We Were Inevitable, page 16
“Your flight is way shorter than mine, isn’t it? I’m jealous that you’re going to be in London, like, five hours after we leave, and I’ll barely be halfway to my destination.”
Chloe shrugged. “And I’m jealous that you’ll have time to watch at least twice as many movies as me. Long flights were always my favorite time for a veg out movie marathon, and I haven’t had one of those since spring break last year.” She waved a dismissive hand. “You’ll be fine. I know you won’t be able to do your favorite thing—work—but you’ll manage. You might even enjoy yourself…”
After completing check-in for both Melody’s flight and Chloe’s, they made their way through security. The time they had together—the last time Melody was going to be spending with a familiar face for quite a while—was passing so quickly, and she wished she could grab hold of it. Savor it a bit before she found herself alone with only her thoughts and worries for company.
Even the security process was quick and smooth. If there was ever a time she wished for a delay, she wished for it now. A long line, a bag that needs to be rechecked a time or two, a “random selection” for being patted down.
None of it happened, though, and they were on the other side of security, with only their gates to find before the inevitable departure arrived.
Too soon, Chloe was hugging Melody goodbye at the gate, grabbing her upper arms firmly to reassure her, yet again, that she could do this, she wasn’t making a terrible mistake, and everything was going to work out just fine.
A drop of emotion escaped from Melody’s eye, and she hastily wiped it away. “And what about you?” she asked Chloe with a sniffle. “Are you good? I wish I could stay with you until your flight leaves…”
Chloe rolled her eyes. “But that would defeat the whole purpose of me seeing you off. Seriously, everything is fine. I’m going to go zone out at my gate until it’s time to leave, and you are going to get on that plane and stop delaying your adventure.“ She gave Melody one last hug before pushing her away, a little more forcefully than necessary, if you asked Melody. “Now get out of here. I’m proud of you for doing this, and I love you dearly. And I can’t wait to meet up with you in Izmir. And London. And who even knows where else?”
Melody barely managed to stop herself from responding that while Chloe was welcome to visit Izmir, Melody had no plans to travel anywhere else. As soon as she arrived in Turkey, her first order of business was to figure out her new role at the University of the Aegean and then dive into it headlong. She highly doubted there would be time to travel, but she could at least take Chloe out for dinner when she came to visit.
Instead, she simply smiled at her friend. “See you on the other side, then.” Then she gave a little salute—which she instantly regretted because who did that?—and then took her place in the line to board. When she glanced back, Chloe was waving her arms in a silent celebration of glee. She blew a kiss at Melody then left for her own gate.
Chloe had been right about the flight. It had been a long time since Melody had taken a longer flight than just the few hours to visit her aunt and uncle in St. Louis, and her last international flight—that ill-fated spring break trip to Cozumel that she tried to forget ever happened—had definitely not been on a luxurious airline.
But the journey from New York to Istanbul was a treat—between the tasty food and the large selection of movies, she almost could have wished the journey were longer. That might, in part, have been because she was nervous about what was waiting for her on the other side of the ocean, but she was happy to pretend it was about continuing her movie marathon just a bit longer.
When the plane landed in Istanbul and it was time to depart, the steady drip of anxiety Melody had been feeling crescendoed into a full-on downpour. In all the preparation she had done to get ready for this big move, she hadn’t focused too much on the basic logistics, she now realized. She had three hours before her next flight—the one that would take her to Izmir—departed, and she had no idea what awaited her between deplaning and that next, shorter journey. Was she going to need to collect her bag, go through customs, and recheck it? And if that was the case, were three hours going to be long enough?
She remembered seeing something about customs on the screen of the entertainment system, but she had ignored it in favor of searching out her next movie. Now, while she was waiting for her turn to exit the plane—why did people stand up and wait in the aisle when there were still rows and rows of people in front of them waiting to leave?—she clicked over to the information screen about customs…
…and immediately let out a sigh of relief. Right there, on the screen, was a notice that passengers transiting through Istanbul to a selection of other airports in Turkey would not have to go through customs in Istanbul and would instead do so in their final destination. Izmir was right there on the list, and Melody was relieved to know there was one less thing on her to-do list for the next three hours.
Once off the plane, she followed the signs for transit passengers and passport control, all of which were taking her in the same direction. Passport control, it seemed, was one thing that would not be waiting for her final destination. She found a spot in line and dug out her passport and the printed visa that was stashed in her purse.
Because of the relatively short passage of time between selection for the Generosity Exchange and departures to their respective countries, most of the participants were entering their host countries on tourist visas, Madeline had explained. Procedures were in place to turn those tourist visas into longer-term visas or residence permits, depending on the country, but they had all been assured that everything was above board; nothing to be concerned about, especially given that Generosity Exchange participants were still on the payroll of their home employers. No money would be paid by the foreign institutions, who would be paying their own employees who had been sent abroad, just like EduPowerment was doing for people like Melody.
It was all very complicated, Melody thought, and it did nothing to reassure her that she actually wasn’t doing anything illegal by entering the country on a tourist visa despite having plans to stay longer. She reminded herself of that fact like it was a mantra, while she waited for her turn to speak to the passport control officer.
When it was finally her turn, a serious-looking officer beckoned Melody forward with a single wave of her hand. Melody stepped forward with a smile and a tentative “Merhaba”—one Turkish word that she hoped she’d actually managed to learn to pronounce. It was generally a good idea to know how to say hello to people, even if the officer didn’t acknowledge her. Of course, it was possible that in her uncertainty of how to pronounce the greeting, Melody had actually said it so softly that the woman hadn’t even heard her say it.
Melody handed over her passport and visa, prepared to answer any additional questions, and almost dismayed when she was directed to look at a camera and then handed back her stamped passport with nary a comment. That was it? Really?
“Excuse me, don’t you want to know more about my stay in Turkey?” Melody asked, desperately hoping the officer spoke English. “I am coming on a tourist visa, but I’m going to be helping out at a university in Izmir. They will go through the procedures there to help me get a residence permit for the year…”
The officer tilted her head up sharply. “No,” was all she said, as she directed Melody towards the passageway through to the other side of passport control.
“I’m sorry, I can’t?” Melody felt a bubble of panic rise up. “I can’t stay longer?”
The officer just smiled. “Welcome to Türkiye. Step through, please.”
Melody took a single step closer, still not comprehending. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
“Lady, come through.” The officer’s tone was more serious now. “Whatever you do with the university in Izmir is between you and them. Nothing to do with me. Now, please—” She gave one last—clearly intended to be final—gesture to the exit, and Melody took the cue.
Finding her way to the connecting flight wasn’t as challenging as Melody had feared. Sure enough, all the signs in the airport had been in both Turkish and English, and now that she thought about it, it made the utmost sense for airports to be clear and self-explanatory. No international airport anywhere in the world would benefit from unclear signage resulting in stressed out travelers needed constant assistance. She would try to remember that the next time she was flying, but she already knew that if she was in an airport again, there was a good chance she’d be feeling just as anxious as she was in this moment.
Melody’s contact at the University of the Aegean was someone named Zeynep Öz, and Melody pulled out her phone to connect to the airport Wi-Fi and send off an update. Zeynep had informed her a few days ago that she would be the one picking up Melody from the airport. Nothing sounded worse than arriving in a new city and not having a clue where to go next, so a check-in just might go a long way to ease Melody’s nerves about that particular worst-case scenario.
Once she was secure in the knowledge that her airport pickup had been arranged, Melody parked herself in a hard chair at the gate where her flight to Izmir was scheduled to depart in just a couple hours. Only then did she let the fact that she was in Turkey sink in—and sink in, it did, with the vaguest hint of something bordering on panic.
She looked around, taking in the unfamiliar sights. While many of the shops and restaurants were not that different from what she had seen at the Detroit airport, the words written on the signs and the language used in the announcements being broadcast every few minutes were far from familiar.
Of course she had known, intellectually, that this would be the case, but it didn’t change the shock of being confronted with the reality. The temptation to feel that she had gotten herself in over her head and that she should look for the next flight back home threatened to bubble up, but she shoved it back down. Now was not the time to panic. It was somehow both too late and too early to do that, and she resolved to keep herself distracted until she was alone for the evening, wherever that might be.
Right, she reminded herself, because I don’t actually know where I’m going to be spending the night. That was decidedly not the kind of thought that helped to reduce one’s anxiety levels, but it was the truth.
Zeynep had assured Melody that she would be dropping her off at her accommodation for the night, but there hadn’t been enough time to clarify where that would be. A hotel room? An apartment? Someone’s guest bedroom? Melody was prepared—well, as prepared as she could be—for all of those options.
A rumbling in her stomach provided the perfect opportunity to seek out a distraction. She was hungry, and it probably wouldn’t hurt to find a bit of caffeine, too, to keep her moving forward on this seemingly endless day.
Getting to her feet again and slinging her bag back over her shoulder, Melody was aware for the first time of just how physical the exhaustion of traveling could be. She’d thought she was tired from being awake for so many hours straight, but as she shuffled through the airport, following her nose in the direction of something that smelled a bit like heaven, she could feel it in her bones. Her feet, her lower back, her shoulders…from head to toe she felt like she’d been run over with a giant cosmic rolling pin. Stretching out on a bed was going to feel so good whenever it finally happened.
The nutty, warm smell beckoned Melody closer, her mouth watering at something that called to mind baked goods both sweet and savory. She approached a small café kiosk, the glass case of pastries glowing warm under fluorescent lights.
The one that caught her attention was shaped like a football, gleaming like it had been brushed with an egg wash before being baked at a high temperature, and dotted with small black seeds that looked like burned sesame seeds. She pointed to it, hoping the woman working behind the counter spoke English. “Sorry, what is that?” she asked.
“Zeytinli poğaça,” the woman answered without hesitation. “Olive pastry. Would you like one?”
After the briefest hesitation—after all, who had ever heard of olives in a pastry?—Melody nodded. “Yes, please. And a cup of coffee.”
After paying, Melody made her way to a small table, sighing with relief as she placed her heavy bag on the empty seat next to hers. She took a sip of coffee and then slid the pastry out of its paper bag, closing her eyes as she smelled its warm buttery, savory smell again.
She ripped it in half, surprised to see both slices of black olives and steam coming from the center. She took a tentative bite, unsure if she should expect the olives to taste and feel like they had come out of a can, but smiling automatically as she realized they were pungent, salty, and so flavorful that it was clear they came in small slices only so that they wouldn’t overpower the warm dough that surrounded them. Even the black seeds on top of the pastry contributed to the flavor, rounding it out with an absolutely delightful nuttiness.
When Melody was revived from her snack and caffeine, she returned to the gate, pleased to see it had filled out a bit more, with a few folks waiting for the flight to Izmir. Before she knew it, they’d be in the air again.
The flight to Izmir was blissfully short and uneventful, and almost as quickly as the plane leveled out at altitude, it was descending again to arrive at the airport. After landing, Melody collected her bag, breezed through customs, and was making her way outside to meet Zeynep far sooner than she had expected.
But if she had worried that Zeynep wouldn’t be there waiting for her, her worries had been needless. Sure enough, there was a woman with long black hair and a toothy grin holding a sign that read MELODY CRITCHFIELD who started waving as soon as Melody’s eyes landed on her sign and she gave the smallest wave of acknowledgment.
“Hello!” Zeynep cried, taking Melody’s bag from her and leaning in for a hug and quick double kiss on each cheek. “It’s so nice to meet you, Melody. I’m Zeynep, but I think you already knew that.”
Melody smiled back at her. “I did, just like you already knew my name, but it’s still better to meet you in person. Thank you for coming to pick me up.”
Zeynep gave her a dismissive wave. “Of course! How could I not? You traveled all this way to work with us, the least I can do is welcome you with some Turkish hospitality.” She clapped her hands together. “Now, what are your needs? Food? Water? Or straight to the apartment to sleep off the day’s journey? Whatever you need to do, that’s our priority.”
Melody balked. While it wasn’t entirely out of the question to defer to the needs of the traveler, the fact that Zeynep, her future—or rather current, considering that she was in Turkey now—supervisor was prepared to follow Melody’s lead rather than take her straight to the office to get to work was unfamiliar territory. “Er…well, I’m up for whatever. If we need to do some work today, that’s fine, too.”
“Absolutely not.” Zeynep shook her head, decisive and final in her conviction. “Not only is the work day nearly over, but what would even be the point of that? You are exhausted, and you probably want nothing more than a shower, a meal, and a good long sleep. No, we don’t even have you scheduled to socialize with the rest of the staff for another couple days. Tomorrow you’re off, and I’ll send someone to help you settle in, make sure you know where everything is and how it all works. I don’t want to overwhelm you with the details now, but just know that you won’t have to worry about anything with the apartment or utilities. That’s all handled by the university, but you should still know how it all works and who to go to for any technical issues that may come up. I’ll send Ben to you tomorrow morning—not too early, since I don’t know how long you’ll need to sleep…”
Zeynep continued talking, listing all the things that Melody would be sorting out the following day, but Melody was hung up on one particular detail. When she had a chance to get a word in, she asked her question. “Sorry, did you say Ben? Is…is that another American?”
Zeynep shook her head, a warm smile spreading across her face. “No, he’s Turkish. Well, a German Turk, I should say. Born and raised in Germany with Turkish parents, but we’re lucky enough to have him here with us for a while to help out.” She frowned, a quizzical expression on her face. “Is that alright? I didn’t think to ask, but if you’re not comfortable with a strange man coming to your apartment, I can make different arrangements. Come myself, if you’d like.”
“Oh no, that’s not necessary.” Melody waved a hand in protest. Zeynep was really bending over backwards and Melody didn’t know what to do with that. “It’s totally fine, of course. I was just surprised by the name, is all. It sounded like you were sending an American with me and that wasn’t what I expected. Is…is there a big team of us here, actually?”
“No,” Zeynep said. “From the Generosity Exchange, it’s just you. And then Ben is here from Germany, of course. The rest of our staff is quite established. It wouldn’t work that well for the department or our students if we had a complete staff turnover.”
“Of course.” Melody gulped, the anxiety of taking on an unprecedented challenge—getting out from behind the computer and into the classroom? What was she thinking?—catching up with her.
Zeynep placed a reassuring hand on her forearm. “Don’t be nervous. I am well acquainted with how the Generosity Exchange program works, and I can assure you that you were hand picked. Just because you haven’t spent time teaching before doesn’t mean you aren’t exactly the right choice for our program or that you aren’t very good at what you do. You won’t be alone in the classroom, but you will be bringing valuable knowledge and experience that our students couldn’t get anywhere else. It’s going to be a great experience.”
