Endgame, page 15
I really felt for him just then, and for a moment I forgot that this woman he was desperately trying to understand had asked me to marry her only a little while ago.
‘I don’t know what I’m doing or why I’m doing what I’m doing … It’s such meaninglessness. You want to make a woman happy because you love her and she gets it all wrong. Why does a woman keep telling you she loves you while doing everything in her power to make you sad and angry? Why does a woman suddenly turn and leave after she’s cried in your arms? Why does she think you want to leave her just when you’re about to propose to her?’
‘Maybe you did something to upset her?’
‘Maybe she did something to upset me and she can’t forget,’ he said.
He was quiet for a moment and I imagine he was considering what he’d just said. ‘Now, tell me, can a woman really do something that stupid? Is it possible? I’m dying to know. Would she blame me or take it out on me for a mistake that she made?’
‘I’m not sure what kind of mistake you’re talking about so I can’t really give you an answer.’
He looked out over the sea, took a sip of rakı, lit a cigarette, and all the while I knew that he was thinking about whether he should tell me, and suffering so deeply that I can’t say I didn’t pity the man: he had no one else in the world he could talk to other than the man who was sleeping with the woman he loved.
Looking into his eyes, I waited and the worst of it was that as I looked at him I imagined him making love to Zuhal, his words and his expressions.
Now, on this bench in the middle of the night, waiting for what I imagine will be a horrible end, I can still smile when I think of that moment.
Oh God, is that why you’re punishing me?
Are you punishing me for that?
I agree I should be punished. What I did was unfair, cruel and sinful.
But am I the only guilty one?
This man has no one to talk to about the woman he loves except the man who is making love to her. You have condemned him to this. Are you not guilty for it?
Did you not condemn him to his loneliness and desperation?
What did you suppose I’d think when you dropped him at my feet?
How can you expect kindness from a man who’s sleeping with his friend’s girlfriend? Should he simply forget all about it?
Should I have erased all those passionate scenes from my mind?
Don’t you know that’s impossible?
What were you thinking when you made it clear to me that the woman who had just asked me to marry her had only but a few hours ago been shedding tears in his arms?
Didn’t you ever stop to think that I might feel hurt, broken, enraged by such a confrontation?
What’s the point?
To add a little more excitement to your book, and have a little fun putting me and Mustafa in such a bind, just to see what will happen when the emotions collide?
Did you expect these two men who had been hurt by the same women in different ways to lick each other’s wounds like animals?
We are human beings.
Humans you created.
When you are so flippantly fiddling with our emotions, how do you expect us to react to the pain?
Don’t you know that pain only becomes anger, hostility and revenge? How could you not? You’re the author of this book, and if you know so much how could you expect anything else to happen?
And when you read the end result of your own work, just what you had anticipated all along, are you angry at what the heroes of your own design have done?
If you’re the one writing then why are you angry with me?
And if I am the one writing then why am I suffering?
Shouldn’t we decide who is responsible for what our hero has done and the pain that he is to endure?
There isn’t anyone apart from us, another God making fun of the two of us, is there?
It’s just the two of us?
Now, I don’t mean to rile you up, but you’re aware that you have abandoned all responsibility, piling it all up on my shoulders, aren’t you?
I get all the responsibility and you get all the power.
You write it all down and then you punish me for it.
After it’s all there on the page you find me guilty, a sinner, cruel?
But who is cruel?
Who is punished?
Here in the middle of this sleeping town are we going to declare this poor, ill-fated man guilty and a sinner?
As I listened to Mustafa speak of his troubles, I thought about how he made love to Zuhal. What do you think about when you listen to my laments? What do you know that I don’t know?
What are all those things I will never know before I die?
Will you laugh when I die?
Will you grieve?
Won’t you be bored without me here on earth?
You never will be able to find someone else like me. You can write your heart out, but you can’t come up with another like me.
Does this make you mad?
Indeed does the idea that I can write all this down make you angry?
If I have something else in mind as I write all of this, and you’re aware of it, then yes, you have every right to be angry.
Is there any doubt in your mind as to the real author of this book?
How much more time till morning?
Are you going to save me?
Can you come up with a means of salvation when there is no way out? Can you create a way out of this trap?
But neither of us are capable of so much at this late stage, are we?
From this moment on, both of us are condemned to what we’ve already written.
We can’t change that now.
There are limits to our power, limits to your power.
I am at that limit now.
Is this not the very thing we know as hopelessness, to be at the limit of one’s power, to hit a dead end with no way out?
The only chance for this unresolved problem of yours is to say you’ll fix it in the sequel, in the hereafter.
That’s not enough for me right now.
I need a solution to unfold in this book.
And it doesn’t seem like I’ll find one in the middle of the night.
In fact it seems a bit strange to think that I’ll be killed here tonight because that day as I was listening to everything Mustafa had to tell me I was thinking about how he made love to Zuhal.
But what isn’t strange?
After thinking quietly to himself for a while, Mustafa made his decision – he no longer had the strength to bear the pain alone, and there was no one else in town he could talk to.
‘I fell in love with her when I was at university, and she loved me. Those were wonderful days. We travelled together and had such good times. I’ll never forget how beautiful she was when she laughed, I’ve never heard such a beautiful laugh. Back then I was different, I didn’t have a care in the world. You know how people are when they fall in love. Nothing else matters. I assumed we would get married when we got home. I don’t know why I never told her that. Maybe because I didn’t want to scare her or I wanted to surprise her later. Maybe I just wanted to be sure that she loved me as much as I loved her. I can’t really say. Love isn’t easy, you love someone but then you have such silly suspicions. Anyway. You know, I was even thinking about the names we could give our children. We finished university. She came back. My dad wanted me to stay there another year to do an internship and so he arranged for me to work at his American friend’s company. I didn’t want to do it. He really pushed me. It got to the point where it nearly broke us up. The thing is that I could have written off my dad, and my whole family, and then I considered how difficult it would be for us to live and how I would have trouble providing for her, and in fact in a way I did it so the two of us could live a happy, affluent life. I stayed. And she came back. You know, I cried for the first time in my life when I dropped her off at the airport. I cried for her. She never knew about that but I never forgot. Then we started to write letters. But over time we wrote less and less. I couldn’t ask anyone about her, I was too embarrassed. I was afraid I would get the wrong answer, put myself in an awkward position. When I got back she was already married. To a kid from the city. Good-looking guy. His dad owned an olive oil factory. I didn’t call her after I heard about it. I just came back to this damned town and I never left.’
He paused then said, ‘What should we eat?’
I was lost in the story and confused. ‘Ah … I think I’ll have a steak.’
He laughed. ‘Good idea. This place has always had terrible food. Best to have grilled meat. I’ll have one too. How do you like it?’
‘Well done.’ And he laughed again.
‘Turkish style,’ he said and turned to the waiter.
‘Two steaks well done.’
He took a sip of rakı and seemed a little more relaxed.
‘I also married someone from town. My mother arranged it. I agreed without even thinking about it. But it didn’t work out and we separated. I wasn’t working. Then some time went by. One day I went into town for business. I had a lover at the time, and I went into a shop to buy her a gift. Zuhal and I met again there. You know, I was really nervous even though so much time had passed, and I didn’t know how to hide it. We ate something together. She had also recently separated from her husband. And then we got back together again. She came back to town and bought a house. Sometimes she would come here and sometimes I would stay with her in the city. But I could never forget the fact that she had married someone else. I didn’t feel like I could ever be that close to her again. I loved her, but not like before, I couldn’t trust her. But you know I really wanted to. I truly did and I pushed myself. But then there were these strange times when I would think about her married to some other bastard, a worthless dog, and I would go mad. I couldn’t stop myself. I suppose I said some pretty hurtful things when I was angry, and I did things to disappoint her. There were times when I left her. But when I did, I was full of regret and when I came back she behaved in a way that made my suspicion and rage flood back again. She did everything she could to make me angry. She knew how to do it. You see we really tore each other apart, left each other to lick our wounds. I tried other women, to get over her, but it didn’t work and I just couldn’t leave her. In the end I said to myself, I just can’t give her up and if I do I’ll either be at war with her or myself, so just let the past be the past. And whenever I thought of her, whenever she crossed my mind, I would go into a room and trash the place until I calmed down and then I could go back to her. So I called her. I was going to ask her to marry me. We were so good before. Talking about it, she started to cry. Then she started an argument about something that had nothing to do with it. And in the middle of night she gets up and leaves. It was like she wasn’t the one who had married someone else and was blaming me. As if I had made everything happen. In her mind, it’s all my fault.’
He stopped and looked at me, and a bright smile spread across his face, a young, innocent smile, and he took my arm like a young man horsing around with a friend and said, ‘This would make a great novel, wouldn’t it?’
‘Depends how you write it,’ I said.
‘No, I don’t mean that. Believe me, it wouldn’t work, nothing would come of the diary of two madmen, but something would come of the diary of two fools. Even if I told the whole story to Gogol, it wouldn’t work.’
Sometimes he could really surprise me.
He sighed and asked, ‘Is it that she can’t forgive herself for what she did or that she can’t forgive me for what I did?’
Mulling over an answer, I heard a languid voice behind me. ‘Oh, so you’re here too, I see.’ Mustafa and I turned around to see the judge and the district governor standing over us. Making a considerable effort to conceal his disdain, he said, ‘Please join us.’
‘If you’re having a private lunch, don’t let us disturb you,’ the district governor said as he pulled out a chair for himself.
‘Of course not. We just met on the street and we’re talking books,’ Mustafa said.
Unforthcoming, the judge sat down at our table. I had never before seen such a thin man: his shoulders, chest and head looked two-dimensional. He face was fixed in a permanent frown. You would never expect the man to ever smile.
They ordered.
‘So how have you been, Mr Mayor?’ said the district governor. ‘I’ve been hearing things.’
Mustafa furrowed his brow.
‘What kinds of things?’
The district governor looked at me, no doubt wondering just how much he could share with me before deciding that I wouldn’t understand.
‘It seems Muhacir’s men are getting ready to do something rash.’
So clearly they’d heard about the planned hit on Sultan. Either Sümbül had talked or there was another informant inside Muhacir’s team.
‘Ah,’ Mustafa said, and a shadow fell over his face. He was now a very different man. ‘So it seems we need to speak with Raci Bey before those dogs turn this place upside down.’
The judge weighed in with his wooden voice. ‘If you could issue an outstanding warrant for Muhacir, we might be able to arrest him for the public good. To keep the public peace.’
‘The public peace’ was a magic word in this town, bandied about for any kind of ‘benefit’.
‘Things could get even more out of control then,’ said the district official.
I listened to everything they were saying with an innocent expression on my face, as if I was entirely unaware of the situation.
‘The trouble-makers will be arrested,’ said the judge.
‘Oh, esteemed judge, it seems you’d like to lock them all up and be done with it,’ said the district governor, laughing as he stroked his prayer beads.
‘If required for the public good, of course, and why not?’
‘And will you have Oleander arrested as well?’ I asked innocently, and all three heads swivelled in my direction.
‘No,’ said the district governor. ‘Oleander is a nationalist, a patriot, and you shouldn’t pay attention to the rumours about him. He’s a tough fellow but he’d never betray the government or his country.’
A range of expressions moved the faces of the other two.
‘Muhacir isn’t that kind of man. I’m sure he has ties to foreign powers. He has family that comes and goes. They say they’re relatives but who knows if they really are. What do they do? What kind of work? No one really knows. They might be trying to prepare the treasure as a gift for them. It would be a betrayal of the country if they sold a national heritage treasure to them. That’s what I am concerned about.’
Hearing mention of the treasure, I felt that I could interrupt without arousing too much suspicion.
‘Why not establish a shared foundation in the name of the town and move ahead that way? The state would most likely seize the treasure but at least a part of it would remain with the town. And you could then set up a museum and tourists from all around the world would come to see it. It would only enrich the town.’
‘Out of the question,’ Mustafa said so sharply and abruptly that everyone snapped to attention and he felt compelled to explain himself.
‘First of all, there’s nothing fit for a museum up there, only money and jewels. Hah, a museum. Someone will find that treasure. No one would accept the idea of a joint foundation that would let the loot go to the state. They’re all after the deed. And one day it will come to light.’
‘If the deed is ever found, it will only benefit the holder. What about the others?’
‘We’ll think about that then,’ said Mustafa.
The district governor turned to me with his impertinent smile and said, ‘It seems you have an interest in antiques.’
I gave him a quizzical look and he went on: ‘You spend quite some time in the antique shops. Looking for something for the home?’
‘I like antique shops. You never know what you’ll find there.’
‘Maybe you’ll be the one to find the deed,’ said the governor. ‘Beginner’s luck … It’s just might turn out to be you.’
‘I’m not looking for it,’ I said, sternly.
‘In any case only bad luck will come to whoever finds it. It’s not wise to be looking for something like that,’ said the governor.
Our coffees arrived. The governor turned to Mustafa and said: ‘So what are we going to do about Muhacir. I don’t want any trouble.’
‘Let me talk to Raci Bey first and we’ll take it from there …’
When they finished their coffees, they stood up. We sat and smoked in silence for a while.
‘We were having such a nice chat,’ said Mustafa. ‘And they ruined it.’
Then I couldn’t help but ask. It was pure evil to do this.
‘Could there be another man?’
Mustafa shook his head.
‘No, she’s not like that. She’d do anything else, but not that. Sometimes she tries to make me angry and jealous but she would never sleep with another man unless she married him. And if she was going to get married she’d tell me first. In that respect I trust her. It’s just not possible she’s with another man.’
‘A little while ago you said you didn’t trust her but it seems you really do.’
‘I trust her a hundred per cent in this regard. You could put her in with a regiment of soldiers and she’d come out with her virtue intact. I don’t trust that she won’t up and leave me again. But I don’t worry for a moment that she would sleep with another man. She would never do that.’
‘Are you two together right now? Are you lovers?’
‘Look, I don’t even know what we are, lovers or not. Sometimes we are and sometimes we aren’t. It depends on her mood that day. And that’s just what makes me so angry.’
‘It seems to me that you two have a strong bond, one that would last. So don’t think that things will fall apart for any old reason, because looking from the outside you see an ongoing, healthy relationship, one that will last, albeit a little painful but that surely stems from the strength of your connection.’
