spreads me onto the waiting page; I bee delightfully ticklish。 Thereby; as I
bring my color to the page; it’s as if I mand the world to “Be!” Yes; those
who cannot see would deny it; but the truth is I can be found everywhere。
207
I; SHEKURE
Before the children awoke; I wrote Black a brief note telling him to hurry to
the house of the Hanged Jew and pressed it into Hayriye’s hand so that she
might rush to Esther。 As Hayriye took the letter; she looked into my eyes with
more fearlessness than usual despite worrying what was to bee of us; and
I; who no longer had a father to fear; returned her glare with newfound
temerity。 This exchange would determine the tone of our relationship in the
future。 Over the last two years; I suspected Hayriye might even have a child by
my father; and forgetting her status as slave; maneuver to bee lady of the
house。 I visited my unfortunate father; respectfully kissing his now stiffened
hand; which; oddly; hadn’t lost its softness。 I hid my father’s shoes; quilted
turban and purple cloak; then explained to the children once they awoke that
their grandfather had gotten better and had left for the Mustafa Pasha district
early in the morning。
Hayriye returned from her morning errand。 As she was laying out the low
table for breakfast; and I was placing a portion of orange jam in the middle of
it; I imagined how Esther was now calling at Black’s door。 The snow had
stopped and the sun had begun to shine。
In the garden of the Hanged Jew; I encountered a familiar scene。 The icicles
hanging from the eaves and window casings were quickly shrinking; and the
garden that smelled of mold and rotting leaves was eagerly absorbing the sun。 I
found Black waiting in the spot where I’d first seen him last night—it seemed
so long ago; as if weeks had passed。 I raised my veil and said:
“You can be glad; if you feel the urge。 My father’s objections and doubts
will not e between us anymore。 While you were craftily trying to lay your
hands on me here last night; a devil…of…a…man broke into our empty house and
murdered my father。”
Rather than wondering about Black’s reaction; you’re probably puzzling
over why I spoke so coldly and somewhat insincerely。 I don’t quite know the
answer myself。 Maybe I thought I’d cry otherwise; provoking Black to embrace
me; and I’d bee intimate with him sooner than I wanted。
“He destroyed our home with a thoroughness that clearly reveals anger and
hatred。 I don’t think his work is done either; I don’t expect this devil will
calmly retire to some corner now。 He stole the final picture。 I’m calling on you
to protect me—protect us—and keep my father’s book from him。 Now tell