Bliss: A Novel (35 page)

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
Kür
at
Bey, a retired judge who was Aysel’s uncle.
Kür
at
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 he 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.

For some time, she lay curled up in bed moaning. Then she sat up and took off her bathing suit. Once more she put on her long underpants, cotton dress, and woolen socks. She also covered her head with a thin muslin cloth she found in the cabin. Then she felt better.

She considered she had been led astray by the professor, a man from the big city. If that evil man had not suggested it, she would never have worn a bathing suit or entered the water in the presence of a man. She hated the professor and never wanted to see him again.

She was comfortable in her old clothes. What scenarios she had pictured in her mind when lying in that bed: She had seen herself returning to her village and walking through the marketplace in her new clothes. People would be stunned by the sight of her new pants, pink T-shirt, sunglasses, and sports shoes and would scarcely believe their eyes. They would mistake her for a wealthy lady from the big city or even a tourist—whether German, French, or American—they could not tell.

The small stores on both sides of the muddy road would empty, and everyone—the grocer, the cloth-seller, the greengrocer, the attorney—would come up to her, even the government officials. “Who is she?” they would ask each other in awe. “Who is this rich lady?” Meryem would not say a word, but secretly, she would be laughing at them. All the women in the village would come to stare at her in envious amazement. Her aunt would be among them, with her pinched face, receding chin and tightly wrapped headscarf. She would look at her, but Meryem would pretend not to see her and walk away. The curious crowd would follow as she headed for Bibi’s house. When Bibi opened the door, Meryem would say, “It’s me—Meryem. Don’t you recognize me?”

She would take off her black sunglasses, then.

Amazed, the crowd would exclaim, “It’s Meryem! Our unfortunate Meryem!”

Her aunt would open her arms, and say, “Meryem, my dear girl!” But Meryem would turn her back on the woman who had left her crying outside her door.

Then, making sure that the whole crowd heard, she would declare, “Everyone in this village is a liar, Bibi. They smile at you, but behind your back, they lay traps for you. Everything they said when they sent me to Istanbul was a lie. There is not a single honest person here. And the worst is my aunt. Besides, Istanbul is very different from what they think. If you had seen Yakup’s house, you would have cried. Not even a dog would live there.”

She and Bibi would hug each other. Leaving the others outside, they would enter the house hand in hand.

Each time Meryem recalled this daydream, she added new details. Sometimes she would wonder at how quickly she had forgotten about Döne and add her into the fantasy. Another time, her father would take part in the story.

Now, bundled inside her old clothes, Meryem felt frightened and ill. She trembled as she thought about all the things she had dared to imagine. She felt her legs burn with fire as they had the day she visited
eker
Baba’s tomb, when her aunt had placed a burning match between her legs and Meryem had felt the heat of the flame. The boat began to smell of depilatory wax. “You have not waxed your hair in such a long time! You sinner! You’ll burn in hell!” The spiteful hags were touching her all over.