Farewell: A Mansion in Occupied Istanbul (Turkish Literature) by Ayse Kulin Read Free Book Online

table in the selamlık. As recently as a week ago, he’d been unable to leave his room. She tapped lightly on the wooden surface of the table.
    “You summoned me, sir? Would you like some coffee?”
    “Mehpare, close the door please.”
    Mehpare closed the door and returned to her place beside the table. “Last time you sat here you caught a terrible cold. Why have you come downstairs? I’ll go and get the brazier . . .”
    “Sit down across from me,” said Kemal, pointing to the leather chair across from his.
    “But the brazier . . .”
    “Forget the brazier. Listen to me . . .”
    “But you’ll get cold . . .”
    “Mehpare! I’m not cold! Now hush and listen.” Mehpare sat down. “Yes, sir.”
    “You see this letter? It’s addressed to you.”
    “To me! Oh God! Who sent it?”
    “It’s from your family.”
    “Has something happened back home? Is someone ill? It’s not my aunt, is it?”
    “Someone in your house is both ill and not ill.”
    “What do you mean? I don’t understand.”
    “This letter informs the reader of an illness. But no one is ill.” Mehpare sat there, speechless, eyes wide. “Don’t worry. I wrote the letter, Mehpare.”
    “You wrote it?”
    “That’s right, I wrote it. It says that your aunt has fallen ill and wants to see you.”
    “But why would you write that?”
    “Because that way you’ll be able to show the letter to Saraylıhanım and receive permission to go home to Be ş ikta ş .”
    “Oh God!”
    “What are you afraid of? You’re familiar with Be ş ikta ş . You grew up there, didn’t you?”
    “I know Be ş ikta ş well, yes.”
    “Fine then. You’re off to visit your aunt.”
    “But sir . . . Why?”
    “Because I wish you to, Mehpare. This letter will allow you to visit a certain address in Be ş ikta ş . I’ll give it to you. You’re to deliver the letter, and in return they’ll give you an envelope to bring to me. That is all.”
    “Saraylıhanım won’t let me leave.”
    “There’s no harm trying. When she reads the letter I wrote, she’s liable to give her consent.”
    “But she’ll ask when it came. What should I tell her?”
    “Doesn’t the postman come at about the same time every day? At about ten in the morning?”
    “Yes.”
    “Well, it’s about ten o’clock right now and I’m sending you to the shops for tobacco. You’ll meet the postman at the door. He’ll give you the letter. You’ll tear open the envelope and throw it away. And when you read its contents, you’ll run, in tears, straight to Saraylıhanım. Don’t even think about going to Behice instead. She’d recognize my handwriting.”
    “What if she doesn’t believe me? What if she wants to see the envelope?”
    “Like I said, you’ll tear it up and throw it away. Into the waste bin in the garden.”
    “I can’t do it, sir. Please forgive me, but I can’t”
    “You’ll do it, Mehpare. And you’ll be tipped for your trouble.”
    “I don’t want a tip, sir. I’m begging you, please don’t send me away.”
    “If you don’t go, I’ll have to.”
    “But you can’t sir! Not onto the streets. You’ve only just got over your fever.”
    “The danger isn’t my fever but my getting caught. If I’m arrested I’ll go directly to prison.”
    “But you’d die in prison. Do you want to die?”
    “Of course not. I’ve got too much to do. But if you won’t help me, go I must, and either catch a chill or get caught. Either of those would be the end of me.”
    “Please don’t sir, I’m begging you.”
    “Then do as I say.”
    Mehpare started weeping. Hands pressed to her face, she rocked back and forth. Kemal stood up, then kneeled before her. He reached out and stroked a lock of hair that had spilled from beneath her cotton kerchief and onto her forehead. Then he caressed her cheek.
    “Don’t worry, Mehpare, everything will be alright. Once you obtain permission from Saraylıhanım, you’ll go to your aunt’s house and then to a house in