Without a Country

by Kulin, Ayse

  A few evenings later, the Schliemanns were gathered around the dinner table at Demir’s house. Everyone was watching Bedia Hanım ceremoniously drizzle melted butter over her famous meat dumplings with garlicky yoghurt sauce when Gerhard abruptly spoke.

  “I’ve got some news for you all.”

  “I’ve got some news, too,” Demir chimed in.

  “What’s with this sudden inundation of news?” Suzi said. “Let my dad go first.”

  “I’ve received an offer from Ankara Numune Training and Research Hospital. After a great deal of thought, I’ve decided it would be a good career move. I will be teaching in Ankara for the next year, starting in January.”

  “Whoa. How does Mom feel about living in Ankara?” Suzi said. She glanced over at Elsa, who was staring at the table.

  “Your mother’s life won’t be disrupted in any way. I’ll take the train to Istanbul every weekend to visit her.”

  When Elsa remained silent, Suzi spoke up again. “All right then. Now let’s hear from Demir.”

  “I’ve decided to give my share of the inheritance to my beloved fiancée, as a wedding gift. I was feeling bad about not having the resources to get Suzi the kind of gift she deserves, and Madame came to the rescue.”

  “Son, you know our family will be slipping gold bracelets onto the bride’s wrists, in keeping with our traditions,” Bedia Hanım said. “How can you say we don’t have a gift?”

  “Mother,” Demir said, “the bracelets will be from you and Dad. This is my gift.”

  “I won’t accept it!” Suzi said. “That apartment belongs to both of us.”

  “I’ve already signed the forms. Once the paperwork is done, it’ll all be yours.”

  “No, I won’t allow it,” Suzi said. She took a deep breath. “But if you wait a little while longer, you can give your half to Sude.”

  “Who on earth is Sude?” Bedia Hanım asked.

  “If we have a daughter, we’re going to name her Sude,” Suzi explained.

  “If I were you, I’d consider boys’ names for your firstborn,” Bedia Hanım said. “You may very well be blessed with a boy.”

  “No,” Suzi said. “Something tells me it’s going to be a girl.”

  “I’ve never heard of such a thing!” Bedia Hanım said. “Naming your child before you’re even married? And without consulting your parents? Well, the child will have a middle name, too, I suppose, and you could always—”

  “Demir, what about letting each of our mothers choose a name, too?” Suzi said.

  “If we do that, they’ll both choose their own mothers’ names. Sude would become—Auntie Frau, what’s your mother’s name?”

  “Gertrude.”

  “Vasfiye Gertrude Sude Atalay. How does that sound?”

  “Vasfiye and Gertrude are fine, but where did this ‘Sude’ business come from?” Bedia Hanım said.

  “We combined the first syllables of our own names. I think it’s perfect,” Demir said.

  “These kids are crazy!” Nazmi Bey said. “First you’ll get married, then you’ll get pregnant, then you’ll have the baby and learn its sex—and only then will you name it. I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.”

  Gerhard put down his spoon and cleared his throat. The Atalays would find out eventually, and they’d probably resent not having been told earlier.

  “Nazmi Bey, it has come to my attention that our children have done things in a different order. For them, pregnancy happens before wedlock. At least it’s not a shotgun wedding. They simply loved each other so much that they couldn’t wait.”

  A pained silence fell over the table. Demir and Suzi flushed and joined Elsa in studying their dinner plates.

  Nazmi Bey broke the silence by looking directly at Demir and asking in a low voice, “Son, when is it due?”

  “In June, Father.”

  “So that explains the new wedding date,” Bedia Hanım said, her voice cracking. “Of course.”

  Praying that his honesty would not once more tear a family apart, Gerhard fumbled for a new subject.

  “Demir, I was wondering if you’d be able to come to the university with me tomorrow. I’d like to find out what your blood type is.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Well, Suzi is AB negative. If you’re positive, there might be a compatibility issue.”

  “Compatibility? I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

  “Medical research has increased our understanding of so much, Bedia Hanım. Have you ever wondered why so many infants are born with jaundice? Today, it’s possible to assess risks and to take precautions.”

  “What kind of precautions?” Elsa asked, speaking for the first time that evening.

  “Well, for example,” Gerhard patiently continued, “we can have compatible donor blood on hand in case a transfusion is necessary.”

  “God forbid! Blood from a perfect stranger!” Bedia Hanım said.

  “Bedia, please let Gerhard finish,” Nazmi Bey said, holding a finger to his lips. “You know he is a doctor.” He turned to Gerhard. “We already know Demir’s blood type. He was tested for his military service. Son, run to your room and get the forms from your physical.”

  Demir didn’t move a muscle. He looked frightened.

  “Demir,” Gerhard said, “take a look at those forms, like your father said, and you won’t have to come with me tomorrow. Go on, child.”

  Demir slowly rose from the table and went off to his bedroom, head down.

  “Dad,” Suzi said. “Could you explain, please? Are you saying my blood might be incompatible with my own baby’s? How is that even possible?”

  “Yes, if a mother’s blood is Rh-negative and the baby’s is Rh-positive, the mother’s blood cells can develop antibodies that attack the newborn’s. The risk is highest near or during delivery.”

  “Why have I never heard of this before?”

  “Because we didn’t know about it. Research on hemolytic disease in newborns has made great strides since you and Peter were born. I like to think my own work has played some small role in that. Now, don’t misunderstand. The risk is tiny, especially for a first-time mother. All I’m saying is that it won’t hurt to take precautions. Why not have a blood donor present at the delivery? If Demir is Rh-negative like you are, the baby will be too, so there’s no chance of incompatibility.”

  Demir came into the dining room, form in hand.

  “I’m blood type A, Rh-positive. Does that mean everything’s okay?”

  “Well, that means the baby could go either way. But there’s no need for worry,” Gerhard said. “It’ll be easy enough to find a compatible donor.”

  “Should all of us donate blood, then?” Bedia Hanım asked. “For the”—here she swallowed hard and stared fearfully at Suzi’s belly—“baby?”

  “No, no! If you know your blood type, you can just tell me. Otherwise, one drop is enough to find out.”

  The mood at the table had been ruined, and Gerhard’s further attempts to explain hemolytic disease only made matters worse. Coffee in the sitting room was strained, with Demir stealing worried glances at his parents and Suzi keeping her eyes firmly on the ground.

  When the Schliemanns got home, Suzi ran straight to her room, and Elsa confronted Gerhard.

  “What possessed you to humiliate Suzi like that at the dinner table? I wish you were as frank with your own indiscretions as you are with our daughter’s. That was not your truth to tell.”

  “I didn’t mean to—I thought—”

  “Shush! And when did you turn into such a pedant? A mother’s blood poisoning her baby? If the risk is as minimal as you say, why bring it up? You’ve caused unnecessary anxiety for an expectant mother—your own daughter, no less.”

  Elsa sailed into the kitchen with Gerhard trailing in her wake.

  “It is my responsibility as a scientist—”

  “What about your responsibilities as a father and as a husband? Was it right to inform me at the Atalays’ dinne
r table, in front of everyone, that you’d accepted a position in Ankara? Until we’re officially divorced, the decisions that affect us both should be made together, but you’re obviously so eager to be free of me you couldn’t wait another minute.”

  “Elsa, the offer was finalized only today. And what’s more, I accepted it for your sake. My very presence has become intolerable to you. You don’t want me at home, so I thought you’d be pleased if I left.”

  “You chose the wrong place and the wrong time to tell me.”

  “Well, if it makes you feel better, I’ll be spending the winter in Ankara as punishment.”

  “That’s a punishment of your own choosing. It didn’t come from me. It must have come from your conscience.”

  Gerhard retreated to Peter’s bedroom and put on his pajamas. He’d just collapsed on the bed when Suzi burst in.

  “Dad! What are you doing in here?”

  “Sleeping. What are you doing?”

  “I was looking for a book. Why are you sleeping in here?”

  “I don’t want to disturb your mother with my snoring.”

  “That’s ridiculous! After all these years? Why’s she making a fuss about it now?”

  “It’s not her fault. I might want to wake up in the middle of the night and read a book.”

  “Dad, tell me the truth. What are the chances my baby might die because of my blood?”

  Gerhard took Suzi’s hand. “Zero,” he said.

  “Well, then, what were you talking about at dinner?”

  “Suzi, I regret having brought it up. I’m just being overly cautious. I didn’t mean to alarm you. Please don’t worry.”

  “Okay, Dad.”

  Suzi took a book off the shelf and gave Gerhard a kiss before returning to her room. She hadn’t realized her parents were sleeping separately, and it worried her. She swore to herself that she’d never sleep apart from Demir, even if he snored like an orangutan.

  Flesh and Blood

  On a winter afternoon in 1955, under the watchful eye of a registrar general in red robes, Demir and Suzi affixed their signatures to a marriage license. In the eyes of the Turkish state, they were now man and wife. That evening, the Atalays held a small reception at the Pera Palace Hotel for a few select guests who included the Ellimans; Hirsch, who had traveled from Ankara for the occasion; his wife, Holde; their son, Enver Tandoğan, now ten; a few of the Atalays’ relatives; and close school friends of the bride and groom. Suzi, who was not yet showing, wore a white gown with a flounced skirt and her mother’s ruby brooch.

  In keeping with German tradition, Gerhard delivered a speech. He was followed by Hirsch, who concluded by addressing Suzi as Mrs. Atalay and inviting those assembled to raise their glasses to the newly married couple. Suzi then stood up and gave a brief but emotional toast of her own.

  “I would like to thank all of you for coming today to share our happiness. I so wish that Madame could have been here as well,” she said, brushing away a tear. “My dear brother, Peter, has also been unable to attend. I am confident that they are both here in spirit.”

  All eyes turned to Elsa, who had gotten to her feet and lifted her glass. “And I wish my father and mother could be here. My father has passed, and my mother was not strong enough to make the long journey to Istanbul.”

  “Demir and I will visit Grandmother at the first opportunity,” Suzi said. “I’m so happy she was able to visit us in Turkey and meet Demir, even if he was still a child. And when she does see him again, I’m certain she’ll agree that he has grown into the handsomest groom ever.”

  When the dinner was over and the last of the guests had been seen off, the bride and groom took the elevator to their hotel room. The couple’s parents left the hotel and walked to the corner together. It was drizzling.

  “Rain brings fruitfulness,” Bedia Hanım said. “It’s an auspicious sign.”

  Gerhard and Elsa said their good-byes to the Atalays and were walking toward Taksim when Elsa seemed to read Gerhard’s thoughts.

  “Pleased that Hanna didn’t swoop down on the reception?”

  Gerhard closed his eyes. “Has she been bothering you again?”

  “Threatening me is more like it. She dropped in unannounced last week and demanded again that she and Rozi be invited. I told her that our list of guests was limited, and we had been unable to include her.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I’m not finished, Gerhard! Do you know what she said? She asked me to give you a message. I asked her what it was. ‘Just tell him I have a message,’ she said. ‘He’ll know what I mean.’ And that’s when I told her that I knew all there was to know and that if any messages were going to be delivered, it would be one from me to her husband.”

  Gerhard flushed red.

  “What I mean to say, Gerhard Bey, is if that woman didn’t suddenly show up today, you have me to thank for it.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me sooner, Elsa?”

  “Look who’s talking.”

  Over the following weeks, the newlyweds diplomatically shuttled between their in-laws’ two houses in a bid to please everyone. The paperwork for Madame’s apartment was going nowhere. Like characters in a nineteenth-century Russian novel, they faced bureaucratic hurdle after hurdle: a new tax, another fee, additional paperwork, an incomplete form, an absent manager, a sour-faced clerk, a barked instruction to “go away and come back tomorrow!” The plan had been to rent out the apartment until Demir completed his military service, which would give them a little nest egg for baby expenses. Other than Madame’s portrait in oil, which they kept for themselves, they had auctioned off all of their benefactress’ furniture, using the proceeds for fresh paint and repairs. However, without an official deed, they couldn’t draw up a rental contract.

  In the meantime, Elsa and Bedia Hanım were collecting things for the baby: a cradle, sleepers, booties, cloth diapers, blankets . . . As much as they enjoyed the process, neither woman had forgotten that bewildering warning about blood incompatibility. It was a nagging worry they pushed to the backs of their minds and never mentioned to each other.

  Gerhard determined the blood types of all the close relatives and tried to identify possible donors. The baby’s blood type would be A, B, or AB, but what if the baby was AB positive? It was unlikely, but it would be nice if an AB positive donor were available in case of emergency.

  Elsa seldom spoke to her husband those days, but she frequently asked, “Have you found the blood you’re looking for?”

  He always replied, “I’ve found donors for all types but AB positive. Don’t worry, Elsa. It’ll be okay.”

  After too many days of this response, Elsa put on a new dress, applied lipstick and blush, and set out for Taksim with her handbag on her arm. She strode down the main shopping avenue without so much as a glance at the window displays and turned into a certain shopping arcade.

  Was she making a mistake? What if Gerhard found out? Damn Gerhard! In she went. There was no sign of Hanna. A young lady with brassy blond hair sat behind the counter.

  “I was looking for Madame Benhayim . . .”

  “The grande dame or the daughter-in-law?”

  “Hanna.”

  “She comes in around noon.”

  Elsa scurried out of the arcade and to the post office on the main avenue, where she bought a phone token and dialed Hanna’s number.

  Hanna gave a little gasp of surprise when she heard Elsa’s voice.

  “Hanna, I was in the area and wondered if you cared to meet at Markiz? We could have some nice pastries and a chat. I’ve been thinking about what you said about Rozi. Perhaps you’re right. Our children have never had the opportunity to get to know one another.”

  Hanna seized the moment. “I’ll be there in half an hour.”

  Less than ten minutes later, Elsa was sitting at a table in the back of the café. She ordered a tea and waited. When Hanna arrived in her best outfit and didn’t see Elsa at any of the tables in front, her face fell. Elsa had
to vigorously wave from the back.

  “Why are you hiding way back there?”

  “I didn’t want anyone to overhear us.”

  “But we’re speaking German,” Hanna said.

  “In this city, everyone knows a word or two of every language. What would you like to drink?”

  “Hot chocolat, please. And a mille-feuille.”

  Glutton, Elsa thought, then shook the ungenerous thought from her head. Once the waiter was out of earshot, she got straight to the point.

  “Hanna, life is full of twists and turns. If what you say is true—that is, if Gerhard really is Rozi’s father—we’ll protect your honor by keeping it a secret to our dying day. But in return, we might need your help.” Elsa proceeded to explain that a blood transfusion might be needed for Suzi’s baby and that Rozi could be a suitable donor if Hanna would agree.

  “Yes, Frau Schliemann, absolutely. Even if they don’t know they’re related, our children should be encouraged to become friends, at least. They could be so much help to each other.”

  “Hanna, call me Elsa. If our children are in fact siblings, well, I agree.”

  “They are! How can I prove it to you?”

  “With a blood test. If I knew Rozi’s blood type, I might be able to do something. We’ll have to get her tested.”

  “I already know her blood type. They told me at the hospital when she was born.”

  “What is it?” Elsa asked, holding her breath and clasping her hand to her bosom. “Is it AB positive?”

  “That’s it! How did you know?”

  “Oh, Hanna, if there’s a problem and Rozi needs to give blood, I promise to do everything I can to make Rozi feel more welcome in our family. The children can help each other throughout life even if they never know the truth.”

  “That’s exactly what I’ve been trying to tell you.”

  “Would you like another hot chocolate?” Elsa asked with a smile.

  “Sure!”

  Elsa patiently waited until the second cup of hot chocolate was finally gone, nodding vacantly as Hanna chattered away about that year’s fashions and the shapeless shift known as the “sack dress.” Then she asked for the check.