Awkward in Love

by Lily Adile Lamb

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN - Elif

  “That’s it. I’ve had enough, Ercan,” Elif said into the phone, almost shouting at her husband. “It’s been two weeks and you are still refusing to speak with your son. This is wrong!”

  “No! No! You listen to me, Ercan! Don’t you interrupt me. All these years, I looked after you and loved you with all my heart. I put up with your hissy fits too… Yes, I said hissy fits. That’s right. You have often thrown tantrums to get your own way, and I was okay with that until you turned on our son. How dare you treat him so shabbily without giving him a chance to speak? What? How dare you! I did not abandon you or our wedding vows. You abandoned us with your attitude. I want you to come and apologize. You come right now and make your peace! No? Did you say no to me? Well… We’ll see about that.”

  Elif shook with anger as she hung up on her husband. She burst into tears because she missed him, but knew she couldn't leave her son alone, either.

  She walked to the window to look at the park. She smiled when she saw a child running and his mother chasing after him. She remembered those days when Ilhan used to run off to chase a bird in their local park. How about the time, when I went to do the shopping with him? He was a baby sleeping in his pram. After picking up what I needed, I went to the checkout and paid for my shopping, then left the supermarket. I nearly fainted when I realized I'd left my boy sleeping in the pram by the potatoes.

  She almost laughed aloud at that memory. Or when Ercan changed his nappy for the first time. The boy peed on his father’s hand when he'd opened the nappy. She got tearful again, remembering Ercan’s baba—his father—seeing Ilhan for the first time. The poor man was so proud holding his first grandson. He took the child straight to the local kahvehane –the coffee shop for men—to show his grandson to his buddies.

  Hang on a sec! Why haven’t I thought of this! I have nothing to lose but I'll give it my best shot. As an idea formed in her head, Elif felt relieved. This was better than sitting around moping.

  Ercan, I've got you where it hurts the most. She picked the phone up to make a long distance call with shaky hands.

  “Baba?—Dad? It’s Elif. How are you?” Elif listened to her father-in-law as her heart beat furiously.

  At the end of the conversation, Elif was sobbing. “Tesekkur ederim, baba. Lutfen, cabuk gel. Seni cok ozledik ve sana burada cok ihtiyacimiz var. Tamam. Sen biletini aldiginda bana bu numaradan telefon et.” She hung up, relieved that Ercan’s father hadn’t hesitated to say yes, and was on his way to help them.

  As soon as she'd hung up, Elif took a deep breath and stood silent until her heart beat slowed to its normal rate. Baba was the head of the family as he was the eldest male and no matter how far he lived, his word was the law. As she bit her thumbnail, she thought this was the first time she went behind her husband to help her family. Once she felt calmer, she went and washed her face with cold water to gather her bearings and then she phoned her new best friend John.

  “John? Have you got a minute to talk to me? Oh. Bless you. Come upstairs cos I need to tell you something. No. Don’t tell him yet. I want to talk to you first. Okay. See you in a minute.” She sounded breathless like she'd run a mile, but she didn't care. John was coming to meet her.

  Elif went to the kitchen to make his coffee, and cut a slice of the walnut and coffee cake she'd made. She knew how much John liked her cakes and she wanted to indulge her son's boyfriend.

  “Did you bake my favorite cake, Elif?” John sniffed the air appreciatively as he followed her into the lounge.

  She couldn’t stop her blush or her piggy snort.

  “Gel, gel—come, come. I baked it for you, son.” Elif was determined to teach him some Turkish and was proud of him for trying so hard but all her enthusiasm left her when she saw John’s frozen expression. She thought hard about what she said that made him look so shocked and wide-eyed, his eyes welling.

  John wiped his eyes. “Sorry, it’s been a long time since anyone’s been around to call me ‘son.’”

  When she heard him saying that, she realized how touched he was that she accepted him as part of her family. In that instant, without thinking but responding to his sorrow and gladness, she opened her arms to him.

  “Gel.” The mum in her still remembered to teach him Turkish as she called him to come to her. She felt lost in his big arms considering she was just a little taller than five feet. She let him hug her tight as she rubbed his back. “You are a son to me. Ilhan chose you and I welcome you.”

  When she felt another pair of arms around them, she laughed “Boys, your Ping-Pong sized mum can’t breathe, and she is salivating over her cake now. Come on. Let’s eat.”

  As they tasted the cake and sipped their coffee, Elif relayed her conversation with Ilhan’s father and grandfather in her expressive ways, flailing her arms, and shaking her head furiously as she got more excited.

  At the end of the conversation, John stood up and hugged her tightly. “Thank you, Elif. This means a lot to Ilhan. He needs to be with me and his family. Thank you.”

  Elif hugged him tighter when she heard how choked he sounded. She knew by now how emotional John was, even if he tried hard to look rough and tough.

  “Once baba comes, he will sort everything out. You mark my words. Ercan will be shocked when he sees his father here.”

  “Is his father very important?” John asked, his head tilted.

  “In our culture, our elder's words count. As a son, he can’t ignore his father and his father adores Ilhan. I told him what happened and baba was angry at Ercan. He did not judge Ilhan or you and that’s good enough for me,” Elif spoke with confidence.

  “Okay, you tell me when to pick him up from the airport and we'll tell everything to Ilhan tonight, okay?”

  That night Elif prepared a three course Turkish dinner for her boys. She felt protective of them. They are my boys and look good together. I shall fight for them both.

  When they both turned up at her door, Elif felt her heart skip a beat because they looked so happy together. They stood in front of her with hopeful expressions. Oh. Bless them. They look so young together, holding hands like that.

  “Come in. Come in. Don’t stand there like a guest. Both of you are my boys.” She ushered them in. Ilhan’s table was small but enough for the three of them. When her son looked surprised at her creations, she cleared her throat, “Otur oğlum —sit down my son. John, otur means sit, okay?” She grinned at him.

  John’s eyes widened when he saw what she’d made and the saliva jetted into his mouth. There was fragrant köfte —Turkish meatballs with finely chopped onions, and parsley served with buttery pilav rice on the side Ilhan had cooked before. An inviting salad bowl of finely chopped lettuce, capsicum, cucumber, tomato and onions, was dressed with olive oil and lemon juice. And something John hadn’t had before—fried vegetables garnished with cacik, a garlic yoghurt sauce made with grated cucumber on the side for his kebap. Where would he start?

  “Wow, you’re cooked us a wonderful feast here, Elif. Thank you.”

  “This is our custom. We like to make sure everyone eats well. It’s a mother’s pride and joy to serve her family. I think you’ll love my revani… That’s the name of the semolina cake I made for you boys. It’s a very old recipe from Ottoman times.”

  It stood off to the side and looked mouth-watering too, generously drizzled in its rose-scented syrup.

  She encouraged John to have more than what he put on his plate. She forgot to be modern and reverted back to how her mother and mother-in-law used to be—a motherly but interfering mum who kept putting more and more on the plates to ensure everyone was full.

  After they finished the three-course-meal, John did nothing but praise her cooking. Ilhan kept mooning over John, which made Elif remember her younger days engaged to his father. Ercan used to moon over her like her son was doing to John. As she brought thick Turkish coffee in traditional tiny, delicate porcelain coffee cups, she looked at John. He was watchi
ng her every move in a way that made her feel respected because he seemed to be ready to offer help.

  The strong Turkish coffee smelt heavenly to John, reminding him of Italian expresso he sometimes had as a treat. He only had it occasionally because of its strength, and he usually felt like he was buzzing from caffeine overload.

  John groaned. “I’m not sure I can even fit in a coffee. I’m so full but it looks so frothy and inviting.”

  “The froth on Turkish coffee is essential, John. There’s an art to making a proper coffee. It’s delicate and very slow work. No froth on coffee? Then you know the host rushed. Back in my days, a girl’s housewifely skill involved making the coffee too. When my in-laws came to ask for my hand from my parents, my mum-in-law checked her coffee. God rest her soul. She was a firm but kind woman.” She cleared her throat when she realized she’d prattled on a bit, then launched into what she needed to tell her son.

  “Ilhan, I asked your grandfather to come over here, son. I'm hoping within a week, he'll land here.” She coughed and kicked John’s foot gently when she Ilhan lost his color.

  John put his arm around Ilhan and comforted him. “Ilhan, trust your mum. Your granddad is coming here to help you, okay, sweetheart?” When Ilhan nodded his head, he bent down and kissed it. “Trust her, okay? I do. She's working so hard to help us. Your mum is tougher than a bunch of marine soldiers!” He hugged his man as he winked at Elif which made her giggle.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN - Ilhan

  Ilhan tried to look brave and confident as he stood beside his mother and John, waiting for his grandfather to go through customs at Perth International Airport. But his knees shook and his stomach was in knots. No matter how much they tried to convince him that his grandfather was coming to help, he still felt fearful.

  “There he is!” Elif almost screamed as she yanked Ilhan's sleeve. His knees felt like they'd turned to jelly and he clutched John’s arm.

  John grinned at Ilhan. “We look like the human version of an elephant family, holding on to each other’s arms instead of tails.”

  Ilhan almost giggled, but the anxiety had him by the throat. However, when John whispered in his ear, “But you can hold my tail when we go home,” Ilhan giggled and rolled his eyes at his cheesy joke.

  “You cheesy dork. I'll show you what I'll do with your err...tail.” He poked his side and got the response he wanted, which was a squeal.

  “Baba! Buradayiz!—we’re here!” His mother waved, and called to his granddad.

  When Ilhan saw his grandfather, his heart swelled with love. He looked like an older version of his father. He wore a pair of black slacks, white shirt and a grey cardigan clearly knitted by someone. He was wearing a typical Turkish dark brown beret on his head. All he carried was a humble, small suitcase which made Ilhan think he wasn't planning to stay long.

  Spotting them, his grandfather beamed, then waved, and hurried toward them.

  “Baba!” His mother ran to the old man and kissed his hand respectfully as all Turks do when they greet their elders. Ilhan felt tearful when he grandfather kissed his mum on the forehead. She tried to take his small suitcase, but the old man shook his head negatively. He stood for a few seconds, looking intensely at Ilhan and John together.

  Ilhan noticed John stood straighter beside him while his grandfather studied them. His heart sank with anxiety in case the old man was going to reject them, but he exhaled when his grandfather smiled warmly at them.

  “Dede. Hosgeldiniz—welcome,” Ilhan greeted him respectfully as he kissed the old man’s worn out hands, wrinkled and chapped. His grandfather worked in the fields as a farmer and never wore gloves. Ilhan held his hardworking hand and spoke to him in Turkish. “Granddad, this is my boyfriend, John.”

  His grandfather nodded his head to John and said, “Merhaba, oglum.”

  “My granddad said hello, my son.”

  When John tried to kiss the old man’s hand, his grandfather said no firmly, “Hayir,” and shook hands with John.

  “Ilhan, tell your man, I am happy to meet him,” he said in Turkish. When Ilhan translated for John, he felt proud of him for the way he respectfully touched his chest and said, “Merhaba, Dede—Hello, Grandfather.”

  Ilhan smiled at his man with pride for making an effort to speak in Turkish.

  They all insisted Dede sit in the front as John drove them home. He let his mother talk with his dede and tell him everything. Every time John looked at him through the rear view mirror, Ilhan winked to reassure him.

  Then his granddad dropped a bombshell by informing them he'd phoned his father and told him to come to Perth today. Ilhan quickly translated for John and when he nodded his head, Ilhan said, “What? Why are you so calm, John?” he asked almost belligerently.

  “I'm not calm, love. I just suspected something like this,” he replied.

  His mother translated what they said to his dede.

  “Ilhan, all will be well. Your dad will be here tonight. He promised me. Elif and I will speak to Ercan alone, and tomorrow we shall meet with you both, tamam mi—okay?” his dede spoke with authority.

  It forced Ilhan to respond, “Evet, Dede—Yes, Granddad.” He was there in the flesh, but not in spirit as he kept contemplating all the possible scenarios for tomorrow.

  When they arrived home, John took Dede’s suitcase and Ilhan's mum guided him upstairs slowly.

  “Mum. Where are you going to stay? There's only one room in the apartment,” Ilhan whispered.

  “I shall sleep on your sofa, kuzum,” his mother whispered back.

  “Err…Mum. We also have only one bedroom,” he informed his mother.

  “I know. I already spoke with John. He won't let me go to a hotel and offered to open the sofa bed. My God, he's so nice, Ilhan and like a son to me already. You chose well. I’m proud of you,” his mother whispered back as John guided Dede with sign language and broken Turkish.

  “Tamam?” he said.

  He left his mum and dede upstairs, and they went downstairs to John’s flat, sprawling out on the sofa.

  “How come you didn’t tell me about Mum spending the night here?” he asked casually.

  “It was decided only this morning, Ilhan. I couldn’t let her sleep at a hotel,” John answered casually.

  “You know Mum adores you now, right?” Ilhan asked as he grabbed the John's hand.

  “Yeah, and I adore her too,” John spoke softly.

  Ilhan let go of the breath he held and slid down to rest his head on John’s lap. That night neither slept well. They kept waking up and hugging each other.

  The next morning, Ilhan had no appetite, and John took the day off work. They made coffee and toast for breakfast, but neither of them felt like eating much. Ilhan noticed John was nervous too.

  “Come here.” He pulled John’s arm in to the bedroom.

  “I just want to lie down with you, you okay with that?” he asked quietly.

  “Yeah. Me too, baby. Come on. Let’s snuggle up for a bit.” John took off his shirt.

  When Ilhan put his head on the same pillow, John pulled him closer.

  “I’m scared,” Ilhan whispered.

  “I know, baby.” John hugged him tightly, stroking his hair and offering comfort.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN - Ercan

  “No. Ercan,” Dede spoke with authority. “You were wrong to kick your flesh and blood out.”

  “But, Baba, he's gay and is dating our caretaker! What about our honor? Our family name? How about Elif? She left me to support our homosexual son?” Ercan raised his voice in agitation as he gave Elif an accusing look. He was furious at his wife for abandoning him.

  “How could you leave me? How could you break your wedding vows?” he asked Elif in anger.

  “Hush now, son!” His father abruptly interrupted him, which made Ercan startle.

  “Father! Do you know what a homosexual is?” He challenged his father, thinking a village man wouldn't understand such terms.

  “Oh. I understand more
than you do, Ercan,” his father growled.

  “Then tell me!” Ercan demanded.

  “How dare you! Remember your place, Ercan. I’m still the head of this family. Don’t you challenge me!” His father raised his voice which sparked a fear in Ercan. It brought back memories of how strict his father used to be when he was young and single.

  “Pardon, Baba.” Ercan bowed his head in respect.

  “I shall tell you how I know what a homosexual is. First of all, let me remind you, men loved men as much as men loved women throughout the history of mankind. Women loved women too, son. Anyone who denied this is simply a fool.” His father leaned forward as he spoke to him.

  “Elif, sit down beside your husband. You have not left him, so we know that. Ignore Ercan’s drama, daughter,” he said softly to Elif.

  Ercan's heart skipped a beat when he felt his wife sit beside him. His pride stung at the way she challenged him, so he couldn’t bring himself to look at her, but he felt her warmth. That was enough to melt some of his anger and hurt.

  “Son. Look at me and listen to me very carefully,” his father said. Ercan sat straighter and focused on his father.

  “You do not know this, but I had a brother… He was two years older than me, so we were as close as twins.”

  Ercan froze in shock. He'd never heard of this before. As far as he knew, his father was the oldest in the family.

  “Ahmet… That was his name. He was a gentle soul and suffered a lot because of his…softness, you know. He was the reason I married your grandmother, God rest her soul. Without him, she and I never would’ve spoken and married. My father used to beat him a lot to make him more manly, but Ahmet never changed. He remained soft and gentle. We knew he was different, so he was shunned in the neighborhood and your grandfather became angrier in his shame.”