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第27章

my name is red-我的名字叫红-第27章

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protracted  silence;  he  added;  “Is  it  that  you  want  to  leave  me;  my  dear 
daughter?” 
“Last night I dreamed that my husband had died;” I said。 I didn’t cry the 
way a woman who’d actually seen such a dream would have。 
“Like those who know how to read a picture; one should know how to read 
a dream。” 
“Would you consider it appropriate for me to describe my dream?” 
There was a pause: We smiled at each other; quickly inferring—as intelligent 
people do—all possible conclusions from the matter at hand。 
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“By  interpreting  your  dream;  I  might  be  convinced  of  his  death;  yet  your 
father…in…law; your brother…in…law and the judge; who is obligated to listen to 
them; will demand more proof。” 
“Two years have passed since I returned here with the children and my in…
laws haven’t been able to force me back…” 
“Because they very well realize that they have their own misdeeds to answer 
for;”  said  my  father。  “This  doesn’t  mean  that  they’ll  be  willing  to  let  you 
petition for a divorce。” 
“If we were followers of the Maliki or the Hanbeli sects;” I said; “the judge; 
acknowledging  that  four  years  have  passed;  would  grant  me  a  divorce  in 
addition  to  securing  a  support  allowance  for  me。  But  since  we  are;  many 
thanks to Allah; Hanefis; this option is not open to us。” 
“Don’t mention the üsküdar judge’s Shafüte stand…in to me。 That’s not a 
sound venture。” 
“All the women of Istanbul whose husbands are missing at the front go to 
him with their witnesses to get divorced。 Since he’s a Shafüte; he simply asks; 
”Is your husband missing?“ ”How long has he been missing?“ ”Are you having 
trouble  making  ends  meet?“  ”Are  these  your  witnesses?“  and  immediately 
grants the divorce。” 
“My  dear  Shekure;  who’s  planted  such  schemes  in  your  head?”  he  said。 
“Who’s stripped you of your reason?” 
“After I’m divorced once and for all; if there is a man who can truly strip 
me  of  my  reason;  you  will;  of  course;  tell  me  who  that  might  be  and  I  shall 
never question your decision about my husband。” 
My shrewd father; realizing that his daughter was as shrewd as he; began to 
blink。 My father would blink rapidly like this for three reasons: 1。 because he 
was in a tight spot and his mind was racing to find a clever way out; 2。 because 
he was on the verge of tears of hopelessness and sorrow; 3。 because he was in a 
tight spot; cunningly bining reasons 1 and 2 to give the impression that he 
might soon cry out of sorrow。 
“Are  you  taking  the  children  and  abandoning  your  old  father?  Do  you 
realize that on account of our book”—yes; he said “our book”—“I was afraid 
of  being  murdered;  but  now  that  you  want  to  take  the  children  and  leave;  I 
wele death。” 
“My  dear  father;  wasn’t  it  you  who  always  said  that  only  a  divorce  could 
save me from that good…for…nothing brother…in…law?” 
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“I  don’t  want  you  to  abandon  me。  One  day  your  husband  might  return。 
Even if he doesn’t; there’s no harm in your being married—so long as you live 
in this house with your father。” 
“I want nothing more than to live in this house with you。” 
“Darling;  weren’t  you  just  now  saying  that  you  wanted  to  get  married  as 
soon as possible?” 
This is the dead end you reach by arguing with your father: In due course; 
you too will be convinced that you’re in the wrong。 
“I was;” I said; gazing at the ground in front of me。 Then; holding back my 
tears and encouraged by the truth of what came to mind; I said: 
“All right then; shall I never be married again?” 
“There’s a special place in my heart for the son…in…law who won’t take you 
far from me。 Who is your suitor; would he be willing to live here with us in 
this house?” 
I fell silent。 We both knew; of course; that my father would never respect a 
son…in…law willing to live here together with us; and would gradually demean 
and stifle him。 And as Father’s underhanded and expert belittling of the man 
who’d moved in with his bride’s family proceeded I would soon want to be 
that wife no more。 
“Without  a  father’s  approval;  in  your  situation;  you  know  that  getting 
married is practically impossible; don’t you? I don’t want you to get married; 
and I refuse to grant you permission to do so—” 
“I don’t want to get married; I want a divorce。” 
“—because some thoughtless beast of a man who cares about nothing but 
his own concerns might hurt you。 You know how much I love you; don’t you; 
my dear Shekure? Besides; we must finish this book。” 
I  said  nothing。  For  if  I  were  to  speak—prompted  by  the  Devil;  who  was 
aware  of  my  anger—I  would  tell  my  father  right  to  his  face  that  I  knew  he 
slept with Hayriye at night。 But would it befit a woman like me to admit that 
she knew that her elderly father slept with a slave girl? 
“Who is it that wants to marry you?” 
I gazed at the ground before me and barrassment; 
but out of anger。 And recognizing the extent of my anger; but not being able to 
respond  in  some  manner  made  me  even  more  furious。  At  that  juncture;  I 
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imagined  my  father  and  Hayriye  in  bed  in  that  ridiculous  and  disgusting 
position。 I was on the verge of tears when I said: 
“There’s zucchini on the stove; I don’t want it to burn。” 
I crossed to the room beside the staircase; the one with the always…closed 
window that looked out onto the well。 In the dark; quickly locating the roll…up 
mattress with my hands; I spread it open and lay down: Ah; what a wonderful 
feeling;  to  lie  down  and  fall  asleep  in  a  fit  of  tears  like  a  child  who’s  been 
wrongly chastised! And what agony it is to know that I’m the only person in 
the world who likes me。 As I cry in my solitude; only you; who hear my sobs 
and moans; can e to my aid。 
A while later; I found that Orhan had stretched out upon my bed。 He placed 
his head between my breasts。 I saw that he was sighing; and crying too。 Pulling 
him close to me; I held him。 
“Don’t cry; Mother;” he said later。 “Father will return from the war。” 
“How do you know?” 
He didn’t answer。 I loved him so; and pressed him to my bosom so that I 
forgot  my  own  worries  entirely。  Before  I  cuddle  up  with  my  fine…boned; 
delicate  Orhan  and  fall  asleep;  let  me  confess  my  only  pressing  concern:  I 
regret  having  just  now  told  you;  out  of  spite;  about  the  matter  between  my 
father  and  Hayriye。  No;  I  wasn’t  lying;  but  I’m  still  so  embarrassed  that  it 
would be best if you forgot about it。 Pretend I never mentioned anything; as if 
my father and Hayriye weren’t thus involved; please? 
 
 
   
101 
 
I AM YOUR BELOVED UNCLE 
 
Alas; it’s difficult having a daughter; difficult。 As she wept in the next room; I 
could hear her sobs; but I could do nothing but look at the pages of the book I 
held in my hands。 On a page of the volume I was trying to read; the Book of the 
Apocalypse;  it  was  written  that  three  days  after  death;  one’s  soul;  receiving 
permission from Allah; visited the body it formerly inhabited。 Upon beholding 
the piteous state of its body; bloodied; deposing and oozing; as it rested in 
the grave; the soul would sorrowfully; tearfully and mournfully grieve; “Lo; my 
miserable  mortal  coil;  my  dear  wretched  old  body。”  At  once;  I  thought  of 
Elegant Effendi’s bitter end at the bottom of the well; and how upset his soul 
naturally must have been upon visiting; and finding his body not at his grave; 
but in the well。 
When Shekure’s sobs died down; I put aside the book on death。 I donned 
an  extra  woolen  undershirt;  wound  my  thick  wool  sash  tightly  around  my 
waist so as to warm my midriff; pulled on my shalwar pants lined with rabbit 
fur and; as I was leaving the house; turned to discover Shevket in the doorway。 
“Where are you going; Grandfather?” 
“You get back inside。 To the funeral。” 
I passed through snow…covered streets; between poor rotting houses leaning 
this  way  and  that  way;  barely  able  to  stand;  and  through  fire…ravaged 
neighborhoods。 I walked for a long time; taking the cautious steps of an aging 
man  trying  not  to  slip  and  fall  on  the  ice。  I  passed  through  out…of…the…way 
neighborhoods  and  gardens  and  fields。  I  walked  by  shops  that  dealt  in 
carriages  and  wheels  and  passed  iron  smiths;  saddlers;  harness  makers  and 
farriers on my way toward the walls of the city。 
I’m not sure why they decided to start the funeral procession all the way at 
the Mihrimah Mosque near the city’s Edirne Gate。 At the mosque; I embraced 
the  big…headed  and  bewildered  brothers  of  the  deceased;  who  looked  angry 
and  obstinate。  We  miniaturists  and  calligraphers  embraced  each  other  and 
wept。 As I was performing my prayers within a leaden fog that had suddenly 
descended and swallowed everything; my gaze fell on the coffin resting atop 
the mosque’s stone funeral block; and I felt such

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