by Ahmet Altan
She wrote a brief letter to Hikmet Bey, she could barely see what she was writing in the shade of the vines.
“Hikmet,
I must speak with you as soon as possible. The matter I wish to discuss is the future of our children. I will expect you tomorrow afternoon.
Mehpare.”
She was unbelievably impatient, she couldn’t wait until morning, she gave the letter to the carriage driver, if it had been possible she would have asked him to come at once, but she was able to realize how strange this would be.
The next morning she woke early in a dither, she inspected the entire house, gave the necessary instructions to the servants and the footmen, toward noon she had the fire for the bath lit and took a long bath, then she opened her closet and started trying on all of her dresses one by one; she called for Sula and asked her opinion about every dress she put on. Each time Sula said, “Very nice,” she glanced at herself in the mirror, turned around, and looked back to see how it was from behind, took a few steps, then said, “This doesn’t work,” took it off, and threw it on the bed, the bed was covered with dresses.
Sula grew irritated.
“Girl, you’re very beautiful, whatever you wear looks good on you. Anyway, he’s not going to be looking at your dress, he’s going to be looking at you, if someone asks him later he won’t be able to say what you were wearing, he’s a man!”
Mehpare Hanım shook her head.
“Hikmet will see, he has an eye for these things, you don’t know him.”
“I may not know Hikmet, but I know men. He won’t see, when he meets you after such a long time he won’t look at your dress, he wouldn’t notice if you wore rags.”
She finally decided on a yellow linen dress that no one would guess she’d gone to such pains to choose, she combed her hair, put on fragrance, looked at herself in the mirror once more, she considered putting a flower in her hair but then decided it would be too much.
She couldn’t eat much at lunch despite Sula’s insistence, she only took the heel of a loaf of bread, she was much more excited than she’d imagined she would be, she was very tense; she paced around the house and the garden and waited for time to pass.
As the time of Hikmet Bey’s arrival approached, she started watching from the living room window. When the carriage she was expecting came in through the garden gate, she was able to control her excitement; Hikmet Bey would never know about the preparations for his visit, he would never know about any of it, he would never realize how she’d waited for him with her heart racing, Mehpare Hanım had erased all traces of this with a mastery only women could achieve.
When they met each other in the living room after such a long time, there was a silence. Hikmet Bey looked at his former wife’s face, as usual he was surprised by the beauty he saw; just like all men who once again meet a beautiful woman who left them, he felt the pain of once again seeing how impressive the beauty he lost was and trembled inwardly in the hope of capturing her again, his palms were sweating, he blushed slightly.
“Please, have a seat,” said Mehpare Hanım.
Hikmet Bey looked around the room, then sat in an armchair right next to him.
“You should sit by the window, you get a much better view of the garden.”
Without saying anything, Hikmet Bey stood and went to sit in the armchair Mehpare Hanım had pointed to. He was terrified of the beauty he saw, how much he’d struggled to forget that face, how many days he had spent in pain trying to erase the images and recollections from his memory, how often he’d begged silently for all of the women toward whom he’d felt even a little closeness to help him forget that face; now that beautiful face, with all of its charm, was right in front of him, and Hikmet Bey realized he was prepared to sacrifice anything in order to be able to see this face every morning, to feel he was once again loved by her. At that moment there was nothing more precious, more important, than being loved by Mehpare Hanım; he could give up his dignity, his honor, his pride, his name, his past, even his future without even the slightest regret. If he’d believed it would work, he would have been prepared to drag her roughly by the arm, to lower himself by deceiving her with false promises, but he wasn’t sure if these things would help.
He hadn’t slept since he received her letter, he’d reckoned with his past, become excited, weighed his feelings, and had finally left the house deciding that he’d forgotten Mehpare Hanım, but now he could see clearly that he’d been mistaken.
“You seem a bit pale,” said Mehpare Hanım.
“It must be because of the heat . . . ”
“Yes, it’s really very hot. Would you like something to drink? Sula has prepared a very nice sour cherry sherbet, I know you like it, would you like some?”
He gladly accepted the offer of something to wet his dry lips.
“I would like some, if it’s not too much trouble.”
In silence, they drank the sour cherry sherbet, which had been brought in crystal glasses in ornate silver holders with thin handles. He was both happy and embarrassed that Mehpare Hanım had remembered he liked sour cherry sherbet. Later, he said to Osman, “You can’t believe how desperate a person can be.” Suddenly Mehpare Hanım said, “If you’ll allow it, I would like the children to live with me.”
Hikmet Bey was truly surprised, as if Mehpare Hanım hadn’t said in her letter that she wanted to talk about the children. “Is that so?”
“Yes, Nizam is all alone in Paris, and to tell the truth, even though he’s happy to be there alone I’m a bit worried. As for Rukiye, she’s been a burden for Mihrişah Sultan for such a long time, it seems a bit unsuitable for her to live with her ladyship when her mother is here.”
“Have you spoken with Rukiye at all?”
“No, I’m afraid she’s a bit resentful toward me. But that will pass . . . To tell the truth, I’m worried that she’ll grow even more bitter the longer we’re apart.”
When he heard Nizam’s name, Hikmet Bey blushed again. He missed his son, his happy-go-lucky manner, his respectful teasing, the amiability that made everyone love him, he’d given a lot of thought to inviting him to Istanbul, but he was ashamed to meet his son as a pathetic man who’d been betrayed and who hadn’t managed to kill himself, felt he wouldn’t be able to bear the look of reproof in his son’s eyes, even if it was just a little; like every father, he was frightened by the thought that he could lose his son’s respect.
He said, “As you wish. I too think that Nizam should come here from Paris, I’ve missed him a great deal. You talk to Rukiye, I can’t make a decision about that, I think the two of you need to sort this out as mother and daughter.”
“You know that Rukiye sees you as a father and loves you as such.”
Hikmet Bey smiled.
“Yes, I know. I’ve always seen her as my daughter as well. She’s become a very intelligent young girl. I would like her even if I had no connection to her, but in the end I’m not her father, I have no rights in this matter.”
“Then you don’t have any objections to the children living with me?”
“How could I, you’re their mother . . . ”
Even though it occurred to him to say, “Even though you abandoned them . . . ” he didn’t, but they both stared straight ahead as if these words had been uttered. Both of them were ashamed when they considered what this situation meant for the children.
The silence didn’t last long, in a slightly bashful and flirtatious tone that suited her so well, Mehpare Hanım said, “Look, what I was going to say was . . .
“Let me show you around the mansion, let’s see if you approve of my taste.”
When Hikmet Bey raised his head and looked at his former wife’s face, as soon as he saw that bashful look of her beautiful face he realized what she meant, he pressed his hands to his legs to keep them from shaking, he licked his dry lips and could only manage to say,
“As you wish.”
As they made their way to the living room door, Hikmet Bey noticed the piano, he hadn’t noticed it when he came in.
“Do you still play?”
“Occasionally, when something’s bothering me . . . But I don’t enjoy it as much as I used to.”
“What a shame . . . You used to play so well.”
They toured the rooms of the lower floor quickly, Hikmet Bey murmured a few words of praise, then they walked to the stairs and climbed without speaking, tensed with excitement, maintaining a little distance between each other.
They entered the bedroom, the curtains were closed.
Mehpare Hanım said, “This is my room.”
As Hikmet Bey was about to answer, he heard a sound. Mehpare Hanım had closed the door and leaned against it. In a scratchy voice she asked, “Have you missed me, Hikmet?” After that it was complete madness.
Even though people who have been in a long and fiery relationship forget what they experienced, or think they forget and suppress these memories, longing and desire hide in their skins, waiting for the day when they’ll come back to life; from the first touch, their bodies remembered each other and they embraced each other with a longing that surprised even them, the desire hiding in their legs, between their legs, in their fingertips, and in their lips intensified at an unexpected pace, they began to make love as if they’d never separated.
They experienced perhaps the most magnificent, most unforgettable lovemaking of their entire relationship, as if they were betraying everyone in their lives, even each other, as if they were taking revenge on everyone, but without actually being aware of betraying or taking revenge, playing all the games they always used to play and from which they always used to derive pleasure, perhaps deriving more pleasure than in the past, they felt love and desire at every touch and at every moment, feeling as if they were washing away all of the pain, sorrow, and anger of the past, they made love until their souls and their bodies were too fragile and weary to contain anything.
In the evening when darkness fell and Hikmet Bey left the mansion, Mehpare Hanım, too impatient to get dressed, threw on a nightgown and ran to the kitchen, to Sula, and as she drank the sour cherry sherbet she served her, gave her the news that she herself was so pleased to hear.
“He’s still in love with me . . . He’s in love with me.”
As for Hikmet Bey, he got into the carriage feeling tired and self-confident, he leaned back, he had the same feeling, he thought he was still in love with her.
Then something strange happened.
Hikmet Bey used to hear an echo within himself every time he said Mehpare Hanım’s name or her name came to mind, some unknown thing was responding to that name, every time her name was mentioned a sound emerged from the depths. Hikmet Bey knew this very well, because he’d lived with this for years. That evening in the carriage, as he thought about Mehpare Hanım, he didn’t hear that echo, that strange response; he was so surprised that he repeated her name out loud. There was no sign of the strange echo he’d become accustomed to, that sound, whatever it was, was missing.
Making love had satisfied all of the longing in his body, but it hadn’t been able to reach the depths, it hadn’t been able to reach his soul; just as this lovemaking had washed and cleaned their past, it had removed Mehpare Hanım from within Hikmet Bey and from his past; perhaps in order for him to realize that his love for his former wife was over, he’d needed to make love to her one last time, he’d needed to feel once more that he possessed her, no one could know why, but that magnificent, loving lovemaking had showed Hikmet Bey that this love was over.
Even though it had left a scar on his soul that would never disappear, the wound had closed; he realized this with a sense of relief, but also with a strange sorrow. This love that he’d thought would never end, for which he’d been willing to live as a sad and melancholy man, for which he’d even been willing to die, that he’d felt within him through so many lonely days and nights, had left him, taking with it all the pain, suffering, and melancholy. He didn’t understand why he wasn’t happy about this, but he didn’t feel even the slightest joy. All he felt was weariness throughout his body and a pain in part of his soul that was difficult to describe.
He was afraid to return to the mansion and meet Dilevser in this condition; even though he realized that his love was over, he also felt something else, a feeling that was difficult to explain, it was as if, at this time, if he thought the wrong thought or was captivated by the wrong feeling, he would fall in love with Mehpare Hanım again, this time never to escape; to see Dilevser’s ashen young face and innocent conversation after having beheld Mehpare Hanım’s extraordinary beauty would serve no purpose other than to remind him of Mehpare Hanım’s beauty. He knew he shouldn’t see Dilevser now.
In order to erase the latest effects of Mehpare Hanım, he needed a woman as beautiful, intelligent, and scornful as his former wife, as usual he would take shelter from Mehpare Hanım in his mother.
He told the carriage driver to go down to the shore.
21
The doors and windows leading to the veranda that extended as far as the sea had been opened fully, and the iodine-smelling coolness of the Bosphorus, which flowed past constantly like a gigantic, burnished black leather strap with a swishing sound that the household had become accustomed to offered some relief from the summer heat that during the day had penetrated the wooden walls of the large living room. Mihrişah Sultan, Rukiye, and two ladies in waiting who had preferred to stay in Istanbul rather than accompany the others back to Paris after the mutiny were sitting listening to Tevfik Bey talk about daily political developments and rumors, about which her ladyship occasionally made sharp, witty comments that made everyone laugh.
Although she’d long since lost all interest in politics, Mihrişah Sultan pretended she hadn’t for Rukiye’s sake, and Tevfik Bey came every evening to give his daily report. This was like the worship of monks who’d long since lost their faith, but they continued without giving up and without taking it seriously, it became an amusement everyone had become accustomed to. Rukiye listened to Tevfik Bey’s voice without talking and without caring about what he said; she’d grown accustomed to that voice, she became restless when she didn’t hear it.
When Hikmet Bey entered the living room, they all turned and looked at him. With her usual pampered levity, Mihrişah Sultan asked, “What’s the matter with you, Hikmet?
“Your face is like wax, you’re so pale.”
“It’s just that I didn’t get any sleep.”
“Have you eaten?”
It was only then that Hikmet Bey realized he hadn’t eaten anything since morning, but he didn’t feel up to eating so he lied.
“Merci, mother, I’ve eaten.”
“Good, then come, have a seat,” said Mihrişah Sultan, losing interest in her son’s health at once too and returning to what they’d just been talking about.
“We were talking about how stupid your Committee is, this is the second time they’ve made a military move but they still haven’t been able to get into the government. They want to govern the nation but they’re afraid to take responsibility. They’re brave when it’s time to kill, but they’re cowards when it’s time to take some responsibility. To tell the truth, sometimes I wonder whether or not the old geezer had more courage than these people.”
Hikmet Bey answered as if he was grumbling.
“It’s not my Committee, mother, I cut my ties with them a long time ago.”
“It’s not quite clear whether you cut your ties with them or they cut their ties with you . . . ”
“Why are you being so offensive?”
When Mihrişah Sultan looked more closely at her son, she felt there was something strange about him.
“What’s going on?”
It was impossible for Hikmet Bey to tell his mother what he
’d thought and felt on his way there; the surprise he’d felt when he realized he was no longer in love with Mehpare Hanım showed him that he’d still secretly believed he was still in love with Mehpare Hanım during the time he thought he loved Dilevser, otherwise he wouldn’t have been so surprised to realize he no longer loved his former wife. Throughout his trip there he’d kept asking himself the same question. “How could I secretly believe I loved Mehpare when I thought I loved Dilevser?” Moreover, he’d never noticed it . . . It frightened him to think that he didn’t know his own feelings.
As he experienced the bewilderment of realizing he no longer loved Mehpare Hanım, he was unable to answer whether or not he loved Dilevser. He just knew he didn’t want to see the young girl then. The innocence that had always impressed him would now feel like a heavy burden.
Because he knew he couldn’t tell his mother any of this, he said there was nothing going on.
Thinking that there might be a private reason for Hikmet Bey to come at that hour, Tevfik Bey said:
“If you’ll excuse me, I have to get going.”
Rukiye stood up at once.
“Let me see you out.”
As Tevfik Bey and Rukiye left the living room together, Hikmet Bey looked at his mother as if to ask, “What’s going on here?” When Mihrişah Sultan turned and gave him a slight smile, Hikmet Bey realized that new feelings had emerged in his stepdaughter’s life.
Every evening Rukiye saw Tevfik Bey as far as the garden gate as if this was very natural. During that time they exchanged a few words about what they would do the next day, and with the help of the signals contained in these exchanges they could occasionally “run into each other,” they walked in the woods behind the mansion in the late afternoon and occasionally took a carriage ride to Kanlıca.
