by Suat Dervis
What had drawn her in?
It was at that lunch that she’d started comparing him with her husband.
And when, at that same lunch, they’d decided on the outing in his cruiser, a great wave of happiness had passed through her.
So was it after that outing that the change occurred?
They set out early one morning. Early in the spring…
It was not yet sailing season. Though it was very warm that day, almost like summer, and not a cloud in the sky.
Whitecaps as far as the eye could see. And a lively wind filled the sails.
The white cruiser cut through the waves as nimbly as a skipping stone.
It was a humid wind, heavy with the scent of the sea.
It passed its fingers through their hair, sweeping across their bodies like a greedy lover.
Muhsin was standing at the wheel. He was dressed all in white, with his sleeves rolled up and his collar open.
Freed of his usual sober suit, he looked slimmer and more agile than ever. His arms were deeply bronzed. His white hair tousled from the wind. No sign now of the impeccably dressed man with not a hair out of place.
Celile sat at his side, contemplating the clear blue sky and the indigo sea, and warming to the wind’s caress.
She’d let her head fall back, as if to free herself from the weight of her luxuriant red curls. She lifted her dry lips to the wind as if inviting a kiss. A wave of desire swept through her. Oh, to be a plant, turning to the sun. An animal, roaming free. The sun, the sea, the wind—she could feel them in her bones as another wave of joy passed through her.
He was looking at her. He, too, belonged to nature, did he not?
Müjde was behind them, sunbathing in her navy shorts. Ahmet and Nuri were a bit further back, continuing their conversation from the previous night.
Yes, it was that day on the cruiser that Celile stepped from the audience to enter into the world. Never before had she taken such pleasure in the sun, sky, and sea, never had she felt so present.
It was on this day she began to live.
But even if she would come to acknowledge what awoke in her that day, she still felt no affinity to Muhsin.
When did she begin to feel for him? Was it the day Muhsin invited them to the hotel for supper, as his guests?
That night the hotel had an orchestra. All night they danced. And Celile had to admit to herself that she hadn’t danced so happily since she was a girl of eighteen.
Always a graceful dancer, she’d never in her life met a better partner.
He could guide her perfectly, without so much as pressing his hand against her waist. She seemed to know in advance where he’d step. Never did she want the dance to end. It was rare for two bodies to find such harmony.
Celile’s cheeks were flushed. Her heart was pounding.
She was like a girl at her first ball that night, swept aloft by pleasure.
Wasn’t this what had always frightened her most?
That mysterious pull.
The indecent desires it awakened.
She felt ashamed.
After a week at the hotel, they returned to the city so that Ahmet could catch up on his work.
And now two days had passed since their return. Muhsin invited them to a gazino. And that was the night when she surrendered to the mad passion that had secretly taken root in her. Showing no resistance. Handing herself over, body and soul.
It shamed her that she could act so out of character and feel nothing but happiness. And peace.
Celile was a beautiful woman. And in a city like Istanbul, a beautiful woman was always under watch, no matter how private or solitary her life. She could expect many advances, which she could brush aside or accept.
Before she married, and also after—most especially after—various men had made their interest known, but Celile had looked right through them and walked on.
So Muhsin was far from being the first man to have whispered sweet nothings into her ear. She was thirty-five years old, after all. And she was far from being the sort of silly creature who would abandon herself to a man’s first advance or bold gesture. She didn’t need to say a word to make it clear that they could go only so far, and no further.
Until that night at the gazino, when Muhsin whispered those words, and that wave of happiness coursed through her, while her heart beat ever faster.
Now, for the first time, she could dare. She could open herself up. Leave the world behind, to bask in heavenly bliss.
Even in the privacy and security of marriage, Ahmet had never come so close to her as this stranger now was.
Because Celile had always, always, kept Ahmet from her inner world. Never had she let down her guard.
And now she was handing herself over to a man she knew only by his eyes, his gaze, his silences. Holding nothing back.
It had not crossed her mind that Muhsin might think ill of her or her husband. She didn’t even know that Ahmet had chosen this evening to make his first mention of his two-hundred-thousand-lira proposal and arranged to meet in his office in two days’ time.
She’d not heard Ahmet asking for his help in obtaining a bank guarantee.
When he’d spoken of business after returning home, she’d been lost in her own world and her newfound happiness, and she’d not registered a word of what he said.
She’d seen nothing…heard nothing. All she knew was this: she had found herself in the arms of a strange man that evening. He had spoken to her of his feelings, and his whispered words had brought her heavenly peace.
In the car, when he took her tiny hand in his, she’d felt no shame. What a terrifying heaven this was.
How she longed for his hand, his gaze, his voice, his caress…
Who was this woman who could entertain such thoughts? Was this mad and thoughtless creature really her?
She struggled to recognize herself.
A new woman had taken residence inside her. And now that woman was in charge.
A woman with no respect for morality, or concern for those around her.
She was like a wild animal. Lacking consciousness and intelligence. A creature ruled by its drives.
It was like being mad. Except…
No, it was not like anything she’d ever known.
That night, Celile made an astounding discovery. This other woman—this lunatic who knew no morals—was hell-bent on throwing herself into Muhsin’s arms. If the old Celile, the modest and honorable Celile, tried to stand in her way, she would roll right over her.
Why was she so drawn to this man? Why was it that she felt so close to him? This man who knew nothing of her thoughts, her morals, or her past?
Nothing could explain it or excuse it.
She’d been bewitched.
It didn’t matter that she knew almost nothing about this man—that she had no idea how he saw her, understood her, judged her.
That was the most frightening thing—that she had no interest in knowing more about him than the little she already knew. She was like a rock rolling down a mountain, crushing everything in its path. She was racing towards a cliff, hurtling ever faster towards a beckoning abyss.
FIVE
Celile did not leave the apartment for days after that night at the gazino.
This had been their plan all along. Ahmet had warned his wife that he had a lot of work to do. If his meeting in Muhsin’s office was to go as well as he hoped, then he had to be ready to pounce, and that meant making the most of his recent venture into the tin business.
To make the most of his capital, he had to make a success of it. Once again, he was up against the Şükranzades, who wanted it all to themselves. Already they were lying in ambush.
Celile knew nothing about any of his business affairs, let alone the proposal he’d be taking to Muhsin. Ahmet had spoken of no
thing else over the past two days, but the young woman had understood not a word of it. She’d just gazed into the distance, her mind in a daze.
Summer had come early, and it was very hot inside. Celile wandered about her apartment like a sleepwalker.
She lacked the energy to do any more. Her head ached. She was suffering, she thought, from an illness she could not name.
She’d lost interest in every aspect of her old life. She’d become a stranger in her own house. She’d furnished it with such care, delighting in her every new purchase, but now…Her sofa would not yield to her body’s curves. And that lamp. That sewing basket, those knitting needles. They sat there like orphans, untouched and unloved.
As if their owner had already left.
Had she been suffering from a fever, ever since that night at the gazino?
Beset by emotions that were entirely new to her, she could no longer believe that she would ever again go back to being the calm, quiet, cool-headed woman she’d once been.
Even if she had tried, the telephone would have stopped her. The telephone gave her no peace. The telephone, and the voice that found its way to her whenever Ahmet was out of the house.
Muhsin’s voice, burning its way down the line. It was deep, it was imperious. And it wouldn’t let up. It was driving her half-mad.
“I want to see you. Can’t you understand? I want to see you alone.”
“It’s not possible.”
“I beg you. Please.”
“I beg you too. Please. Do not insist.”
Silence at the other end of the line. Until Celile had very gently replaced the receiver.
He called her three times. Three times over two days. And how difficult it was to say no to him three times in a row.
Had any other man pursued her in this fashion, she would have judged him insolent and crude. So why did Muhsin’s insistent voice bring her such just maddening joy?
Why did it grieve her so to turn down his bold invitation?
Wasn’t it disrespectful that he should pursue her in this way? She was a respectable married woman, after all!
All her life she’d taken a dim view of wives who had affairs. Throughout her marriage, she’d been known and admired for her morals.
But now…Suddenly…She had been yanked from a lifetime of peaceful monotony. Not even when she was a young girl, not even in the first days of her marriage, had she known such joy. Never had such a fever touched her cheeks.
How fierce this hurricane of ecstasy! How wild this whirlwind of pleasure!
And now two days had passed since the gazino. Ahmet came home, flush with excitement.
“Celile! It’s good news! I think this is going to work. This Muhsin is an angel. An angel! He’s said he can probably arrange the bank guarantee for me.”
Muhsin had called again that day, and again she had cried, “It’s not possible!” and hung up.
Muhsin. Muhsin’s voice. His voice on the phone, and after she’d hung up on him, she’d felt something inside her break.
These deals, these negotiations, these bank guarantees and great sums of money—they meant nothing to her.
That night Ahmet was almost sick with anticipation. He didn’t sleep a wink.
He’d always liked his sleep. So this was something new.
Celile didn’t sleep that night either.
“He’s going to speak to the necessary people. To make sure I keep my hands on this deal. Once I get this bank guarantee, do you think I’ll even need to go in with Nazmi Iskenderun? You wait and see…If we don’t have a mansion on the island and an apartment in Taksim by this time next year, then my name isn’t Ahmet!”
Celile closed her eyes to feign sleep.
“Just imagine, Celile…”
But Celile was in no shape to imagine anything. All she could do was ask herself, “Will he call again tomorrow?”
Did he call again tomorrow?
Yes, he did. He called her again that day, and for the next three days, until, on the evening of the third day, Ahmet called home and said, “Get dressed, little wife. We’re coming to collect you in an hour.”
And then, in an offhand voice, as if to suggest it was all in the business of a normal day—and perhaps meaning to impress Lefteryadis, who had just dropped by the office, he added: “By ‘we’ I mean myself and Muhsin Demirtaş. He just called. Asked if we were free. The heat is getting to him. He’s suggested an evening out.”
Celile felt her throat go dry. She couldn’t speak.
“Hello? Hello? Celile, are you there? Did you hear me?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Are you in a bad mood? Is that it? Don’t you want to go out? You know how insistent Muhsin can be. I didn’t want to offend him.”
He glanced over at Lefteryadis to watch his eyes widen.
Still, Celile said nothing.
“You’ll be ready for us, won’t you?”
“Yes…Yes!”
And to keep herself from saying anything untoward, she slammed down the phone.
An hour!
An hour…They would see each other again, in just an hour? For the first time since that night…
After five days of phone calls…
He was on his way…Once again, they would be together…Once again, she would meet his stern gaze and hear his plaintive voice. Once again, he would reach out to press her hand in his.
And then?
What would happen then?
As she sat before her mirror arranging her hair, she asked herself this question over and over.
If he looked into her eyes, again to press his claim, would she find the strength to refuse him?
No…No, she would not.
She didn’t want him pressing her.
At the same time, she knew she would be devastated if he didn’t.
What was happening to her?
She’d never been plagued by emotions so contradictory.
As she donned her white dress, a new question came unbidden into her mind: “Will he find me pleasing?”
So was this how women set about deceiving their husbands? Wasn’t this alone an act of infidelity?
If it wasn’t, then it was certainly the first step!
Deep down she knew she was committing a sin.
When she heard the knock on the door, her heart started pounding so fast she could hardly breathe. She felt exhausted, elated.
Ahmet headed to the door ahead of the maid. “Come on in, Muhsin Bey! Welcome to our home!”
Celile was standing in the salon. She was very pale. Her eyes were burning bright.
Muhsin, too, was somewhat pale. His lips looked thinner and his frown deeper.
Bringing his lips to Celile’s hand, he could feel how very cold it was.
Ahmet was as bright and noisy as ever.
“The city’s baking hot,” he said. “You’ve been complaining about it for days, but you refuse to go out to the island. You’d think you’re worried your husband will get eaten by wolves if you’re not here.”
Celile didn’t let her husband kiss her on the lips that night.
Even though it was their normal custom.
“I must have made some sort of gaffe,” he told himself. “Broken some high society rule, maybe.”
Ahmet went off to wash and change, leaving Celile and Muhsin to sit across from each other in the armchairs in the alcove. On the table between them sat a bowl of ice and two glasses of cognac and soda.
The room was dim.
And silent.
Celile looked down and said nothing. Muhsin said nothing.
Muhsin said nothing while looking straight into Celile’s eyes.
A warm breeze wafted in from the balcony, ruffling the tulle curtains.
How long did this silence last? Nei
ther had the faintest idea!
Their hearts were both pounding, and their ears ringing. Loud enough to fill the whole room—the entire apartment.
While neither spoke. Though Muhsin…
Muhsin had not come here tonight to stay silent. He had come to settle a matter that had occupied him for a month now, and that had over the past five days caused him anguish.
He was no longer a man of twenty-five. He had no time for hesitation or delay.
Now they could hear Ahmet talking at the other end of the corridor. He was admonishing one of the maids. But he could be back at any moment to bring this precious interlude to a close.
Muhsin had suggested this evening out with one thought in mind. To seize some moments alone with her. Now this opportunity had arrived, a bit sooner than he’d hoped.
“Celile…
“Please, listen.”
Celile looked up. He was reaching out to her with both hands. Taking her hands in his, he was leaning towards her.
And then…
Celile felt his warm lips on hers. And she did not pull away.
Impossible.
She knew nothing of this man. Nothing of his past, his character, his feelings. But she could not begrudge his lips. She loved him.
Yes, it was true.
She loved him.
SIX
After that night at the gazino, Muhsin had called Celile again and again to tell her they must meet.
Each time she’d refused him, she’d gone up in his estimation.
At the same time, it had puzzled him that a woman who had shown herself so pliant on the dance floor should be so prudish as to hang up on him each time he called.
She was trying his patience.
Muhsin was a confirmed bachelor. His wide experience in life had given him a low opinion of marriage.
He was well aware of how obliging a married woman could be—especially when she had been approached by a man who could make her husband a two-hundred-thousand-lira profit.
Until that moment when he’d proposed that deal, Muhsin had quite liked Ahmet. But the moment the man had mentioned the two hundred thousand liras, Muhsin had seen his true colors.
