all about land. Property values are only going to rise. Everyone knows that. So people are racing to get their hands on land. Then it quickly becomes a blood feud. And people here are a little behind the times. Revenge is still a powerful emotion. If you ask me, money is a stronger incentive than revenge.’
‘You have a difficult job,’ I said, beginning to feel the rakı. It was just what I needed; I was pulling myself together.
‘Of course. That’s inevitable but I’m used to it now.’
‘Do they ever threaten you?’
‘Me?’ he said, surprised. The sincerity in his voice was real; clearly he had never considered someone actually threatening him. ‘No, people here would never go so far.’
‘Are they afraid of you?’
‘Oh no, please, it’s not that, it’s just that my family has been here for such a long time, and there are a lot of us, so let’s just say it’s respect for the family.’
He had such a calm and natural confidence and I realised he was condescending to me in the same way he did to everyone else. He had already ruled me out as a potential rival.
He treated me like a valuable but useless antique vase, never offending or threatening me. I was faced with a dilemma. If I were to submit to his courtesy, which was gift-wrapped in pride, he’d place me among the bigwigs and he’d speak to Zuhal about me with a sort of affection; but if I were to counter with the same indifferent air of arrogance, he’d never speak well of me, and prevent me from learning more about the people in town.
I was caught between curiosity and pride.
I decided to take a step back to a place where I was safe from a sudden attack of kindness or his insolent aggression. But it wasn’t really a conscious decision, rather an action seemingly independent of my thoughts.
‘Are you and Zuhal old friends?’ I asked.
I knew that on the subject of Zuhal it was best to feign ignorance. Surely both of us would talk about our meeting with her separately, reshaping the scene in our own way.
I imagined the way she would laugh at us.
‘We’re friends from university,’ he said. ‘We went to the same college in Minnesota. You wouldn’t believe it. Someone from here must have discovered the place because there were a lot of students from around here at the time. Zuhal majored in economics …’
‘And you?’ I asked with a smile. ‘Literature?’
‘No,’ he said, laughing. ‘We own all of these olive groves here, so my dad wanted me to study agricultural engineering.’
‘Why the interest in literature?’
‘My uncle. There’s a black sheep in every family. He loves reading.’
Then he paused: ‘Black sheep in the positive sense. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.’
He had a polite and cultivated side: and the courtesy was genuine.
‘No offence taken,’ I said. Then I laughed and added: ‘In my books the “black sheep” are almost always portrayed in a positive light.’
‘Then let’s drink to them.’
At that moment I sensed that we might actually become good friends, despite the strange tension between us. One of the strangest friendships is the one between two men pursuing the same woman and we seemed to be heading in that direction. I was both excited and a little nervous. ‘You were telling me about your uncle …’
‘He wasn’t interested in the family business. We have a little house up in the olive groves, which was built so we could spend summers there but no one ever really went. I used to go up there with my uncle. Like I said, he wasn’t interested in working, but he was a really fun guy, always making fun of people – you’d like him. He’d bring me books and the way he’d talk about them inspired me to read them. And I really enjoyed them. Introverts like reading, but you already know that.’
I didn’t take him for an introvert and the look on my face made him laugh.
‘One can be lonely in a crowd,’ he said. ‘It’s a bit of a cliché I’m afraid but, well, sometimes clichés are true.’ So he had some intellectual modesty. His overdone confidence had been undermined by the thought that he’d said something silly. So there were subjects in which he didn’t feel entirely comfortable. I was pleasantly surprised to see that on matters in which he didn’t see himself as the sole authority he was sensitive, even shy.
In my contentment I ignored the clear indications of my own malice. There are times when I can’t see what I’m doing, and this was one of them.
‘Life would be that much harder without clichés,’ I said. ‘Clichés constitute the courtesy that life has taught us. And it’s true that you can be alone in a crowd. Unfortunately crowds are no cure for loneliness. Loneliness is an illness that can only be cured by one person. There’s another cliché for you … But who could deny it?’
‘Some might. But then they probably don’t know anything about loneliness.’
We looked at each other.
Then we both burst out laughing and everyone in the restaurant turned to look at us. It was the last thing I had expected.
I don’t think we really knew why we were laughing but something about our situation and the conversation we were having was suddenly incredibly funny.
He looked at his watch.
‘I should get going. There are things I have to do.’
Standing up, he said, ‘Some friends are coming over this weekend. We’re going to roast a lamb on the spit. You should come over if you have the time. Zuhal’s coming.’
Checkmate.
I was completely thrown. I was chatting with Zuhal every night (we knew the most intimate details about each other) but she’d never told me that she was going to the party.
She had told Mustafa.
So while she was leading me on, she was also speaking to him and even planning to see him.
The blow was devastating. I could hardly control myself.
‘Zuhal’s coming too,’ I said, without concealing my surprise.
He looked at me intently. He’d hit me just where he wanted.
‘That’s right. You should come.’
‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘I’ll try to make it.’
I had another drink after he left. When the other people in the restaurant got up to leave they nodded when our eyes met.
I had been accepted into high society.
But the initiation ceremony would be far more painful.
VIII
