Ali stayed with his mom until Grandma told us it was time to go and get Jale Hanım.
We got into a normal taxi, because Jale Hanım said she “can’t be bothered with a shared taxi or a bus, not in this heat.” She even said she’d pay for it, which is shameful, but that’s what Jale Hanım does.
“And then I read that Princess Caroline is no angel, either. You remember her husband’s escapades in Turkey with that Italian tramp? Well, she wasn’t about to take it lying down. Apparently, she was caught wining and dining with the son of a famous film director.”
“Please don’t, Jale Hanım. Not in front of the driver.”
“What’s wrong with that? Everybody talks about everything these days. At least it’s normal, what goes on between a man and a woman. It’s when a man and another man—”
“Jale Hanım! The children!”
“Little kids know everything. Stop acting like a spinster schoolmistress, Nejla Hanım. The times are changing. Loosen up. And listen to this … Why are you covering your ears? It’s about Cavit Bey.”
“What happened to Cavit Bey?”
“Oh, you’re all ears when it comes to Mr. Vanishing Cream. Well, someone at the hairdresser’s told me he’s leaving his wife. My source has been using his creams for decades and knows what she’s talking about.”
“At his age?”
“What’s his age got to do with it? He’s a fine figure of a man. A little bird told me you might want to know he’ll soon be single.”
“I implore you, Jale Hanım. We can talk about this later, just the two of us.”
“My dear Nejla Hanım, I do believe you’ve gone all pink. Okay, we’ll talk later. Chauffour, we’re getting out just before Swan Park. A brisk walk will do wonders for our legs.”
“It’s pronounced ‘chauffeur,’ Jale Hanım.”
“You old-timers really crack me up. Forever correcting everyone’s Turkish. And anyway, in case you didn’t realize, ‘chauffeur’ isn’t even Turkish. It’s French. You’re a funny old gal, Nejla Hanım. I’ll give you that.”
I tried to hold Ali’s hand when we got out. But only because Grandma told me to! He pushed my hand away and stuck his hands in his pockets. As if I wanted to hold his dumb hand! I don’t care. Then I put my arm around his shoulder. He tried to shake it off, but I kept it there.
“I got the silkworms into Parliament. You can’t get cross with me! What’s the matter? Is it because you didn’t do your jobs?”
“You don’t know.”
“What don’t I know?”
Grandma and Jale Hanım are walking so slow. Me and Ali are in out front of them. Grandma holds back her shoulders and looks straight ahead when she’s walking. Jale Hanım keeps taking her arm because she wants to look at the shop windows. When Grandma stops, she smoothes her clothes in the window. Grandma doesn’t want Jale Hanım to take her arm, but there’s nothing she can do.
“Oh, look over there, Nejla Hanım. It’s the famous Goya shoe shop. It’s pricey, but they have a layaway plan.”
“Who would pay that kind of money for a pair of shoes? It’s an extravagance and a waste, Jale Hanım.”
“But look at the lamé ones. They’d go great with the dress I want for Feride’s engagement party.”
On the walls between the shop windows there are posters of men and women. Some say WANTED and others say THEY WERE BURIED IN THE SUN, all in big letters. Me and Ali look at the posters while Jale Hanım and Grandma look at the windows.
—
I wish Ayşe would leave me alone. I want to see if Hüseyin Abi’s on any of the posters. She keeps getting between me and the posters. Then, when I go to posters farther along, she follows me.
“Ali, what don’t I know?”
“Shhh.”
“What don’t I know?”
“Do you know what this is?”
“M-L-S-P. It’s easy. I course I know.”
“But what does it mean?”
“You don’t know, either!”
“I do so!”
“Ayşe, I hope you children aren’t quarreling.”
Jale Hanım takes Grandma by the elbow and leads her to another shop window.
“Would you mind helping me pick out some fabric? You’ve got such a good eye for quality, Nejla Hanım. I want something super classy but eye-catching, for Feride’s engagement party.”
Ali went up ahead to look at more posters. I followed him.
—
Ayşe’s got her hand on her hip again.
“Why do you keep pestering me? And why don’t you ask about the butterflies? I did it for you.”
She’s going to cry. Her chin’s getting all crinkly.
I need to get away, so I walk a little. I look back, and she’s still standing there. Nobody’s looking at her. Her grandmother and that woman are looking at the shop windows. People are passing, but they don’t look. They don’t really see her, not like I do. She’s there, in all that noise. If some fascists came, she wouldn’t know how to run away. A real revolutionary wouldn’t do this. I’m sure of it. They wouldn’t leave a crying girl. I go back and take her hand. We walk along to the next wall and look at the posters. She’s still crying, but only because she started and now she can’t stop, not yet. Soon, she’s done. She sniffs.
“If only you’d seen the butterflies. It was so beautiful.”
“I’m glad you saw it.”
“Are all these people lost?”
“No. They’re pictures of the brothers and sisters the police are looking for. If they find them, they’ll torture them. They’ll give them to the fascists. They’ll hogtie them and throw their bodies in a ditch. That’s why.”
“But where are they? I bet I know!”
“Where?”
“They went where the swans fly!”
Maybe Ayşe’s not so dumb after all.
—
Me and Ali looked at all the pictures on all the posters. Sometimes we ran back and looked at the posters again. “He’s not here,” Ali said. I asked him who, and he said, “Hüseyin Abi. I guess they’re not looking for him.”
“Nejla Hanım, let’s get the kids some ice cream. They’ll enjoy that. That poor boy has probably never had ice cream in his whole life.”
Ali heard her. I took his hand. “She’s stupid,” I said. “Don’t listen to her.” They got us ice cream, even though Ali didn’t want any.
“Nejla Hanım, I don’t think you should give up on Cavit Bey. He’s the right age. He’s getting a divorce. He’s the perfect gentleman. What is there to keep you two lovebirds apart?”
“He’d never leave his wife.”
“What makes you say that? You’re a funny one, you are. Maybe his wife’s leaving him. It’s not like men never leave their wives.”
“What would you have me do?”
“Now that’s more like it! A positive attitude. Just relax a little. Once you relax, things take care of themselves.”
We could see Swan Park just a little way away. Ali doesn’t know how to eat ice cream. It keeps running onto his hand from his cone. I show him how to lick the edges. He doesn’t listen to me, though. It bothers him when he doesn’t know something. As we walk into the park, Jale Hanım holds Grandma’s arm even tighter.
“Let me help you, Nejla Hanım. And if you’d like, you can do me a favor in return. But only if you like.”
“A favor?”
“My dress. It’s impossible to find a decent seamstress these days. You’re old school. You’d be meticulous and make something refined. Who could be more accomplished than a graduate of the advanced technical school for girls, like yourself. Your generation was really something else.”
“My, you do go on, Jale Hanım. All you had to do was ask.”
We were walking through the park with our ice creams. Jale Hanım and Grandma sat on a bench. We were going to look at the swans, but Ali ran over to a wall. He looked at the posters. Jale Hanım kept smiling and talking.
“And then
, when Bülent appeared on stage, the audience started chanting—you’re going to love this—chanting, ‘Take it off! Take it off!’ Well, the poor guy had a nervous breakdown, right there, on the spot. He left the stage in tears.”
“What a shame.”
“A shame? What do you mean, Nejla Hanım? Think of how much money he earns a night. And he doesn’t pay any taxes. It’s in all the papers.”
We were looking and looking at the posters when Ali dropped his ice cream. His hand stayed in the air. We were standing in front of the wall in Swan Park.
“Hüseyin Abi! So they are looking for him!”
Jale Hanım came up behind us. “Poor dear,” she said, pulling out a handkerchief and wiping Ali’s hand. Ali didn’t move. “You poor little boy,” she said. “Don’t cry. I’ll get you another one. And it was your very first ice cream. I feel so sorry for you.” Ali didn’t even look at Jale Hanım. He looked at me. I ran up and held his hand. We went over to the swans. I was still holding my ice cream, but that was okay. The only thing that mattered was that Jale Hanım didn’t see Ali crying.
—
Revolutionaries don’t cry, so when Hüseyin Abi looked out at me from the poster I went over to the swans. It got crowded everywhere when a truck with SCHWEPPES on the side drove up. There were women and kids in the back of the truck. Up on top of the truck, men were throwing out these Schweppes plates. People were trying to catch them.
—
They started throwing out Frisbees from the Schweppes truck. I remembered seeing them at Jale Hanım’s, in Weekend: “The American craze that’s wholesome fun for the whole family.” You throw it into the air and it spins and spins as it flies. I don’t feel like watching them now, not when Ali’s crying, but the Frisbees are all different colors and everyone is yelling and screaming.
—
“Throw it to me,” they’re all yelling. It’s so loud. Nobody knows that they’re looking for Hüseyin Abi. Only Ayşe knows. She’s a good girl, really. She knows a lot of things. The only way I can save the swans is with her. I’m sure of that.
“Since you found some rope, I’m ready to do my jobs, too. I didn’t think you’d be able to do it.”
“Why not?”
“Because you don’t have a Hüseyin Abi and because your mother won’t ever leave you with someone else.”
“You don’t know that! They don’t love me very much. I mean, not a whole lot. My grandmother loved me a lot but now she’s sick or something.”
“Maybe they’ll love you more if we save the swans.”
“Maybe.”
—
“Here! Throw it to me!” they’re all yelling. Nobody’s looking at the posters. They all have their backs to the wall, so they can’t see Hüseyin Abi. Maybe they’d get scared if they saw him. They make so much noise that the swans all run away to the hut in the middle of the lake. We’ll save them.
“Ayşe, that’s the one we’ll save. See it? The little one flapping its wings.”
Jale Hanım is still laughing.
“It cracks me up every time I think of it. They’re all chanting, “Take it off!” like a bunch of soldiers at a strip show. But Bülent had it coming. The whole country’s coming unglued, and yet he prances around with his wigs and his makeup, off in his own world. That’ll teach him a lesson! He deserves far worse.”
Ali started playing with his strings. He’s scared we won’t be able to do it. When he gets scared, he plays with his strings. I had to say something.
“When we get home, shall I show you some secret letters? The writing is green. But they’re extra secret revolutionary letters. And there are some things in a big yellow envelope. My mother’s secret things.”
Everyone was yelling so loud Ali couldn’t hear me. He’s studying the swans. He’s so smart!
____________________
* Mahir Çayan and Sinan are heroes of the left.
UNIT 12
A Lie Never Lives to Be Old
Nobody Likes a Liar
When they did that, I started pushing the button on the laugh box. It was morning, and they were eating breakfast real fast, when Dad said to Mom, “Let’s have a drink and a little talk tonight. Just you and me.” Then, when Mom said to Dad, “Why? Is something wrong? What do you want to talk about?” and her tea glass shook in her hand, and they both went quiet, and they started jiggling their legs under the table, I went and pushed the button. The laughter stopped, so I pushed it again and again. They both yelled at me.
“Ayşe! Stop it!”
Grandma came into the kitchen. She was dressed, with red lipstick on, even. That’s because Jale Hanım said to her, “Let’s you and I go and visit Mr. Vanishing Cream together, this Saturday. Then you can stop brooding.”
“Good morning! Let’s have a good weekend, children!”
Mom and Dad shook their heads at Grandma. She crossed her arms on her belly.
“Jale Hanım and I arranged a little Saturday outing for today. I was thinking of taking Ayşe along.”
“Mother, speaking of Jale Hanım, what are you doing with that fabric? She’s not having you make a dress for her, is she?”
“Good morning, Sevgi! And a good morning to you, too, Aydın!”
Grandma looked a little cross when she went out into the hallway. Mom gathered up the plates and left them in the sink. She put her hands on the counter and leaned there for a bit. Dad went to touch her shoulder, but she turned around before he could. When she bumped into him, she said, “Excuse me,” and left the kitchen. Dad looked at me. He lit a cigarette and was about to go out onto the balcony when Mom poked in her head.
“Aydın.”
“Yes, dear?” Dad smiled.
“I was wondering … what was the name of Aliye Hanım’s husband? Ah, it just came to me: Hasan. Could you tell Hasan Bey that I’d like to take Ali and Ayşe to the theater next week? If he’ll bring Ali to Kızılay Square, we can meet there. In front of Gima.”
“Okay, Sevgi.”
The light went out in Dad’s face. I pushed the laugh button again. “Yay!” I yelled. Dad gave me a bad look. But I cried a lot last night and said I wouldn’t eat if Ali didn’t come. That’s why Mom said it. And because she’s sorry for what she did to Auntie Aliye. Of course, Dad doesn’t know that. When his face got dark, I went off to find Mom.
My mom and my grandma were hugging in the hallway. “Mother, you really should take Ayşe and go out for a while. Aydın and I need to talk,” Mom said. Grandma leaned close to Mom’s ear.
“Loneliness is hard, my girl. Never forget that!”
She was going to smooth Mom’s hair, but Mom did this kind of shake of her head. When neither said anything, I pushed the laugh button again, but only Grandma laughed.
“Sweetie! Go on, get dressed. You and I are going on a little trip.”
Mom didn’t smile.
Because I was looking at Mom, not her, Grandma clapped her hands on her knees.
“I’ll get Ayşe a candied apple, too. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
Mom went into her room. I didn’t feel like talking to her either. So I did it again, hah-hah, hee-hee, all up and down the hallway.
We stood in front of a shared taxi. All the people inside were looking at us. The driver yelled at Grandma.
“Ma’am, are you getting in or not?”
If I hadn’t tugged Grandma, she wouldn’t have got in. That’s because when we knocked on Jale Hanım’s door she said, “Oh no, it completely slipped my mind.” She had those round things on her hair, the ones ladies wear on TV to make their hair curly. “If I started getting dressed this minute, it would still take ages. Oh dear. What shall we do?”
Grandma just looked at her.
“Nejla Hanım, why don’t the two of you enjoy a day out and then we’ll go tomorrow?”
Jale Hanım is so stupid! Grandma got all small as we were going down the stairs. She was going to wipe off her lipstick, but she didn’t have her handkerchief. She curled
in her lips, stopped on the stairs and said, “Ayşe, my dear, perhaps we won’t go after all? I’ve suddenly grown weary.” I yelled, “No! Let’s go, Grandma.” She looked up the stairwell. Mom and Dad are talking, so we can’t go home, not now. She tried to wipe her lips on the inside of her hand, but it didn’t work. When we stepped out onto the street she did up her top button. We’d just started walking when the shared taxi to Citadel stopped in front of us. But she said, “Good gracious. Without Jale Hanım, I … All alone.” And then when the driver shouted, “Are you getting in or not?” I yelled, “Me and Grandma are coming.”
When we got into the shared taxi, Grandma became like before in the hamam. She was sad, so I needed to tell her a story, the kind of story that makes the scary feelings go away. Some stories can make the monster under the bed go “poof” and disappear. I held Grandma’s hands, the same way Jale Hanım did at the hamam. The shared taxi was jumping up and down, and it was noisy, but I told her a story anyway.
“Listen, Grandma. There was this girl. But she was a curly girl, so curly she thought about everything. You know, curly people think about mixed up, hard things. So, this girl had a friend. A boy. Grandma!”
She wasn’t looking at me, so I had to yell. But then everyone turned around and looked at us.
“But I got the butterflies into Parliament, still. When will they love me more, Grandma?”
Everybody clucked like chickens. Grandma said, “Driver, please let us out as soon as it’s convenient.”
The Citadel is up on top of the hill, but Grandma had us get out of the shared taxi early. “What’s come over you?” she asked. She leaned over. “Sweetie, what is it?” When grown-ups bend over me like that, I know it’s serious. I had to say something.
“Is it true that Ali’s never, ever coming to our house again?”
“You poor dear. Is that what’s upset you?”
Grandma took my hand. There’s a patisserie on that street with such nice things. She got me a candied apple. I love those candied apples in the beginning, but then, when I bite into it and those hard pieces of red sweetness cut into my mouth, it’s not at all nice, not one bit.
The Time of Mute Swans Page 25