Without a Country

by Kulin, Ayse

  A tear was glistening on Madame’s cheek. Suzi brushed it away.

  “Be happy—don’t wait—” Madame whispered.

  “Please get well. Come home. I’m begging you.”

  “My turn,” Demir said as he walked into the room.

  A nurse asked Suzi to wait in the hall. Only one visitor was allowed at a time. Suzi walked out to the others and burst into tears.

  “Is it serious?” Elsa asked Suzi, holding out her arms.

  “I don’t know, Mutti. This is the first time I’ve ever visited someone in the hospital. At least Madame doesn’t know about what happened. We shouldn’t say anything about her window or the riots.”

  “Of course not!” Sevim Elliman said. “Raif Efendi is having a new window installed today. If she’s able to go home, she won’t even notice.”

  “She won’t be going home for a while.” Demir had walked up behind them.

  “Why don’t you go in next, Auntie Sevim?” Suzi said. “And Simon and Selin can wait by the door.”

  In a low voice, Suzi asked Demir if he had told Madame.

  “Yes,” Demir said.

  “Told her what?” Elsa asked.

  “Some good news.”

  “Demir, if you have good news, please share it with me, too,” Elsa said.

  Demir looked uncertainly at Suzi.

  “Mutti, Demir and I got engaged yesterday.”

  Elsa opened her mouth, shut it again, and swallowed. She didn’t want to cause a scene in front of Demir or show how hurt she was. Her daughter had gotten engaged without a word to her or her father. Even worse, she’d told an old neighbor first. What had Elsa done to deserve this? Where had she gone wrong?

  “Congratulations,” she said through tight lips.

  An Unexpected Guest

  Elsa, who had opened the door expecting to find the grocer’s errand boy, was taken aback to see Hanna and her daughter, Rozi, instead. Rozi was wearing her hair in a ponytail and had grown several inches, at least. That tartan skirt fit her perfectly now. Would Suzi recognize her old clothes?

  “Good morning!” Hanna said. “I know I should have called first, but I figured Herr Schliemann would be at work.”

  “Hanna! You gave me your word!” Elsa said. But she showed them into the sitting room anyway.

  “I had to see you. I need to ask a favor. The riots nearly ruined us. You should have seen the shop. What they didn’t steal, they destroyed. The floor was ankle-deep in ribbons, yarn, buttons . . .”

  “I’m so sorry to hear that, Hanna. Now, I’ve set aside some things for Rozi, but I’m going to have to ask you again. Will you promise never to come here again without calling first? Believe me, if Gerhard saw you here, it would be unpleasant for everyone.”

  “Elsa, I wanted to ask if you could—”

  The bell rang and Hanna stopped midsentence. Elsa got to her feet, but paused when she saw Suzi running down the hall to the door.

  In stepped Eleni the seamstress, carrying a velvet dress wrapped in gauze.

  “Is that a dress?” Hanna called.

  “It’s Suzi’s engagement dress,” Eleni said. “I designed it myself.”

  “Suzi! Are you getting engaged?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Go kiss your big sister and congratulate her,” Hanna told Rozi.

  “Big sister? I’d prefer if she called me Suzi.”

  “When’s the wedding and, more importantly, who’s the groom?” Hanna asked.

  “You know him,” Elsa said. “Suzi’s childhood friend, Demir. The dress is for the engagement dinner with the family.”

  “And I’m not considered family, of course. I left my real family behind to come to Turkey with you. And my husband’s family has never accepted me because I’m German. I don’t mind for myself, but I do feel sorry for Rozi. She doesn’t deserve to be treated like this.”

  “That’s enough, Hanna,” Suzi said with a glance at Elsa. “I’m sure Rozi doesn’t mind one bit. Children don’t worry about things like that.”

  “I’m not a child,” Rozi said.

  “You’re a child until you turn eighteen!”

  “That means I only have to wait three years.”

  Suzi was helping Eleni carry the package to her bedroom, when Hanna said, “Go help your big sister try on her engagement dress, Rozi.”

  “Don’t call me that! My name is Suzi.”

  Rozi followed Suzi into the bedroom without a word.

  “Hanna, you really shouldn’t go on like that. That’s why Gerhard and Suzi avoid you,” Elsa said.

  Hanna was preparing a retort when Rozi tottered back into the sitting room in Suzi’s high heels.

  “Rozi, take those off at once,” Hanna said. “You’ll fall and break your neck.”

  “I won’t fall. And they fit me perfectly. Can I have some?”

  “I didn’t buy Suzi high heels until she was seventeen,” Elsa said.

  “Girls are growing up faster these days,” Hanna said.

  Elsa got up and said, “I have a few sweaters and skirts I’d like to give Rozi.” As she was leaving the room, she turned and said, “You were going to ask me for a favor. What is it?”

  “I wonder if you could spare a little something. School starts next week, and there are so many extra expenses, things I need to get Rozi. If it hadn’t been for the riots—”

  “I don’t have any money at home. But I’ll come by the shop next week and leave you what I can.”

  “The shop? The shop’s a wreck. Perhaps you could mention this to Herr Schliemann. I’m sure he’d be willing to help.”

  “I doubt that. Hanna, I don’t know what you did to him, but he doesn’t even want to hear your name. Still, I’ll do what I can. We must support each other at a time like this.”

  “Thank you,” Hanna said.

  When Elsa returned with the clothing, she remained standing. The visit was apparently over.

  Hanna stood up and tossed her hair. “The engagement ceremony is one thing, Elsa, but Rozi and I expect to be invited to the wedding.”

  Elsa bit her lip. In the entry hall, Rozi reluctantly slipped off Suzi’s heels and put on her own shoes. When they were gone, Elsa shook her head. “The nerve!”

  A moment later, Suzi tripped into the sitting room in a midnight-blue dress with a fitted waist and flared skirt.

  “Beautiful!” Elsa gushed, completely forgetting how upset she’d been at the hospital. “I wish you’d dress like this more often.”

  “You want me to wear velvet every day?”

  “No. What I meant is, it’s just nice to see you in a dress for a change.”

  Eleni intervened in time to stop the mother and daughter from squabbling over Suzi’s style choices yet again.

  “I saved enough velvet for a pair of shoes. I was thinking kitten-heel pumps. Let’s order them now so they’re ready in time.”

  “There’s no need!” Suzi said.

  “You’re not thinking of wearing flats with that dress, I hope!”

  “Mother, I already have that pair of stilettos. Rozi didn’t take them, did she?” Suzi found the shoes in the entry hall and put them on.

  “Those won’t do,” Eleni said. “Shoes and dresses in matching fabrics are all the rage this year. And get the hairdresser to brush your hair under in a soft roll.”

  “I like my hair straight. I don’t care what’s fashionable.”

  “After I worked so hard on that dress, you can’t get engaged with stringy hair.”

  At dinner that night, while Elsa was in the kitchen fetching dessert, Suzi complained to her father. “They’re trying to turn me into an old frump. Who matches their shoes to their dress? I wouldn’t be surprised if Demir takes one look at me and changes his mind.”

  “And I wouldn’t be surprised if he sent you back after a month,” Gerhard teased. “That tongue of yours sent Peter all the way to America. How will our young groom manage?”

  “We dodged a bullet today, Dad. Hanna visited and tri
ed to guilt us into inviting her to the engagement dinner. Luckily, Mom wasn’t having it.”

  “Please don’t mention that woman at the dinner table. Just her name is enough to give me heartburn,” Gerhard said.

  Elsa nearly dropped the platter of baklava she was carrying down the hall. She wheeled around and went back into the kitchen. Oh, Suzi, she thought, why couldn’t you keep your mouth shut?

  But later that night, when Elsa and Gerhard were alone, he didn’t say a word about Hanna. After he gave her a good-night kiss and rolled over in bed, she put down her book and stayed propped up against her pillow for a long while, thinking. Her husband, while as principled as ever, was becoming more forgiving and flexible in his middle age. He fully approved of Demir, a hardworking young man of good character with a promising future as a civil engineer. Still, if Elsa was honest with herself, she wouldn’t have chosen a Muslim Turk as a son-in-law. She supposed it was fate that had brought her family to Turkey and fate that had decreed that her daughter would fall in love with the little boy upstairs. She briefly entertained and quickly rejected the notion that all these years of living among Turks had turned her into a fatalist. No. She and Peter would always be German through and through. And she would return to her native land one day.

  Elsa had expected Suzi to outgrow her childhood infatuation with Demir. As a young girl, she herself had had eyes for a neighbor boy. But the crush had faded, as they always do. She’d patiently waited for the same thing to happen to Suzi, certain that a new school and a new neighborhood would mean new boys. When Demir had come home from France with a girlfriend, Elsa had thought Suzi would finally move on.

  How wrong she had been. It didn’t seem right for a girl to get engaged without ever having looked at any other boys. But there was nothing Elsa could do or say now. And it wasn’t as though she had anything against Demir. Although it would be nice if the Atalays weren’t quite so Turkish. If Bedia Atalay knew a little English or German, they could have become friends. And the father, Nazmi, didn’t speak a word of German, either. Elsa laughed at herself. The Atalays were probably wondering why her Turkish was still so halting after all these years. She supposed it was because she’d always planned on returning to Germany. In the end, she was a guest here. It was different for Gerhard. She knew that if he returned to Germany, it would be for her sake. She’d asked him recently why he still blamed all Germans for Hitler’s madness. He’d said that silence was complicity. Well, perhaps, but those who did dare to speak out ended up dead or in exile. She appreciated Gerhard’s point of view—his family had died in a concentration camp, after all. But why had Suzi agreed with her father? If only Peter were here! He’d always understood her best. He would have taken her side.

  Elsa switched off the lamp and stretched out in bed, feeling as isolated now as ever before in her life.

  Life Changes

  On the surface, life returned to normal in the weeks after the infamous riots of September. Right on cue, in late October, came an Indian summer.

  The Ellimans and Atalays decided to take advantage of the fine weather with a weekend trip to Büyükada, the largest of the islands off Istanbul’s Asian shore. Would Elsa and Suzi care to join them? Elsa was hesitant. They lived a stone’s throw from the Bosphorus, so why go anywhere else? Still, she relented for Suzi’s sake. She was eager to spend as much time as possible with Demir. Rooms were booked at the Splendid Hotel and an itinerary was agreed upon. First, the young people would take a dip at Nizam Beach. Then the entire group would climb the cobbled path to Aya Yorgi Church to light candles and make wishes, and, last of all, they would take a grand tour in horse-drawn carriages. The following day, they’d feast on fish near the quay before catching a ferry back to the city.

  On the way to the island, they were sitting in the first-class section of the ferry, waiting for their tea. It was crowded and noisy, but a strident voice caught Suzi’s ear.

  “You’re in Turkey! Speak Turkish!”

  Suzi turned and saw a plump woman in a frilly hat.

  “Were you talking to me?” she asked the woman.

  “No.”

  “I’ve been speaking German with my mother.”

  “I wasn’t talking to you.”

  “Then who were you talking to?”

  “Those Greeks over there. They should speak Turkish.”

  “And why’s that?”

  “Because this is Turkey.”

  “Am I allowed to speak German?”

  “Of course you are.”

  “So German is allowed, but Greek isn’t. Is that it?”

  “I wasn’t talking to you.”

  “They weren’t talking to you, either.”

  “In Turkey, we speak Turkish!”

  “Let’s say you were traveling in Germany. Wouldn’t you have the right to speak Turkish with your husband?”

  “Who do you think you are? I don’t have to answer to you.”

  “Hey!” Demir said, standing up. “You’d better watch how you talk to my fiancée.”

  The mustachioed man sitting next to the woman said, “That’s enough, wife! And sit down, young man. This has nothing to do with you. Why are you causing trouble?”

  Two Greek women and a child got up and went down the stairs to a lower deck.

  “I’m Turkish, too, but that doesn’t give me the right to tell people what language to speak,” Demir continued. “See what you’ve done? They left because of you.”

  “They live in Turkey. Turks should speak Turkish,” the man said.

  “But their mother tongue is Greek!”

  “They should be more Turkish.”

  “Maybe you should be more human!” was Suzi’s retort. She slung her bag over her shoulder and stood up, sputtering. “Is there no escape from these fascists? First Germany, and now—”

  “Fascists? You’re the fascists!” the man shouted. “German spawn!”

  Demir made a fist, and Elsa seized both his arm and Suzi’s. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s go sit somewhere else.”

  The Ellimans, Atalays, Elsa, and Suzi started looking around, but there were no free seats in first class. They had to separate into smaller groups and squeeze onto the wooden benches on a lower deck. Bedia Hanım leaned over and whispered in her son’s ear, “Are you sure you want to marry that girl? Mark my words; she’ll get you both into trouble.”

  Try as they might to shrug off the disturbing incident on the ferry, some of the pleasure had already gone out of the outing before they’d even reached the island. It was a sign of things to come. The September riots had changed everything. The corruption, greed, and insularity of the Ottoman ruling class had led to the collapse of the empire. Now, the cultural mosaic of Turkey was crumbling due to governance that was inept in a whole new way.

  The Greeks were leaving.

  Life on the islands and in Beyoğlu was losing some of its shine. Particularly hard hit would be that quintessentially Istanbul institution, the meyhane, where the skilled Greek waiters would guide customers through the treacherous waters of alcohol consumption. In a city with no tradition of bars and barmen, it was the Greek waiter who officiated, commiserated, restrained, and encouraged. The meyhanes of Istanbul would never recover.

  Then November arrived, bringing cold rains to the city and bereavement to Grenadier Street.

  When the doctors had decided in September that Madame was still too weak for an operation, her neighbors had brought her home and arranged for a live-in nurse. Madame appreciated their love and kindness, but she was ready to die. A bedridden life would be absurd, she decided. Particularly at her age. Morning and night, she prayed to meet her maker. By the end of October, she had summoned her attorney, drawn up her will, and bid farewell to each of her neighbors. She was ready. To Suzi’s talk of a wedding the following summer, she turned a deaf ear. She couldn’t wait that long.

  And as it turned out, Suzi and Demir couldn’t either.

  It must have been eleven days since Madame had passed, f
or Demir had already placed eleven chrysanthemums on her bed. Suzi had come up with the idea of placing a flower a day, for forty days, on Madame’s rose-colored satin sheets. It was also Suzi’s idea to wait until the fortieth day after Madame’s death to make the traditional cinnamon-scented semolina. This funeral halvah would be distributed to the bereaved in the Atalay house. Fatma would oversee the frying of the pine nuts and semolina, but everyone who had loved Madame would take their turn at stirring the halvah. In this way, Suzi sought to combine elements of the death rituals of all the Peoples of the Book: Jewish, Christian, and Muslim. After the funeral at Madame’s church, Sevim Elliman had invited all the neighbors over and served them hard-boiled eggs and wine. They each drew on their different customs and beliefs in their shared grief for Madame.

  “I can understand about the halvah,” Demir’s mother complained, “but what is the meaning of the forty chrysanthemums?”

  “Mother, you know how much Madame loved flowers,” Demir said. “Suzi thought it would please her. Don’t you dare say anything about it in front of her.”

  “But it’s ridiculous!”

  “She’s just lost her grandmother. This is how she’s coping.”

  “Grandmother? The woman was her neighbor.”

  “Suzi loved her. And she barely knew her real grandparents. I’m surprised you’re even making me explain this.”

  On the day of the eleventh chrysanthemum, while Demir was at home grappling with his mother, his fiancée prepared to drop a bombshell on hers. Suzi hadn’t been herself at breakfast that morning. When she was pouring tea, the glass overflowed. She burnt the toast. She mistook the sugar for salt.

  “You’re very absent-minded today, dear,” Gerhard said. “Did you sleep okay?”