Endgame, page 10
I didn’t ask her why.
‘I was afraid,’ she said. ‘I was afraid it wouldn’t be so good.’ She looked up at me. ‘We’re lucky we found each other, aren’t we?’
‘We are,’ I said, feeling that we were truly fortunate.
I felt the warmth of her smile.
And we drifted off to sleep.
When I woke up it was close to noon. She was already up. She was standing in front of a mirror, wrapped in a sheet. She turned towards me, dropped the sheet and said, ‘Look at me. You’re an animal.’ I smiled, feeling strangely embarrassed but content. ‘What am I going to do about my face? I’ll have to cover it with foundation,’ she said, almost proud.
We had breakfast on a wooden balcony overlooking the trees. Below us the lake shimmered like a blue diamond on a ring. That’s what I said to her and she answered:
‘Couldn’t be a blue diamond. There’s no such thing.’
‘There is now,’ I said. ‘I just said it and so there it is. And not such a bad thing really, perfect for the lake. Something God must have missed, never got around to making one. If he could make a lake like that, surely he should have made a blue diamond too.’
We hungrily ate breakfast.
‘I feel closer to you now,’ she said. ‘But isn’t it strange to feel so close when I’m in love with another man?’
‘Everything about us is strange.’
‘But you know if Mustafa came here right now, and I had to make a decision, I’d choose you.’
‘Tomorrow?’
‘I don’t know about tomorrow.’
Her answer made me laugh; I don’t know why I found it funny but I just couldn’t help laughing.
‘Don’t laugh. It’s embarrassing.’
I leaned over and touched her cheek. ‘Don’t be. There’s no need to be when you’re with me. I’d never do anything to hurt you.’
‘I feel comfortable with you. As if I could do anything. I feel like you would never be angry with me.’
‘You can do whatever you want with me.’
‘Anything?’
‘Everything.’
‘You won’t ever forget saying that?’ she said, looking me in the eye.
‘I won’t.’
‘And I won’t fall in love with you?’ she said.
‘No, you won’t.’
‘Promise?’
‘Promise.’
‘If I fall in love with you then you’re the one to blame. Agreed?’
‘Agreed.’
After we finished breakfast she brought me inside. We made love again. This time it was calm and simple, like a glass of cognac after a rich meal, sending a pleasant glow through our bodies, lending a peaceful air to a savage night.
When I came out of the shower, she was putting on make-up in front of the mirror.
‘I’m going to the city,’ she said.
‘I’ll get dressed and leave then,’ I said, ‘and you can take your time getting ready.’
‘Fine,’ she said.
I got dressed and left.
I could never stand staying in a hotel room after making love; I don’t think there’s anything in the world more heart-breaking. I don’t think I’ve ever felt as lonely as I have in hotel rooms.
I walked cheerfully up the path.
I knew she was happy we weren’t leaving at the same time. She didn’t want anyone to see us together. She was afraid Mustafa might hear about us. This wasn’t a source of sadness for me; in a strange way I even enjoyed the secrecy, the hiding, holding on to a secret that was ours alone. Mustafa’s mere existence gave us a secret to share, and brought us that much closer.
After such lovemaking you feel something like a passionate love, an exalted feeling of happiness, gratitude, joy. I thought about sending her a message but I held myself back.
I knew it was something I shouldn’t do.
I sensed that I needed to keep the relationship the way it was. It was a perfect statue – nothing could be added or taken away.
Touching it would only upset its symmetry.
I took a side road into the forest, winding down the mountain road among the villages and fields.
I had lunch in a village restaurant.
Then I had tea in a neighbouring village.
I chatted with the locals.
Towards evening, as I was approaching town, I received a message.
So there is such a thing as a blue diamond.
Thank God, I wrote back.
XVI
It was already getting dark as I approached the town.
I missed her. And the darkness seemed a part of my longing for her, and the darker it became the more desperately I wanted to see her. Then I panicked. Was I falling in love? That would be disastrous. I would ruin a beautiful relationship, leaving nothing but pain and agony.
I had to struggle not to call.
Experience can come to the rescue at times like these.
I’d been through similar relationships before, swept away by similar fits of desire.
Maybe it was only to be expected after such intense physical intimacy.
So I decided to wait until morning, wait for the emotions that had been blown up the previous night to settle.
Only when the aftershocks had ended could I assess my true feelings.
I was shaken.
I had to wait for the feelings to settle.
I sped up with the desire to get home as soon as possible.
Not far from home I saw lights at the church on the hill. The site was officially off-limits. Who was up there? How could anyone be up there without being shot or apprehended?
But full of my own troubles, I didn’t think much of it.
I went home.
I was exhausted.
I had a drink.
Then I drifted off into a deep sleep, wondering how I would feel in the morning.
I felt much better.
The panic of that emotional storm had passed and there was the same pristine relationship, glimmering like a fairytale city in an immaculate crystal globe.
Hamiyet had set out my breakfast on the veranda.
She was softly humming a little tune.
‘You seem in an especially good mood,’ I said, already knowing why, or at least harboring a strong suspicion, but I waited for her to answer.
‘Oh nothing,’ she said. ‘Just singing.’
‘I saw lights on the hill last night. Do you know what they’re doing?’
‘No. I went to bed early last night. No idea about that.’
I looked her in the eye. She looked away and I saw that she was blushing. I knew she hated when I looked at her like that but I enjoyed it.
If there were ever a shop selling sins, the flickering light in Hamiyet’s eyes would be right in the middle of the display window. Hamiyet didn’t know what I knew about her, but she became restless and rushed off into the kitchen, caught her foot on the edge of the carpet and cried: ‘Oh, you’re always like that.’
I wandered down into town through the narrow streets of the poor neighbourhood, streets paved with stones of all sizes. In one of the little squares I saw a bunch of low, little wicker stools in front of a coffeehouse and I decided to sit down for a moment.
I asked a scrawny boy in a faded Barcelona football shirt for a coffee and leaned back against the wall and looked across the street. Three metres from me was a shop with wooden cradles in the front window, roughly the size of a normal house window. The sign above it read: ‘Woodwork’.
In front of the shop a man with a long beard and a moustache draped over his lips sat on a carpet. He wore a thick leather apron up to his chin and in his lap was a cradle he was carving.
He lifted his head and our eyes met. Despite his imposing beard, his face was bathed in a warm light, and there were crinkles around the corners of his eyes.
‘How are you, saint?’ he said, whimsically. ‘Worn out by the hill?’
‘No. Just coming down. Going up is a different story.’
He looked me over for a moment.
‘They’re both difficult. Master Rumi said all roads go up and down because people always lose their way when the road is flat. Roads are never completely flat. And when they are, well, then you lose your way.’
‘You’re carving cradles?’
‘Why, yes I am. That’s my job. We ask permission from the trees, then we use the wood to make cradles for those who are about to join us.’
‘Is there a market for so many cradles?’
‘People are just popping them out,’ he said, smiling under his bushy moustache.
‘Who?’
‘The people who live on the hill here,’ he said, waving his hand in the direction of the poor neighbourhood.
‘Are you from around here?’ I asked.
‘Born and raised.’
‘Any trouble round here? People harassing you, that kind of thing?’
‘No, that wouldn’t happen to me.’
‘Seems anything can happen in this town. Just the other day they shot a man dead right in front of me.’
‘I know the kid. Knew him since he was a little boy. He was hanging out with the wrong crowd. He was a good kid but he went and got involved with the wrong people.’
‘Why are they killing so many people?’
‘Driven mad by all the rumours about the treasure on the hill. Talking about it endlessly, they start to believe that it’s really there and then they’re fixated on the money. They all want to get rich quick. The rich are thinking about how they can buy the entire town … That’s wealth, you’re born into this world and then you die, doing whatever kind of work God has given you, settling with what you have, that’s wealth, no greater wealth than that. We’re all a part of this world and when you kill another human being you’re killing a part of yourself, and so consider the cost. When they shot that boy, they shot the creator. Did they stop to think about that? What is man? God is in that tree over there, and then consider human beings … They’ve lost their bearings, drifting further out to sea.’
‘Do you believe there’s a treasure up there?’
‘Hardly, wise one. That’s the devil talking.’
‘Then what’s the story behind the church?’
‘It was built by a monk back in the day. It’s just a little thing, could hardly even call it a church.’
‘I saw lights on the hill last night.’
‘Me too. The mayor’s digging. No one else would go up there, considering the new decree.’
‘The mayor seems like a decent man.’
He raised his eyebrows and said, ‘Well, now that’s going a bit too far.’
‘Don’t get me wrong,’ I said, a little embarrassed. ‘It’s just that I met him a couple of times and he seemed decent enough.’
‘Well, he puts on a good face for you. You aren’t a competitor and you’re not an enemy either.’
I remembered the previous night. Mustafa was a potential enemy and a competitor.
The carpenter went on: ‘He’s not the type of person who chooses to do wrong for the fun of it but when it comes to a foe he’s merciless. People are strange. They know both good and evil but how do they choose between the two? And stranger is that sometimes they choose both, never thinking, Oh I’ll go for good over evil.’
‘God made us that way, wise one,’ I said, picking up his lingo. ‘Evil is profitable.’
He was clearly in his element.
‘Would you cut off your arm for a profit? What is worth more than your arm? Nothing, correct? And so with every evil act you cut off a piece of yourself, and the creator grieves. Where’s the profit there? People aren’t even aware that when they opt for evil they’re hurting themselves. But they’re not evil at heart, they’re blind. They can’t see the truth shining brightly right there before their eyes.’
It was about time to leave.
‘All right then. They say that Jesus Christ is buried up on that hill,’ I said.
A sardonic smile lit up his face.
‘Last I heard he flew away, and I have no idea if he ever came back … Never heard a thing.’
I put money for my coffee on the table and stood up.
‘So long, old man. Hope to see you soon. God be with you.’
He called out after me, ‘Be careful on the hill.’
I turned and said, ‘You’re the one sitting on it.’
‘No harm just sitting. You’re the one going up and down.’
When I turned to look back he was hammering away at his cradle, his head bowed.
Surely Zuhal knows this guy, I thought.
When she decided to buy a place in town she opted for an old stone house she renovated. It was in the poor neighbourhood on the hill and it had a secluded garden. She was friends with almost everyone there, and she knew all about their lives. Every time she came to town she spent most of her time with them.
I really didn’t know why.
Maybe it was because she knew they would be pleased to have someone like her around them. She was charitable and I’d seen her do some amazing things to help the poor. Maybe she liked how they treated her like a queen. Maybe she’d moved there to annoy Mustafa. Whatever the reason, she’d settled in that part of town against his wishes. But they liked having her there. And she told me all their stories.
I took a shine to the old man.
There are some people who are truly good at heart, clear as spring water, and when you see them you feel glad. He was one of them. I also enjoyed his sense of humour.
I decided that I would come back and see him again.
When I arrived at Centipede’s place the tension in the air was palpable, with people speaking passionately amongst themselves in hushed tones.
I signalled to Remzi and he came over.
‘What’s going on?’ I asked.
‘They started digging up at the church last night,’ he said, lowering his voice.
‘Who started digging?’
‘No one knows. But who else but Mustafa would try?’
‘Mustafa might very well try, seeing that he’s the one who made the place out of bounds.’
‘Normally he wouldn’t dare, because everyone would go mad, but who knows? If he’s really lost his mind …’
He stopped, thinking he’d said too much.
In a faltering voice he added, ‘You know, just an idea, otherwise things would spiral out of control …’
‘You’re afraid, aren’t you?’ I said. I was amused by it all.
Suddenly a grave expression fell over his face. I had expected him to say something to the effect of ‘Of course not. Me, afraid?’ but he leaned closer and said, ‘You should be too, brother. This is no laughing matter.’
‘What will happen if you speak to Mustafa about it?’
‘The best you could do now is to watch the match play out from the sidelines.’ He could see I hadn’t understood from the look on my face. He explained: ‘They put the wheelchairs on the sidelines.’
‘Mate, it’s just the two of us talking. What’s there to be afraid of?’
‘Brother, they’re listening. He’s got men everywhere.’
‘Who’s listening?’
He shrugged.
Suddenly I realised I wouldn’t have a friend left in town if I kept asking these kinds of questions.
They were all terrified.
And the fear was like an enormous tree, alive and powerful, its roots spreading through all corners of the town.
I couldn’t really understand why they were so afraid, but the fear was like an infectious virus, spreading with every exchange, growing a little more with every hushed conversation.
Fear fed more fear, it seemed, and it only took one of them to start a new fire and it fanned out in every direction, consuming anyone in its path.
Since arriving in town I’d come to understand that these people eventually forgot the source of their fears, but continued to relish the emotion. There was no need to even question why.
Hearing a new bit of information, they would take flight like birds, even if they had nothing to do with the incident; and because they had nowhere to go, they would always come back to perch on the same tree. The town was a giant cage, full of frightened little birds.
Just as the carpenter had said, the treasure was driving everyone insane.
And no one knew if it was even there.
People at the coffeehouse didn’t know what was going to happen next, but they were convinced it was going to be big.
No one came over to me and I felt restless sitting there with them.
So I got up and left without saying goodbye. I decided to go the Çinili. I thought it would be more peaceful there.
It was full of people. But now there was hostility in the air. Looking for an empty table, I spotted Kamile and her son Rahmi. They had just arrived and we sat down together.
After wading through the usual social niceties, I said, ‘So what’s happening? Everyone’s on edge this morning.’
‘Mustafa Bey started digging at the church last night,’ Rahmi said.
I couldn’t help but smile. The affluent set in town would always address each other with the formal Bey, even if they were childhood friends. These people are like porters in a restaurant, I thought to myself. I suppose that’s how they were brought up. They had a real, low-brow sense of humour but whenever they were talking about someone they always addressed him as Sir, using the word Bey.
‘Are you sure?’ I asked.
‘They had excavators working up there all night.’
‘But there’s a court order prohibiting anyone from going there, and they plastered the decree all over town.’
‘That means a prohibition for everyone except Mustafa Bey,’ Kamile said, flashing a sarcastic smile. ‘It’s open season for him.’
From what Rahmi was saying I sensed that something was going to happen, because he wasn’t just afraid, he was angry. Mustafa had clearly crossed a line: he wanted to be the sole leader of the entire town, the rich and the poor. And considering Rahmi’s state of mind, I could see that Mustafa had effectively declared war.
‘What will happen now?’ I asked, curious.
The answer was short and to the point.
‘Nothing but trouble from now on.’
He sadly nodded his head. ‘I have no idea why Mustafa Bey has gone and done this. He knows the traditions around here better than anyone.’
