It's Just Lola

by Dixiane Hallaj

  Lola couldn’t believe her ears. Marriage? She couldn’t breathe. She should say something, but she couldn’t make her mouth move. Her tongue was paralyzed. Marriage! That was her dream—to have her very own family. Mehmet was offering her the fulfillment of her most secret dream. Only minutes before she had been worried that he would turn them all out into the street in the middle of the night—and now she had an offer of marriage from a kind wonderful man who made her laugh and who cared for her. She already knew him better than her sisters had known their husbands when they married. She and Mehmet had spoken together for hours—and enjoyed it. She should say something.

  “Don’t answer now. I know this is too sudden, and marriage is a lifetime commitment. You should think about it.” Mehmet came over to Lola’s chair and took her hand. She let him lead her to the settee. She was numb with shock? Surprise? Pleasure? Words flowed from Mehmet’s mouth like water that had found a crack in a dam.

  “I fell in love with Estela the first time I saw her sleeping in that vegetable crate, and I thought you were her older sister. I used to come to see Estela, and I was so impressed with how bright and interesting you were that it wasn’t long before Estela took second place in my heart.

  “When I knew I wanted more than our lunch hour conversations, I tried to find out more about you. It was a simple thing to follow you home and find out that you and your sister were highly regarded by the others in the house. You weren’t one of them, but you didn’t look down on them for their profession. La Señora gave you high marks for obeying the rules and being helpful and generous.

  “They told me about the man who brought you work every week. It only took a few coins to get everything he knew. He’d have sold his mother for a handful of coins. You were right—even a whorehouse would be better than living under that man’s thumb.” Lola had to smile at that remark.

  The smile relieved her shock, and she realized she was so thirsty her tongue was sticking to the roof of her mouth. How could she interrupt this moment for something as irrelevant as a drink of water? “Can I get you coffee?” she asked.

  Mehmet gave a low chuckle. “Yes, if you join me.”

  Lola went to the kitchen to make coffee—and get her water. She turned as she heard Mehmet behind her. He was walking on his tiptoes and holding out his arms to keep his balance. She put her hands over her mouth to stifle her giggles. This was no time for giggles.

  “I changed my mind,” whispered Mehmet.

  “What? You don’t want to marry me?”

  He rested his hands lightly on her shoulders and put his face very close to hers. “No, my little innocent, I’ll never, ever change my mind about wanting you to be my wife.” Lola thought she was drowning in his dark brown eyes. She felt warmth spread from her shoulders where his hands rested. “I changed my mind about the coffee. It’s late and I’ve been walking since I stormed out of the shop this morning—or rather yesterday morning. It took me a long time to decide what to say next. Now that I’ve told you what is in my heart, I’m suddenly too tired to stand—and you still have to get up early because Luis is counting on you.” Only his hands on her shoulders kept Lola from leaning into him and putting her arms around him. “We can talk more tomorrow when you’ve had time to think about what I said.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Enriqueta’s voice came to Lola through a fog of sleep. “Lola, did I have a weird dream last night, or did you tell me you were going to marry Mehmet?”

  Lola’s eyes flew open and she sat up straight—wide awake. Marriage! She grabbed Enriqueta in a tight hug.

  “Oh, yes, Enriqueta—he wants to marry me.”

  “When?”

  “I don’t know. He wouldn’t let me accept the offer last night. He said we needed to talk more, but I can’t imagine why.”

  Lola went through the morning waiting on customers, so nervous that she caught herself making mistakes and began doing all the arithmetic twice—just to make sure. She kept glancing across the street, impatient to see Mehmet again.

  Her breath caught in her throat when he stepped onto the street. It was amazing how much difference it made when she imagined him to be “husband” instead of “friend.” When he was merely her friend, she didn’t notice what he wore or how he walked. She had asked about his country because it was interesting to learn of other countries. Now she wondered about him. What was he like as a child? What games did he play? Did he even play? She smiled as she thought there must be enough questions to make interesting conversation for the rest of their lives.

  “Lola, my dear, I came to rescue you from Concha’s cooking today.”

  “But Concha’s cooking is very good. Besides, I have to wait for Luis.”

  “Luis is here,” said Luis as he entered the shop.

  Lola grabbed her shawl as Mehmet offered his arm. “Where are we going?”

  “To a café for lunch.”

  Lola stopped in mid-step. “Is it acceptable for me to go there with you?”

  Mehmet’s warm infectious laugh gave Lola a thrill of happiness. “Yes, it’s perfectly acceptable. The café is one place that we can be alone and still be perfectly proper because we’re surrounded by other people. It’s common to see men and women eat together there.”

  Lola nodded and kept walking. She wasn’t sure what a café was, but she’d displayed enough ignorance for one day. They walked to the café and Mehmet ordered food for both of them.

  “Lola, there are things about me that you have a right to know before you make your decision. My life isn’t exactly as you might suppose. Remember, I’m from a very different culture and my religion isn’t the same as yours.”

  “But you do have a religion? You do believe in God?”

  “Yes, indeed. We believe in the same God you do. Our values and our ideas of right and wrong are very much like yours. The differences between the two religions aren’t in the basic beliefs, but in the attending rules and rituals decreed by the men who attempt to interpret the religions for us. However, that’s not what I fear may be unacceptable to you.”

  “Is there something you think I’ll find unacceptable?”

  “Not that I think you may find unacceptable—I merely fear you may find it unacceptable. I hope that you’ll hear me out before you judge me.”

  “Of course.”

  “My father captained ships to the Americas for many years, but he lost his life and his ship in a terrible storm while trying to round Cape Horn when I was quite young. The owner of the ship took me into his own home and educated me. As you may imagine, I was, and am, deeply grateful to him.”

  “You were fortunate to have such a generous benefactor.”

  “Yes. However, he understood his duty to me rather differently than I did. He was a widower with no desire to remarry, and no sons. He decided that I should wed his daughter to insure that he wouldn’t be left alone in his old age. He trained me in the business, and I was proud that he was grooming me to be his successor.

  “I was very young and I’d have done anything to please him. His daughter was nice enough, and she did her duty, producing three fine sons in the first three years of our marriage. I was very proud of them.” Mehmet got a faraway look in his eyes.

  “After the birth of our third son, my father-in-law gave me a promotion and sent me to start a branch in the Americas. It was two years before I was able to get home. By then my boys had almost forgotten who I was, and my wife made it quite clear that I was interrupting her schedule. My father-in-law congratulated me on a job well done and sent me back here as soon as he could. Then I understood that my real job in that house was not to be his successor, but to provide him with a grandson who would be his heir.”

  “How sad,” said Lola.

  Mehmet smiled. “But then I met you and your daughter. I told you I fell in love with Estela first. Holding her in my arms reminded me of all I was missing. As time went by I knew that you were the woman that I wanted in my life.” Lola returned his smile and felt warm inside a
s she looked at him. “I decided to go back and get things sorted out. My own sons called me Uncle Mehmet. When I said I intended to remarry my father-in-law was very generous and my wife seemed relieved as she wished me well.”

  “So you got a divorce? And you know that my religion forbids divorce?”

  “No, I didn’t get a divorce. My society does not welcome divorced women, and my father-in-law would never allow anything that might cause his daughter, and by extension his family, to be thought of poorly.” Mehmet paused and looked closely at Lola before continuing. “My religion differs from yours in that it accepts that a man can marry more than one woman.” Only a sharp intake of breath indicated that Lola had heard him. “Lola, I know it sounds barbaric to you, but think about it. Your religion says that a man must take only one wife, yet your society openly allows men to keep mistresses, whose children are stained with the stigma of illegitimacy. Is that less barbaric? My wife is a wife in name only.” His mouth twisted into a bitter grimace. “She doesn’t welcome my presence in the house. In my mind it’s no longer a marriage at all. It may never have been a marriage, but merely a convenience.” He reached across the table and put his hand on hers. “Lola, if you marry me I promise to be faithful to you in every way. I love Estela and it would please me beyond measure to be her father. She is a true gift.”

  If Lola had made a list of all the possible things Mehmet might have said, the fact that he had another wife would never have made the list, however long it was. She’d been expecting Mehmet to assure her that he could support her and was a person of good character. Maria’s callers had always talked about such things. Of course she’d found it boring and had spent her time trying to distract Enriqueta by making funny faces when no one was looking. “Your father-in-law was cruel and unscrupulous to take your children from you.”

  “No, actually he’s a proud and honorable man, and he raised me to be an honorable man. That’s why I insisted that you hear my story before you make a decision about marriage. I know my ways aren’t the same as yours, and you could find this an unacceptable state of affairs. My honor also impelled me to tell him and his daughter of my intention to remarry. A less honorable man might have married you and continued doing business as usual. How would a wife on one side of the world know about a wife on the other side?”

  “I didn’t say you were dishonorable, Mehmet. I said your father-in-law was cruel and unscrupulous.”

  “He brought me into his house as an act of charity. I had no one. When my father left on what became his last voyage, my mother was expecting a child. Neither mother nor child survived the birth. My father-in-law gave me an education and a good position. The fact that he had his own reasons for doing so doesn’t make it unworthy. Without him I’d surely have died on the streets of Constantinople.” Lola nodded. “When a girl-child marries, she produces heirs for her husband’s family. He needed those children to remain in his family. Do you see that?”

  Lola thought of how her own father had chosen husbands for his eldest daughters. He chose men of good family, but younger sons with little or no prospects of having land of their own. He said it was to insure the future of his daughters. No matter what happened they would always own the land. Now she considered it from a different point of view. He was forcing the sons-in-law into his family; regardless of the name they carried, the children would be an extension of his family. He sacrificed huge parcels of his own land to insure the continuity of the family.

  “He sounds very much like my own father,” said Lola. “But I don’t think my father would have sent you away and kept the children.” Wouldn’t he? He sent his own children away to preserve the honor of the family. How much easier it would be to send a son-in-law who didn’t carry his blood. “But maybe he would,” she said, remembering how polite and respectful her sisters’ husbands were to him.

  “So you do understand,” Mehmet said. “And do you also understand that it was his honor that allowed me to return to you? A man with his wealth can easily arrange a convenient accident.”

  Lola shook her head. “Our ways may not be as different as you think. Judging by our society, I think he has a strong interest in keeping you alive. As a widow his daughter would be free to remarry and take her children with her. Your life keeps her, and her children, forever tied to him.”

  Mehmet nodded slowly. “I never thought of that.” He smiled at Lola. “I knew you weren’t just beautiful but exceptionally clever. So tell me about your father that you say resembles the man who raised me.”

  Lola moved her chair back from the table. “It’s time to go. The clinic’s probably open, and the doctor will be wondering where I am.”

  “Doctor? Are you ill?” Lola smiled at his stricken expression.

  “No, I’m not ill. I forgot how long you’ve been gone. Walk me to the clinic and I’ll tell you all about it as we go.”

  ~ ~ ~

  “How do you know he’s telling the truth?” asked Enriqueta that night after the little girls were asleep.

  “He could’ve claimed he was single. How would I have known the difference? You see how he is with the girls. I know he’ll be a good husband and father.”

  “Have you no memory at all? What happened the last time a man told you a sad tale and tied it up with an I-love-you bow?”

  “This is different. Mehmet’s a kind wonderful man and…and I think I love him already.” Lola gave her sister a serene smile.

  “So he bared his soul and told you all his secrets. Did you tell him your secrets?” Lola bit her lip and turned her face from her sister’s penetrating eyes. “That’s a no, isn’t it?”

  “I didn’t lie to him.” Lola wanted to beg Enriqueta to stop making her feel bad. She’d been so excited and happy about Mehmet, and now she felt ashamed. “How could I tell him? He wants to marry me, and he’s a wonderful person. How could I admit that I lied about having a husband who died of...what was it again? Malaria or yellow fever?”

  “It was yellow fever, and you’re a terrible liar.”

  Lola’s embarrassment changed to fear. “I pray that I don’t have to talk about it. He asked a little about Father, but seemed content not to press the matter. I just couldn’t live with the shame of having him know.”

  “You must do what you think is right for you and Estela. I truly hope you’re not making a mistake. I’d hate to see my little sister hurt again.” Enriqueta gave Lola a kiss on her cheek. “Rosita’s coming for a fitting tomorrow. I’ll see if she can give me some advice on finding a place to live.”

  “No, Enriqueta, you mustn’t leave. Mehmet says he still has to travel a lot, even if he doesn’t go back to Turkey. He says you should stay to keep me company when he’s gone.”

  “Really? It was his idea?”

  “Yes. He was very clear that he’ll travel with an easy heart if he knows I won’t be alone all the time. He’s going to try to build up a business of his own trading within the Americas. He’s convinced that all his business with Turkey will be lost once his sons get old enough to take his place. He thinks that may be why his father-in-law was generous when he left. Anyway, he says it’s good for Estela to have Blanca to play with. In his country, brothers often live in the same house, and their children are raised together. Of course, he enjoys your company, too.”

  “You just make sure he doesn’t intend to enjoy my company too much. If he thinks I’m in line to be wife number three, he’s sadly mistaken.”

  “How could you even think such a thing?”

  “Sorry, dear sister,” Enriqueta stroked Lola’s hair. “Thank your husband-to-be for his kind generosity. I’ll gladly stay as long as you need me or want me around—but I still want a lock on my bedroom door.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Mehmet and Lola were married in a civil ceremony with Luis and Enriqueta signing as witnesses. Concha made them all a special meal, and Tía Francisca brought up a cake. Enriqueta started yawning shortly after dining and retired early, taking the children with her.


  Once they were alone, Mehmet picked Lola up and walked toward the bedroom with a big grin on his face. Lola was suddenly very nervous. Her cheeks grew hot as he set her on the bed. Was she supposed to undress in front of him?

  “I’ll give you some time alone,” he whispered as his lips brushed her cheek. “I’ll change in the bathroom.” He turned off the lamp before joining her in the bed. Lola was so tense that she jumped when Mehmet touched her.

  “Lola, don’t be afraid. I don’t know what terrible things may have happened to you before we met—”

  “I was—“ He stopped her with a finger on her lips. Lola had never been so relieved to be interrupted. She didn’t really know how she would have completed the sentence. She could tell that he thought she was a victim of violence and that she had been hurt. Well, she was a victim, wasn’t she? And she had been hurt, even if there were no bruises. But this was not the time to think about it. This was her wedding night.

  Mehmet reached out and stroked her cheek. “I don’t need to know. If you wanted to tell me, you’d have told me. I don’t ever want you to do anything you don’t want to do. Your actions tell me all I need to know about your character—from the way you managed Luis’s store when he needed you, to your pretty blush a few minutes ago. Our life starts today—and I promise I’ll never do anything to hurt you.” Very gently he pulled her close and embraced her. Their lips met, and the heat Lola felt was not confined to her cheeks.

  ~ ~ ~

  The apartment acquired an atmosphere of happiness that brightened life for all of them. When Mehmet came home from work, the girls would run to him squealing for piggyback rides. Mealtimes sparkled with humor and companionship.

  A few weeks after the wedding, Enriqueta asked Lola to go for a walk.

  “I think I was married to Miguel Rodriguez, a blacksmith. He died in a forge fire that also burned down our house,” said Enriqueta.

  Lola laughed. “What happened to the simple farmer who died of yellow fever?”

  “Unless the house burned down, I’d have something to show. That’s what was wrong with yellow fever—that and the simple farmer part.”