s say I didn’t. How did you expect to hide your condition?”

  “I’m going off to Anatolia in any case . . . I hoped to make my farewells and leave everything else in God’s hands.”

  “There’s no longer any need for you to go anywhere. We’ll get married this week before I leave this house.”

  “Married or not, I’m going to Anatolia. I’ll wait for you there. All I ask is that you write me a letter of permission.”

  “Impossible, Mehpare. I didn’t know you might be pregnant when we made our plans. Anatolia is no place for a woman with child. You can’t go.”

  “I’m strong. I’ll manage. Don’t leave me behind, I’ll be sick with worry.”

  “No. You’ll stay here, you’ll have our baby. This war will be just like all the others; it won’t last forever. Then we’ll be together. We’ll raise our child.”

  “I’d die without you.”

  “You won’t die, Mehpare. Neither of us will.”

  “Sir, please don’t leave me behind.”

  “Anatolia is turning into a bloodbath. The occupation forces are everywhere, marauding, wreaking havoc. Disease is rife. People are starving. How can you possibly expect to have a child under such conditions?”

  “What about you? How do you expect to survive such conditions?”

  “I’m not pregnant.”

  Mehpare started laughing. Kemal pulled the blanket over the two of them, blew out the candle and held Mehpare tight as he murmured, “Good night. Let’s get a good night’s sleep, the three of us. We’ll be busy tomorrow. I’ll give my uncle the good news. We’ll find a hodja, we’ll begin preparations for the wedding. We’ve got our work cut out for us.”

  “I wonder what Saraylıhanım will say about this?” Mehpare asked.

  “May God grant you both a lifetime of happiness, is what she’ll say.”

  “What about your uncle? Will he consent to the marriage?”

  “I’ll do everything I can to get his consent.” Kemal stared thoughtfully at the ceiling for a moment before saying, “I’ll give him no choice but to consent, Mehpare.”

  “Please don’t tell him about the baby, I’d die of shame.”

  “Don’t worry, we’re not telling anyone about the baby. But if Saraylıhanım realizes on her own, it’s out of our hands.”

  “They’ll all know the truth once it’s born; all I ask is to hold my head high until then.”

  “These are terrible times: its father is off to war; its mother is worried sick. It’d be perfectly normal for the baby to come early, don’t you think?”

  Silent, they lay in each other’s arms for a while. Then Mehpare quietly asked, “How did you know, sir?”

  “Nothing about you could ever escape my notice,” said Kemal.

  Mehpare snuggled closer to her lover. It wasn’t long before she’d fallen into her first untrou- bled sleep in months.

  When Ahmet Reşat walked into the selamlık, Kemal closed the windows and drew the heavy velvet curtains.

  “Are you chilly, son? It’s nice outside, why are you sealing us in like this?”

  “The matter we’ll be discussing is private. I don’t want anyone eavesdropping.”

  “Who could possibly hear us?”

  “Female eyes and ears haunt every nook and cranny of this house.”

  “Alright, out with it. What’s so urgent and private that you have to hide it from our women?”

  “The long-awaited news has arrived at last. I’ll be leaving the house on Friday.”

  “Oh?” was all Ahmet Reşat said; though he was shaken by the news, the face he presented to his nephew remained composed.

  “I’ll be traveling to the farm. There are numerous documents that need my attention: new identity papers have to be prepared for those traveling to Anatolia. Once we’ve procured sufficient arms, they’ll be shipped to the front—and, as you know, me with them.”

  “Kemal, I advised you against going to Sarıkamış, but you paid me no heed and barely escaped with your life. Once again, I’m going to advise you against leaving. But since I can’t stop you, I wish you a safe journey. Please keep us informed of your movements.”

  “When I leave for Anatolia I’ll send word to Beypazarı. They’ll be in touch with you. That way you won’t attract any unwanted attention, uncle.”

  “You’ve thought this through.”

  “Any news I send will be conveyed via Beypazarı. You have family there, and it’s only natural that you’d correspond regularly, isn’t it?”

  “It is.”

  “If I need money for any weapons we’re able to locate in Anatolia, I’ll ask you for help. ‘Sugar’ is the code for ‘arms’. There’s been a shortage of sugar in the city, and so it’s sent from Beypazarı. If any of my letters are to fall into the wrong hands one day, they mustn’t arouse suspicion.”

  “I doubt they’d read letters addressed to me. But it’s best to take precautions.”

  Uncle and nephew both seemed to recognize that they might not see each other for a very long time. They were sad, but content to sit in silence for a few moments, breathing the same air. Ahmet Reşat thought back to the first time he’d held Kemal. He’d become an uncle very young. As he stood there that day, cradling Kemal in his arms, absolutely terrified of hurting him, he’d known, along with everyone else, that the infant’s father would probably not be coming back. Ahmet Reşat would be the closest thing to a father Kemal ever knew. And as he gazed at the fully grown Kemal he wanted to blurt out, “Don’t go; stay here. And if you can’t work I’ll look after you but I couldn’t bear your death.” He said nothing for several minutes, but when he did speak it was with a quavering voice.

  “Son, they won’t be able to look after you like we have. Mind your health. Remember to take your medicine. I must have had a premonition of some kind: I’ve already asked the health minister if he’d help
locate some of the medicines we’ve been unable to find. He’s sending me a box tomorrow. Take it with you. You’ll never find any out in the countryside.”

  “Bless you, uncle.”

  They fell silent again. This time, Kemal was wondering where to begin. Plucking up courage, he finally said, “I have a favor to ask of you before I go.”

  “What? Do you need money?”

  “No. I need your blessing and your consent.”

  “You already have them.”

  “Uncle, there’s something else, something personal. I feel extremely abashed as I tell you this, but it’s time I confessed. I’ve fallen in love with Mehpare. With your permission, I’d like to marry her before I leave home.”

  Ahmet Reşat stared with his mouth open. “Marry Mehpare?”

  “Yes, uncle. With your permission.”

  “Mehpare’s like a daughter to us. She’s a blood relative, my boy. Would it be proper?”

  “She’s a distant relative. And it’s most fortuitous that she’s a member of our household. I leave confident that she’ll be provided for while I’m gone.”

  “Your grandmother would never allow it.”

  “I’m the one getting married, uncle.”

  “She raised you, Kemal. She’s within her rights.”

  “Saraylıhanım has pinned her hopes on an advantageous marriage for me. I’m ill; I’m wanted by the government; I’m about to embark on an adventure whose ending I can’t predict. No one would want me but Mehpare, be assured of that.”

  “My boy, if what you say is true, isn’t it rather hard on Mehpare?”

  “She’s as eager to get married as I am. We fell in love with each other when she was nursing me.”

  “I hope you realize that if you marry her over Saraylıhanım’s objections the girl’s life will be hell here. I myself wouldn’t want to assent to this marriage without first obtaining her consent. She is our elder.”

  “Don’t be anxious on that score. If you allow us to get married immediately, Mehpare will not remain here at home when I go to the farm. She’s going to Anatolia with Azra, to serve her country.”

  “What!”

  “You heard me, uncle. The daughters of every respectable family in the city are prepared to make the ultimate sacrifice. Plenty of them have traveled to the countryside to organize the village women and work behind the front lines.”

  “Good Lord, a girl from my house out wandering the roads . . .”

  “She’s going away to save her country, not to wander. You should feel honored, uncle.”

  “Abandoning home isn’t the only honorable way to serve the nation.”

  “Mehpare has another reason for leaving. When I’m sent to battle I’m going to have her join me. She’ll continue to look after me and my health.”

  “So that’s it! That’s what was behind Mehpare’s sudden desire to attend nursing classes.”

  “Don’t speak ill of her, uncle. She truly wished for her nursing skills to be of benefit to us all.”

  “Son, you seem to have arranged everything without consulting me,” said Ahmet Reşat. “Once you’re married she’s your responsibility. I won’t interfere. But if she weren’t your wife, I’d never let her set off on such an escapade.”

  “You’ll give us your blessing, won’t you?”

  “I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t,” Ahmet Reşat grumbled. “Were she to have run off after you without having been married first, how could I possibly look her family in the eye?”

  “It wouldn’t be your fault. She’s a grown woman. You’d simply explain that she was acting on her own.”

  “I hold myself responsible for any action taken by anyone under my guardianship. How else do you think you’ve managed to upset me so greatly over the years?”

  “Uncle, with your consent, I’ll arrange for Ömer Hodja to officiate at the nuptials. Again, with your consent, I’ll send Hüsnü Efendi to Aunt Dilruba’s to invite them to the ceremony. They can bring along their children and we can finish everything by Thursday.”

  “Arrange the hodja first, then we’ll send Hüsnü to Dilruba’s. Be certain to handle this before you leave home, Kemal,” Ahmet Reşat said resignedly.

  “As you wish, Uncle,” said Kemal, bending to kiss his hand.

  “Congratulations. May it bring you happiness.”

  “If it would upset you for Mehpare to go to Anatolia, I promise to persuade her to stay at home.”

  “I can’t approve of our girls rushing off to Anatolia. I don’t even want to think what could happen to a lone girl in a country at war, with soldiers everywhere. If Mehpare is determined to be of service, she can do it here, under my protection. She could work at a hospital in Istanbul. Why should she have to go out into the countryside?”

  “I’ll talk to her. I won’t allow her to go anywhere.”

  “It would be best.”

  “I have one more favor to ask,” Kemal said.

  Reşat Bey muttered a prayer as he peered at Kemal over his spectacles.

  “Would you break the news to Saraylıhanım?” asked Kemal, with a sheepish grin.

  “Enough! I’m not telling her!” protested Ahmet Reşat. “You made me break the news of your leaving; I’ve done quite enough. Either pluck up the courage to tell Saraylıhanım yourself, or start making other plans!”

  As Saraylıhanım left the kitchen, she called out, “Bring my coffee to the arbor, Mehpare.”

  “I’ll send it with Zehra, efendim,” Mehpare said as she looked up from the dolma she was busily preparing.

  “Bring it yourself.”

  “My hands smell like onion—your coffee cup would . . .”

  “Bring it yourself, I said.” Saraylıhanım had been exceedingly bad-tempered for the past two days. Putting aside her work, Mehpare lathered her hands with soap. Saraylıhanım was waiting under the arbor in a large wicker chair. Mehpare cautiously set the coffee on the end table and slowly raised her brown eyes to meet Saraylıhanım’s stern stare.

  “I know the reason for this wedding, Mehpare.” Mehpare lowered her eyes. “When I arranged for you to come to this house I thought you were an honorable girl, a clever girl.”

  “I am, efendim.”

  “An honorable girl would never do what you’ve done!” Mehpare waited with her eyes on the ground. “Regarding your cleverness, I have no doubt. May it serve you as well in the future.”

  “But I loved him, efendim. I loved him very much.”

  “Enough. I’d meant for Kemal to marry well. But you were too clever for me.”

  “Efendim . . .”

  “Don’t interrupt me. Now listen, Mehpare. No one knows about your condition, and no one will. I won’t have my nephew disgraced in his uncle’s eyes. I’ll speak to the midwife, handle everything myself. Şayeste and her ilk are not to set foot in this house. I hope you realize that. Distress at the absence of a distant husband will induce a premature birth. Do I make myself clear?”

  With burning cheeks and tear-filled eyes Mehpare replied, simply, “I understand, efendim.”

  “Tell me, how many months has it been?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean? Are you telling me you don’t know when this wicked act occurred?”

  Mehpare didn’t dare to say: If you mean the first time, of course, I know exactly when it happened. But I have no idea when I became pregnant. I was walking on air, oblivious to everything but him. She bit her lip, gazed at the ground.

  “Speak up! When did the bleeding stop?”

  “It’s never been regular . . . I’ve been queasy for about a month . . . While you were away at the island . . .” Mehpare stammered.

  “While we were at the summer house. Of course. I should have known. I wish we’d taken you with us. Foolish of me. Are you telling me you’re two months pregnant?”

  “I suppose so.”

  “I see. Now get out of my sight.”

  For a brief moment, Mehpare had to
lean on the table for support. Then she returned to the kitchen. She was guilty, and she knew it. But she had no regrets. Once Kemal left the house she’d be left to the mercy of Saraylıhanım, berated daily. When the child was born, anyone who took the time to make a few simple calculations would learn the truth and she could well end up without a friend in the house. She’d be known as the hussy who’d seduced the young master.”

  Well, wasn’t she?

  Of course she was. She’d done all she could, first to get Kemal to notice her, then to perpetuate his interest.

  No! She wasn’t a hussy. She’d hidden her love as she’d tended to her patient, and it was Kemal who’d kissed her. Kemal. It was he who had struck the match. She closed her eyes, remembering.

  “Mehpare Abla, are you all right?”

  “I’m fine, Zehra. I had a stabbing pain, but it’s gone now.”

  “Where?”

  “In my heart.”

  “There’s no fighting that sort of pain at your age,” the housekeeper laughed knowingly.

  Mehpare placed a pinch of mincemeat on top of a vine leaf and rolled it into a cylinder. Life behind the trenches, with all of those guns, those bullets, would be easier than life in this house. She was sure of that. But she’d endure anything for the sake of the baby. She’d deliver a healthy boy for Kemal. A boy? How did she know? Would it really be a boy? Of course. She would bear her darling a son. She felt it.

  – 11 –

  October 1920

  The wedding was held at home, three days before Kemal’s departure. Among the small circle of honored guests was Mehpare’s aunt, along with her daughters, Mualla and Meziyet, and her son, Recep, all of them there to spend the night. Around the bride’s neck they placed a “five in one,” the traditional necklace of five gold coins. Mehpare couldn’t help wondering which needy waif had been deprived so that she, the orphaned niece, would be able to receive such a valuable present. Her aunt had often told her how upset they’d been to send her off so young. “It was for your own good, Mehpare, so you wouldn’t have to suffer in poverty with the rest of us,” she’d always say. But if it was really for her own good, why hadn’t they sent one of their own children to Reşat Bey’s mansion?”