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whom I’d never see again。 But I wanted to leave this world； shedding it like
some tight…fitting garment that pinched。
I opened my mouth and abruptly all was color just as in the pictures of Our
Prophet’s Miraj journey； during which he visited Heaven。 Everything was
flooded in exquisite brightness as if generously painted with gold wash。 Painful
tears flowed from my eyes。 A strained exhalation passed from my lungs
through my mouth。 All was subsumed in wondrous silence。
I could see now that my soul had left my body and that I was cupped in
Azrael’s hand。 My soul； the size of a bee； was bathed in light； and it shuddered
as it left my body and continued to tremble like mercury in Azrael’s palm。 My
thoughts were not of this； however； but of the unfamiliar new world I’d just
been born into。
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After so much suffering； a calm overcame me。 Death did not cause me the
pain I’d feared； on the contrary； I relaxed； quickly realizing that my present
situation was a permanent one； whereas the constraints I’d felt in life were
only temporary。 This was how it would be from now on； for century upon
century； until the end of the universe。 This neither upset nor gladdened me。
Events I’d once endured briskly and sequentially were now spread over infinite
space and existed simultaneously。 As in one of those large double…leaf
paintings wherein a witty miniaturist has painted a number of unrelated
things in each corner—many things were happening all at once。
194
I； SHEKURE
It was snowing so hard that snowflakes occasionally passed right through my
veil into my eyes。 I picked my way through the garden covered in rotting grass；
mud and broken branches； then quickened my pace once I’d exited onto the
street。 I know you’re all wondering what I’m thinking。 How much do I trust
Black？ Let me be frank with you； then。 I myself don’t know what to think。 You
do understand； don’t you？ I’m confused。 This much； however； I do know： As
always； I’ll fall into the routine of meals； children； my father and errands； and
before long my heart； without even having to be asked； will whisper the truth
to me of its own accord。 Tomorrow； before noon； I’ll know whom I am to
marry。
I want to share something with you before I arrive home。 No！ e off it；
now； it’s not about the size of that monstrosity Black showed me。 If you want
we can talk about that later。 What I was going to discuss was Black’s haste。 It’s
not that he seems to think only of satisfying his lust。 To be honest； it’d make
no difference if he did。 What surprises me is his stupidity！ I suppose it never
crossed his mind that he could frighten and abduct me； play with my honor
and put me off； or open the door to even more dangerous outes。 I can tell
from his innocent expression how much he loves and desires me。 But after
waiting twelve years； why can’t he play the game according to the rules and
wait another twelve days？
Do you know I have the sinking feeling I’ve fallen in love with his
inpetence and his melancholy childlike glances？ At a time when it
would’ve been more appropriate to be irate with him； instead； I pitied him。
“Oh； my poor child；” a voice inside me said； “you suffer such torment and are
still so utterly inpetent。” I felt so protective of him that I might’ve even
made a mistake； I might’ve actually given myself to that spoiled little boy。
Thinking of my unfortunate children； I quickened my steps。 Just then； in
the early darkness and blinding snow； I thought a phantom of a man would
run right over me。 Ducking my head； I slipped by him。
Upon entering through the courtyard gate； I knew that Hayriye and the
children hadn’t yet returned。 Very well then； I’d e back in time； the
evening prayers hadn’t yet been called。 I climbed the stairs； the house smelled
of orange jam。 My father was in his darkened room with the blue door； my
feet were freezing。 I entered my room to the right beside the stairs holding a
lamp； and when I saw that the cabi had been opened； that the cushions had
195
fallen out and the room had been ransacked； I assumed it was the naughty
work of Shevket and Orhan。 There was a silence in the house； not unusual； yet
unlike the usual silence。 I donned my house clothes and sat alone in the
darkness； and as I gave myself over to momentary daydreaming； my mind
registered a noise ing from below； directly below me； not from the kitchen
but from the large room next to the stable； used in summertime as the
illustrating workshop。 Had my father gone down there； in this cold？ I didn’t
remember seeing the light of an oil lamp there； suddenly； I heard the squeak of
the front door between the stone walkway and the courtyard； and afterward；
the cursed and ominous barking of the pesky dogs roaming past the courtyard
gate—I was alarmed； to put it mildly。
“Hayriye；” I shouted。 “Shevket； Orhan…”
I felt a cold draft。 My father’s brazier must be burning； I ought to sit with
him and warm up。 As I went to be with him； holding an oil lamp aloft； my
thoughts weren’t with Black any longer； but with the children。
I crossed the wide hall diagonally； wondering if I should set water to boil on
the downstairs brazier for the gray mullet soup。 I entered the room with the
blue door。 Everything was in shambles。 Without thinking； I was about to say；
“What has my father done？”
Then I saw him on the floor。
I screamed； overe with horror。 Then I screamed again。 Gazing at my
father’s body； I fell silent。
Listen； I can tell by your tight…lipped and cold…blooded reaction that you’ve
known for some time what’s happened in this room。 If not everything； then
quite a lot。 What you’re wondering about now is my reaction to what I’ve
seen； what I feel。 As readers sometimes do when studying a picture； you’re
trying to discern the