“It’s because I don’t understand what my heart is saying that I’m
dispirited。”
For a moment it occurred to me that Shekure didn’t trust me at all; that
she was masterfully concealing her distrust in order to learn what I knew; that
she was trying to arouse my pity。 When I saw she wouldn’t be writing a
response to the letters at present; I grabbed my sack; entered the courtyard
and slipped away—but not before saying something I told all my maids; even
those who were cross…eyed:
“Fear not; my dear; if you keep those beautiful eyes of yours peeled; no
misfortune; no misfortune at all will befall you。”
96
I; SHEKURE
If truth be told; it used to be that each time Esther the clothier paid a visit; I’d
fantasize that a man stricken with love would finally be roused to write a
letter that could stir the heart of an intelligent woman like myself—beautiful;
well…bred and widowed; yet with her honor still intact—and set it pounding。
And to discover that the letter was from one of the usual suitors; would; at the
very least; fortify my resolve and forbearance to await my husband’s return。
But these days; every time Esther leaves; I bee confused and feel all the
more wretched。
I listened to the sounds of my world。 From the kitchen came the bubbling
sound of boiling water and the smell of lemons and onions。 Hayriye was
boiling zucchini。 Shevket and Orhan were frolicking and playing “swordsman”
in the courtyard beneath the pomegranate tree; I heard their shouts。 My father
was sitting silently in the next room。 I opened and read Hasan’s letter and was
reassured that there was no cause for alarm。 Still; I grew a little more
frightened of him; and congratulated myself for withstanding his efforts to
make love to me when we shared the same house。 Next; I read Black’s letter;
holding it gently as if it were some delicate and sensitive bird; and my
t