The sight of Cemal wearing shorts reminded Meryem of a chicken with feathered legs and made her want to laugh. The sudden appearance of his hairy legs, which had never seen the sun and were somewhat bandy as well, made his self-image of the strong man a little ludicrous.
Thanks to the rapidly changing circumstances, the clothing revolution went smoothly. In the village, Meryem would never have been allowed to wear such an outfit, but, on the sailboat and in coastal towns full of tourists, her other clothes would have made her stand out and attract attention.
Once again, İrfan admired the human ability to adapt to new conditions and accept a new order of things so quickly. He regarded the experiences of the past weeks as a sociological experiment. It seemed he had been right when, in an article written years before, he had compared people to passengers on a transatlantic liner. When things went well, the passengers had a good time in the formal ballroom; people stood aside for each other, men rose to their feet when ladies entered, and they toasted each other in champagne, clinking their fine crystal flutes, while listening to lively tunes played on the piano. When the ship began to sink, these same people, struggling in the sea to catch hold of a piece of driftwood that would enable them to survive, would mercilessly push others away from it.
Human beings were chameleons, with the ability to survive by adapting to their surroundings. Yet some were incompetent, like himself. İrfan was a chameleon who was ready to try everything to adapt to his environment but who struggled in vain to change color—an incompetent chameleon.
That would be a good name for a book, but it was already too late for İrfan to dream about the future. Sooner or later, the boat would hit a rock and sink. The incompetent chameleon would be buried at the bottom of the sea, and his lifetime of incompetence would disappear forever.
From where he lay, İrfan could see the blazing red sky. A little later, darkness would descend like irresistible, absolute death. The boat had to be in a strait somewhere, because the wind was rocking the boat. İrfan was determined not to get up and look. Whatever would be, would be.
In two weeks, Meryem had learned to read fluently, then he began teaching her how to use the charts. He would lay a yellow chart on the table, and, as they bent over it to study the headlands and bays, he could inhale the girl’s fresh scent. Sometimes, he would ask her which headland they would encounter next. Even when she answered incorrectly, he would applaud and say, “Brava!” He knew it was impossible for her to learn to read a map in just a few weeks, and the headland she had pointed out bore no resemblance to the one he had asked for, but he felt he was helping her develop her self-esteem.
Besides his usual attitude of bad-tempered silence, Cemal had begun to cast angry glances at them both. There were two conflicting poles on the boat: İrfan and Meryem at one pole, and Cemal at the other. The closeness between the professor and the girl and the way he praised her infuriated Cemal.
The fact that she was obviously streets ahead of him in intelligence and understanding was something he could not accept. How could this snot-nosed girl, this feeble creature whose life he had spared, have changed so much? In the village, it would have been her duty to serve him, and there she would not even have been allowed to eat or talk in the presence of men. On this boat on the Aegean shore, it seemed as if she were the superior being. That professor was spoiling her completely. Could it be that he was making advances to her? If Cemal discovered such a thing, he was ready to defend the family honor by immediately throwing him off the boat. With every passing day, his grudge against them grew, and he began to spend more time alone. Sometimes when they were at anchor he jumped into the water and swam long distances. At least he could swim better than Meryem.
İrfan insisted that Meryem should learn to swim. He said that if they ever had an accident or she fell into the water, she might drown if she could not swim. But Meryem was not brave enough. To learn to swim, she would have to wear a bathing suit, and she was not ready to expose her body.
Actually, she longed to wear her pretty new bathing suit. In fact, every day when she woke up, she put it on and wore her pants and T-shirt over it.
At first, she had felt naked in these clothes, but gradually she got used to them. But going around in a bathing suit in front of two men was out of the question.
İrfan continued his efforts to encourage her. “You’ll get used to it,” he said. “Human beings quickly get used to good things. And you’ve really scared me with the speed at which you adapt to new things!”
One evening, after they had cast anchor, İrfan had the opportunity he had been waiting for. “There’s an incredible little bay nearby,” he told Meryem and Cemal. “Let’s get in the dinghy and go see it.”
Cemal shook his head as usual. He did not want to join in anything they did. So Meryem and İrfan left together.
There were many interconnecting bays in this area of the coast. Idling along the virgin, green, pine-scented coast, they sailed over the blue water, so transparently crystalline that one could see clear through to its aquariumlike depths.
Meryem trailed her hand in the cool water and watched small silver fish swimming below the surface. İrfan was telling her about their destination, a narrow piece of land between two bays. In the age of Cleopatra, the local inhabitants had unsuccessfully tried to dig a channel across the narrow peninsula to connect the two. Since then, everyone who had tried to do the same thing had died in mysterious circumstances. In just a little while, he would point out to her the ancient ruins.
The sun was setting when they entered the bay, but Meryem was still able to see the ruins. On one side, they faced the setting sun, and on the other, the rising full moon. As darkness deepened, the moon shone brighter.
After a while, they took the rubber dinghy and made for the shore that was beginning to gleam silver in the light of the moon. They sat down on the pebbles. İrfan opened the two cans of beer he had brought along and handed one to Meryem.
Meryem was lost in a dream. The beauty around her, the silvery moonlight shimmering over the bay, the intoxicating scents, the gentleness and care of the man sitting next to her made her head swim. She felt as if she were being drawn along by a stream that was carrying her where it wished.
She accepted the beer without showing too much reluctance. Her lips touched the cold can first, and then she felt a momentary tickle of foam before a somewhat bitter taste. She was content and stretched out her feet toward the waves rippling along the shore. Cemal’s absence—the lack of a controlling presence—was enjoyable. Maybe for once she could spend a few hours without being told what to do.
The respectful attention of this wealthy, learned man with his sensitive ways made her tremble inside and opened the door to a mixture of feelings. For the first time in her life, she felt valued, intelligent, and beautiful. Lost in these thoughts, she did not realize how quickly she had drunk the whole can of beer.
İrfan felt intense compassion for the girl sitting beside him. He wanted to grasp her thin shoulders and hug her. This was not from sexual desire, but rather from a feeling of sympathy. All he wanted was to clasp the girl to his breast and hold her like that for a while. He could not hug her. The girl would misunderstand.
The moon was rising fast. İrfan asked Meryem if she could see a shape in it that resembled a woman’s profile. She could not. One night long ago in Izmir, when the air was heavy with the scent of rose geraniums, İrfan’s father had taught him to look carefully at the moon until he could distinguish that figure. The full moon was like a medallion on the face of which was the profile of a beautiful woman, her face turned slightly upward. İrfan described the face of Meryem in great detail, but the girl could not discern it. What she could see was something completely different.
He decided to teach Meryem how to swim. He made the proposal with such eager enthusiasm that Meryem, already tipsy from the beer and the magic of that strange night, was not able to resist. After İrfan got into the water, she took off her clothes, hoping t
hat the darkness would conceal her body. With only her bathing suit on, she stepped into the sea. Her bare feet, unprotected from the sharpness of the stones, made it difficult for her to walk. The sea, however, felt warm and protective. She was afraid that the professor would see her half-naked body in the light of the moon, but she did not resist when İrfan took her hand and pulled her into the sea. Soon, the water rose to the height of her chest. Terrified, she clutched İrfan’s hand.
When he laid her abruptly on top of the water, she screamed. “Don’t be afraid,” he said. “I won’t let you go. Just keep your back straight. The water will hold you. Lie on the water as if you are lying in bed.” At first in her panic, Meryem could not relax and lie flat. Afraid of drowning, she allowed her waist to drop and began to sink, but İrfan’s protective hands were ready to catch her. He would not allow her to go under. Soon, she learned to trust him and began to float on the water unafraid.
Meryem shone in his hands like a white fish in the waters of that moonlit bay. He was holding a miracle. With light touches, he corrected the girl when she started to sink as she tried to float by herself. Each time, he admired her slender body more. The two resembled animals playing in a splendid bay by moonlight. The bays, which Cleopatra had tried to unite, were filled with laughter and little screams of pretended fear.
Gently, İrfan turned the girl over and began to help her to swim, holding her by the waist and the shoulders. A pearly radiance gleamed from the white fish sliding through his hands.
He had not felt this happy since he had begun his voyage. This was perhaps one of the most joyful moments of his life, and, strangely enough, sexual desire was not a part of it. Carnal desire would spoil their childish, innocent fun.
He remembered that night as two children at play. He had become a young child like her. She, in truth, was a beautiful, innocent girl—a pure, intelligent, excitable, rosy-cheeked child, a child who had not forgotten how to blush—a baby dolphin, a silvery fish jumping up and down in the water.
The cynical, sharp-tongued professor, who had spent his adulthood lost in nihilism, realized that he had changed after meeting this girl. Meryem had softened his heart and taken him back to his childhood and youth. He was doing what he had formerly criticized and sneered at.
İrfan realized the girl was getting cold. She had stayed in the water too long for one not accustomed to it. He started with her toward the beach, carrying her over the sharp pebbles. Then she stood up, water dripping from her as she walked ashore; reaching the beach, she threw herself down on the pebbles.
The wind had got up. The professor could sense that Meryem was shivering with cold in her swimsuit and her teeth were chattering. She was not only unaccustomed to being in the water, but the beer and the excitement had also affected her. In spite of the cold, she had fallen asleep on the stones. Like a cat protecting its young, İrfan wanted to put his arms around her and keep her warm. He tried to quell this feeling, but could not. He bent over her and took her in his arms. For the rest of his life, he would recall this moment as one of the biggest mistakes he had ever made.
As soon as the girl had sensed the man bending over her, she leapt up and kicked him away with all her might, screaming at the top of her lungs, “No! Don’t! No, Uncle! Don’t do it!” Her bloodcurdling cries in the dark of the night were so unnerving that İrfan froze. He did not know what to do. He realized he had to calm her down and stop her cries, but he did not have the courage to approach her.
Covering her face with her hands, the girl ran back and forth over the pebbles, screaming like a madwoman. Then she fell to her knees and began to speak deliriously. İrfan got even more frightened. He could not understand what she was saying. A couple of times, he heard the words “uncle” and “hate you.” Then she would scream and pound the stones with clenched fists.
İrfan had never witnessed such a scene before. Afraid to breathe, he waited, not knowing what to say or do. If he slapped the girl, would it bring her back to her senses? What if it made things worse? He had already behaved like an animal and frightened the girl into this. Maybe it was best to wait for her to calm down.
Finally, drained of energy, Meryem collapsed in a heap. İrfan saw that she was only half-conscious, but he still hesitated to approach. He knew something that triggered this incident must have happened to the girl. It was more than likely that she had been raped. Again more than likely by an elderly man. Could it be that the girl’s uncle, Cemal’s father, had raped her? But wasn’t the man a sheikh of some religious order? But what difference did that make!
If his suspicions were right, Meryem had just revealed the deepest secret of her life. His heart wrenched with the knowledge that she had been hiding such a painful, horrifying secret. And it was he who had caused her the shock of remembering it. Yet this same shock she had experienced could also help drain the poison from inside of her.
İrfan gathered all his courage together and approached the girl. He lifted her head, placed it gently in his lap, and began to stroke her hair. Cautiously, he whispered, “Don’t be scared, Meryem. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
In a few minutes, she regained consciousness. She did not speak but İrfan felt warm teardrops fall and wet his leg. It was good that she was able to cry, and it also meant the crisis was over.
“I’m sorry I frightened you,” he said. “I didn’t mean any harm. I only wanted to protect you, I swear. Like a father…”
The girl continued to cry.
İrfan realized that he had entered dangerous waters again. “Did a man hurt you?”
Meryem wept silently.
“You thought I was your uncle, didn’t you?” he asked. “Did he rape you?”
Meryem sobbed, and İrfan concluded that he was right. She did not deny it. Respecting Meryem’s distress, he remained silent.
He recalled his past conversations with Kürat Bey, a retired judge who was Aysel’s uncle. Kürat Bey had worked for many years in various Anatolian towns and cities. Once, when İrfan had asked him what kind of crime was most common in Anatolia, the judge had startled him. İrfan had expected the answer to be homicide or larceny, but the old man told him that it was incest. “Since the girls in the case are ashamed and embarrassed, these incidents are usually not brought before the law. For instance, after a young man gets married and leaves for his military service, his father begins to harass the young bride. Uncles and in-laws rape their nieces. Unfortunately, such incidents are common, and in the end, it’s always the women who pay, either by committing suicide or being murdered.”
The sobbing girl fell asleep on İrfan’s knee. So Meryem was one of those who had somehow been spared from suicide or death. Her figure looked so vulnerable in the moonlight. Trying hard not to disturb her, İrfan stretched over to get her T-shirt and pants in order to cover her. Afraid to breathe, he then waited for her to wake up.
On the way back to the sailboat, Meryem held her head between her hands, bent over as if in great pain. İrfan apologized again as the dinghy moved silently forward. He had not intended to hurt her; his only intention had been to do good. Perhaps, after all, what had happened might help her overcome her feelings of shame.
He told her that, according to the psychologists, a secret once disclosed would cause the pain to be obliterated. “My mother says that only a human can heal another human. Tell me your secret so that you can let the poison out.”
The girl did not move or speak.
“Was it your uncle?”
She did not answer.
“Was it Cemal’s father?”
She had remained silent, looking as if she had surrendered to a power greater than herself.
* * *
Suddenly, as he was lost in his thoughts, there was a tremendous crash, and İrfan was flung across the deck. The sailboat had hit something. Was it a Greek island or the Turkish shore? Or was a rock in the sea breaking the boat into pieces?
İrfan heard the sheet iron tear like paper, making horrific noises, yet h
e was determined not to get up from the deck. He was not afraid. His fear—the bird fluttering its wings inside his chest—had been replaced by calm submission. Soon, the cool water touched his face and İrfan felt the vast, cold, magnificent darkness of the Aegean Sea. He smiled.
EVERYONE HAS A SECRET
That night, Meryem had dreamed again about the phoenix tormenting her with its black beard and pincerlike beak. It was the first time she had seen the creature since leaving the barn. On the narrow bed in her cabin, she writhed and moaned, begging the bird to let her go. The creature did not listen but went on ferociously stabbing at the sinful place between her legs.
Meryem had almost forgotten that place of sin. In fact, she had no longer considered that part of her body sinful. When she woke up in her cabin with a terrible headache, she felt as hopeless and miserable as she had in the barn. All the bad memories she had blocked out came rushing back to her once again. No matter what she did, she was unable to release herself from the fear and guilt that flooded her heart. Her bloody flesh felt immersed in sin. Maybe it would have been better if she had tied the greasy rope around her neck. By now, her name and her face would have been forgotten, and no one would remember her. As it was, she felt that her sin would haunt her forever.
She hated the new clothes she had put on with such excitement just a few days before. She was different from those others and had no right to wear them. Those pants, T-shirt, and belt were part of her sin. She wanted to wrap herself up in her threadbare dress, put on her black plastic shoes, and cover her head tightly with a scarf. The courage she had found on the sea had completely disappeared, and she had become a timid little girl again. She felt she had gone out of her depth.
Meryem oscillated between extremes. One moment she felt at the height of her courage, and the next she plunged into the depths of cowardice. She did not believe her fear would ever go away.
Bliss: A Novel Page 26
