by Hodge, Sibel
Deniz positioned me next to Kalem and crushed me in a hug. Then he plonked himself down beside to Yasmin.
‘It gives me great pleasure to be here today to join Kalem and Helen in marriage,’ the registrar began. ‘Love is one of the most important things in life, and we shouldn’t ever forget that.’ He glanced briefly at Charlie, who nodded to him. ‘I’ve been told that Helen and Kalem nearly didn’t make it to this day. They are lucky to be here, and it is thanks to their bravery and determination that they are. I want to wish them a long and happy life together. Now, Kalem, you have some vows to read?’
Kalem nodded and turned to face me. He took my hands in his, the heat from his fingertips permeating my whole being. He gazed deep into my eyes. ‘Helen, you are the only one who makes me whole. Because of you, I laugh, I smile, and I dare to dream again. You are breathtaking like a magical sunset. You are amazing like the night stars. You are spectacular like life itself. I vow to be true and faithful for as long as we both live,’ he paused for a beat. ‘Helen, I choose you. I need you. I love you.’
I gripped his hands tighter to stop my knees buckling at the weight of his words radiating love.
‘Now, Helen, if you will read your vows.’ The registrar turned to me.
Ayshe handed me the vows I’d rewritten late last night after thinking about our whole experience since we’d arrived here.
I took the piece of paper in one hand and held Kalem’s hand with the other, gazing into his eyes. Slowly, I read…
‘Kalem, you are my sunlight, my water, and my air. Wherever you go, I will always be with you. Whatever possessions in the world I have, nothing can compare to your love. You are what makes my life perfect and whole. You are, quite simply, my life. I promise to treasure you, love you, and be faithful to you as long as we both live.’
Kalem squeezed my hand, blinking his damp eyes.
‘And now, Kalem, Helen, it gives me great pleasure to pronounce you man and wife.’ The registrar smiled at us. ‘You may kiss the bride.’
Kalem slid his arms around my waist and pressed his lips to mine.
****
Much later, after the confetti had settled, I stared up at the stars as Kalem twirled me around to the sound of our first dance. The fragrant air mixed with the wine and excitement had made me lightheaded. The music stopped abruptly, but we were so lost in our own world that it took a moment to register.
Kalem stopped twirling me, and I came to a heady standstill.
I looked in the direction that everyone was now staring in.
A posse walked towards us, their expressions unreadable in the dark night. Ali, Ibrahim Kaya, two policemen, the President, and the red-eyed bodyguard walked towards us.
Yasmin’s glass froze mid-air.
Deniz downed his whisky in one glug.
Ayshe and Atila stared at them with worried looks.
Charlie gulped.
What now?
Deniz rose from his chair. ‘Hang on a minute? What’s going on here? This is a wedding celebration.’
They stopped in front of Kalem and me. The red-eyed bodyguard gave us a squinty glare.
The President was first to speak. ‘Firstly, I want to congratulate you on your wedding. I extend you a warm welcome to North Cyprus. I’d like to thank you from the bottom of my heart for all you have done to save my good friend, Ibrahim Kaya. And I also want to applaud your efforts for trying to bring the heinous crime to our attention in the first place.’ He shook our hands.
My mouth hung open in shock.
‘I don’t know how I can ever repay you for saving my life, but I’d like to give you a small appreciation of gratitude.’ A pale Ibrahim Kaya, wearing a shoulder sling, smiled and handed us a hotel room key. ‘This is a key to the penthouse suite of the Plaza. I would like you to be my guest at the hotel for a two-week honeymoon, all-inclusive. And if there is ever anything else that I can do, please don’t hesitate to ask.’ He shook our hands using his good arm.
‘I have some excellent news for you.’ The President looked at Kalem. ‘I’ve had a discussion with the Principal at the Cyprus University of Architecture and Ancient Art, and there seems to have been a misunderstanding concerning the cancellation of your new post there. The Principal will be delighted and honoured to welcome you to their team as previously arranged.’
Kalem’s lips curled into a huge grin. ‘Wow! Thanks very much.’ He shook the President’s hand with enthusiasm, pumping it hard.
I glanced up at Kalem and smiled proudly. His dream job was going to be a reality again. Woo-hoo!
The President whispered something to one of the policemen. He nodded and scurried off.
‘I also have a wedding gift for you,’ the President said, smiling.
The policemen returned, carrying two suitcases. He set them down in front of us.
The President nodded to the cases. ‘Helen, I’m returning your missing suitcases. I hope everything is intact.’
Two suitcases? What was he talking about? I recognized my suitcase, but the other one? I’d never seen it before in my life.
I groaned inside. Not another mix-up. I didn’t want anyone else’s bloody suitcase. In fact, I doubted if I ever wanted to see a suitcase again for the rest of my life. I think I’d developed some sort of suitcase phobia now as well.
‘But I only had one suitcase,’ I said, puzzled.
The President paused for a beat, then he smiled at us. ‘Now you have two. Enjoy your happy life together in North Cyprus.’ He winked at us so quickly I couldn’t be sure if I’d actually imagined it or not, and they all departed, leaving us standing there open-mouthed.
Kalem and I stared at the rogue suitcase, not knowing what to say.
‘Whose case is that?’ Charlie bounded over.
‘Open it,’ Ayshe said.
‘I’m not opening it. Look what happened last time,’ I said.
‘Well, someone’s got to open it,’ Yasmin said.
I sighed. ‘OK, I’ll open it, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.’ I carefully unzipped it and flipped open the lid. ‘Oh. My. God.’ I closed the lid and zipped it up pretty damn quick.
‘Is that what I think it is?’ Ayshe said as everyone stared on in surprise.
I nodded, momentarily lost for words, which didn’t usually happen.
‘It’s full of dollars!’ Kalem stared at the case, mouth gaping, eyes huge. ‘I’m getting a sense of déjà vu here, Helen.’ He couldn’t take his eyes off the case.
I recovered my voice enough to speak. ‘It must be the money that was in Ferret Face’s suitcase when we handed it in to Erol. It looks like exactly the same amount that was in there.’ An excited giggle slipped out.
‘How much whisky could you buy with that?’ Deniz said.
I grabbed Kalem’s hand and gazed up at him with a huge grin locked firmly in place. ‘I think I’m going to enjoy the simple life after all.’
The End
If you enjoyed Fourteen Days Later and My Perfect Wedding, read on for an extract of The Baby Trap. For more details, please visit http://www.sibelhodge.com/
The Baby Trap
Based on her own experiences with infertility and two attempts at IVF, Sibel Hodge’s new novel The Baby Trap will have you laughing and crying at the ups and downs of modern baby-making…
When Gina turns thirty-three her body clock unexpectedly begins clanging in her ear with annoying persistence. The only problem is, having a baby isn’t as easy as she thought. Whether she’s feng shui-ing the house to death with fertility symbols, throwing out her husband’s tight boxers in favour of baggies, swapping wine and chocolate for green tea and yams, popping fertility drugs like M&M’s, or having sex so precision-timed it makes international warfare manoeuvres look unorganized, her life is turned upside down. And when nothing seems to be working, her quest for the B-word turns into an obsession.
Can Gina stay sane, get pregnant, and keep her marriage together? Or will her baby trail become a baby trap?
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br /> Prologue
Why is it that you spend most of your young adult life trying not to get pregnant, and yet when you actually want to get pregnant, you can’t? How annoying is that? Not to mention frustrating, depressing, soul-destroying, and numerous other feelings that I’ve experienced at one time or another in the last two years. I know I’m in danger of losing myself in a never-ending round of fertility treatment, wishing this time it’s going to magically work. No, that’s wrong. I’ve lost myself already. I’ve become a neurotic nutcase who’s bored with life, boring, unsociable, and turning into a frump. What happened to the happy, carefree woman I used to be? The woman who used to enjoy life, have a laugh, appreciate her lot, and drink one too many bottles of wine at the weekends? Obsessed. Yes, that’s what I am, but it’s not my fault. It’s this feeling that I can’t explain. This desperate need inside me to have a baby. This urge that has completely turned my brain to single-train thoughts: Baby, baby, baby.
And as the years have gone on, I’m morphing into the ghost of myself. Someone who can’t enjoy life because I’m too busy worrying and wondering when and if it’s going to happen for me. I don’t even recognize myself most of the time anymore. I’m constantly wishing for the end of my cycle to hurry up and arrive to see if I’ve hit the jackpot this time, and when it doesn’t work, I’m constantly wishing for the middle of my cycle so I can ovulate and try again. I’m unable to feel whole and complete unless I have a son or daughter to hold.
So this year I have to take drastic action before I get sucked into a giant abyss of despair and can never get back. I’m going to give it six more months of trying, and if I still can’t get pregnant…well, that’s it. I’m giving up. This is the last year I’m going through it. I’ve absolutely, definitely, positively made my mind up. I know I said that the last time, and the time before that, oh, and the time before that, but I really mean it this time.
Really.
Maybe really.
Nope. Really and truly, this year is going to be my year to give up trying for a baby.
I’m sick of people looking up my lady garden, prodding me, poking me. Doctors and nurses at the Assisted Conception Unit and friends looking at me with sympathy. I’m also sick of the following:
1) Having no spontaneous sex. It’s not the same when you have to have precision-timed nookie. I’m also having to give precision-timed wanks to Karl in aid of sperm tests.
2) Leaving my legs hanging in the air after sex for ten minutes – although have been known to do it for up to forty as there are varying opinions on the length of time necessary.
3) Being obsessed about babies all the time.
4) Not having time for Karl and me anymore as always obsessing about babies. I’m worried we’re drifting apart.
5) Being hormonal and moody from all the fertility drugs, and sometimes wanting to kill perfectly innocent people for no reason.
6) Bawling my eyes out every time I have my period (and countless other times, too).
7) Eating healthy organic food and giving up alcohol and smoking.
8) Constantly texting tarot card hotlines to find out if and when I will get pregnant (my mobile phone bill is the same as a small country’s debt!).
9) Trying every alternative fertility treatment under the sun.
10) Isn’t that enough reasons?
I always said I’d never write down my infertility journey, but I’ve changed my mind now. Actually, it was Poppy, whom I met online at the Fertility Friends website, who suggested it. We’ve got to know each other pretty well through emails and phone calls in the last two years. How can I describe Poppy? Hmm…if I’d met her in any normal circumstances she wouldn’t have been my type of friend. She’s a floaty, New Age, holistic type, who says she can see auras and talks about cosmic energy, Karma, and projecting positive thoughts to the Universe. Now, normally I’d burst into uncontrollable laughter if someone told me I had to imagine a bright white light of happiness radiating through my body to my ovaries, but I’ve done some pretty bizarre things in my quest to get pregnant, so maybe it’s time I started listening to her and took her advice. What the hell, why not? What have I got to lose? I mean, the drugs and IVF don’t seem to be working, so if I can finally have my little bundle of joy by chanting a few words and hugging a tree, why not give it a go? Although Karl will probably freak and think I’ve lost my mind completely after all the “ridiculous ideas” (as he calls them) I’ve come up with so far. I’ve gone from being someone totally unsuperstitious to someone who looks for signs everywhere. And I mean everywhere. Not to mention the fertility symbols and spells.
Anyway, Poppy told me that writing my story down is the first step to cosmic enlightenment (not entirely sure what that is, but it sounds nice). She explained that if I keep this journal, I’ll be letting the Universe know exactly what I want and she (or he, not entirely what sex the Universe represents, although I think it’s a she and will name her Zelda, which is a Universe-ish kind of name) will help me get rid of any negative energies surrounding me, unblock my chakras (whatever they are), and help me let go of my grief about being unable to get pregnant. OK, in a tiny little way it makes sense, but, of course, I can’t tell that to Karl. He doesn’t understand. And I can’t help thinking that if all this stuff she talks about could really work, then why isn’t she pregnant yet, either?
But I’m game, and this is the last sliver of hope I can cling to. So on the first day of a brand new year, which Poppy said is the perfect time for cosmic alignment, you, my little pink diary with the silver clasp, will be my new friend. And if you can find time to poke the Universe and get her to grant my wish, then I’ll be eternally grateful. Because if I can’t get pregnant this time, I’ll need to do something radical to fill this gaping hole in my life, and I’m scared of what that radical thing might be.
My Body Clock
It all started when I turned thirty-three. I woke up one Sunday morning and I could’ve sworn I heard a clock ticking. I prised open one sleepy eyelid, stuck together with caked mascara that I’d forgotten to take off again after another mad party. Maybe it was my head banging with a humongous hangover that was making the noise. I turned towards my husband Karl, snoring softly beside me with his mouth open, and groaned. Oops, big mistake! My head felt like someone was repeatedly hitting it with a sledgehammer. Probably not a good idea to actually move. Maybe I should just stay in bed all day. Yep, good idea.
Except the bloody ticking wouldn’t shut up.
I knew it couldn’t be the alarm clock on my bedside table because that had run out of batteries months ago. And it couldn’t have been Karl’s because he had a digital clock next to the bed. So what was it?
God, how much had I drunk last night? Was I hallucinating sounds? Whoa, I really needed to slow down on the wine next time.
I rolled out of bed, clutching my head in my hands, and wandered downstairs into the kitchen that overlooked the garden. Pouring a hefty glass of water to combat brain dehydration, I glugged it down in one go as I stared through hangover-induced blurry eyes at an oak tree outside.
What was that out there?
Instantly alert, my monster headache disappeared. I narrowed my eyes at a peculiar site in the garden. It was…what the hell was it? No, it couldn’t be.
I unlocked the back door and tentatively crept towards the vision.
As I got closer, I couldn’t believe my eyes.
It was a baby! Complete with a pink baby grow and a pink dummy, sucking on it with glee as it stared up at me with chubby cheeks and huge blue eyes.
What had I been drinking last night? Has someone spiked my drink at Amelia’s party?
What kind of person could abandon a baby in someone’s garden? This was unbelievable!
‘You poor thing.’ I reached out to pick it up and bring it inside the house and it disappeared.
Pfffft! Just like that. Vanished.
Karl found me two hours later, sitting at the farmhouse kitchen table, still in my fluffy p
ink pyjamas and giant slippers that looked like cows’ faces, staring blankly at the garden.
‘God, what a great night!’ He kissed the top of my head and yawned. ‘Want a coffee? I feel like I’ve swallowed a Brillo Pad.’
‘Huh?’ I said, not really hearing was he was saying.
‘Coffee? Want one?’ He rummaged around in the cupboards, pulling out mugs and a French press.
‘Mmm.’ I nodded absentmindedly.
He flicked the kettle on, lounged on the chair in front of me, and started chuckling. ‘Do you remember dancing on the table last night? That was hilarious! You, Amelia, and Kerry doing a Coyote Ugly impression, flashing your knickers.’
I didn’t answer. I was too busy worrying I had a brain tumour. That’s what happened, wasn’t it? I’d seen a programme about it once. People started hearing things and seeing things. Freaky things. Things that couldn’t possibly be explained. Omigod, that was it. I was going to die! I was still young. I had my whole life ahead of me. Fun, mad shopping sprees, exotic holidays, lots of alcohol-induced partying (I’m not an alcoholic, honestly!). Except…I was getting this weird feeling. Suddenly all that stuff seemed inconsequential – childish, even. I was thirty-three years old, and now I wanted…
‘I want a baby!’ I blurted out, not really knowing where the thought had come from. Maybe we’d been abducted by aliens on the way home last night and one of those sneaky guys had implanted a weird chip in my brain. It could happen. I watched the X Files, you know. Or was reaching thirty-three the new forty? Did you start having a midlife crisis, or, even worse, a nervous breakdown?
Karl’s dark brown eyes sprang open and his jaw dropped. ‘What?’
I adjusted myself in the chair, elbows on the table, leaning forward with an excited feeling simmering away beneath the surface. ‘I want a baby.’ A large grin had suddenly implanted itself on my face.
