I dumped Raki all over the front of you. Then we spent the whole night together, wandering cobbled streets until we settled against a wall in the tower’s plaza. We talked, huddled together— well, snuggled together with the rest of the bottle. I was in the moment until the next day when we had to say goodbye. After stopping by your place for you to change and then tea overlooking the water, you walked me to the ferry and held me close. I realized you were wearing the same scarf around your shoulders, still covered with the smell that can now only remind me of you.
I saw the way you looked at your friend, when she got off the ferry, while I waited to get on. I’m not sure what it meant. Was your beautiful face broken by pain, or confusion? I won’t be surprised if I never see you again, but I hope for you and wait anyway.
—Ani
*********
Her name is Seda. I’ve known her all my life. I had to rejoin her betrothal party. Her fiancé’s people have been in Istanbul for a week and they leave tomorrow. I was sick of it, so I ditched them, which is when you ran into me, and the bottle, quite literally. At first you were a fun distraction—a very good distraction since I didn’t think about her the whole time we were together. I think you know how it felt to be with you, so you can understand how I’ve felt about her.
After I greeted everyone, we made our way toward the cafes and markets. It’s a short walk to the mosque we toured. As we reached the first buildings I turned to look for you and a breeze came up. The scarf is silky and delicate but also strong like you. Now it’s saturated with the scent of last night which will always remind me. The sun bounced off the water. It was golden, like the water’s name, but I had to turn away from the glare. I pulled the scarf up to wrap my head, to try again to fit in with the group.
Seda was making eyes at her new man and I was discarded, relegated to the back while the rest carried on with their conversations from before. Passing happy couples having tea as we went worsened my mood. Then, as we turned a corner, I saw a mural of a woman in profile. She was painted on a large roll-down security door, looking out toward the water, hair with flowers, blowing in the wind. I was afraid to see her and see myself, so I turned away and straight into Seda’s eyes. I blushed and she looked away. It was too short a walk to come to terms with it.
The tour, on the other hand, left ample time for my thoughts. Seda, my oldest friend and secret crush is getting married. I could stay beside her, as I’ve always done, like sisters. Our community would give me a place to fit in, as long as I conform. Alternatively, I could leave it behind, embrace myself and come to you. When you return to your home all too soon, you will have filled my senses, but be just a memory to keep me warm as I learn how to go forward, new and alone. The two ideas went around my head, each growing in turn as my feet followed the crowd through the mosque. The building’s purpose and our people around me called in silence for continuity, while my whole-self struggled to keep to my heart’s desire. They pounded back and forth so fiercely that when the clamor of the prayer call began, I hardly noticed.
I followed the women onto the grounds to recover some headspace. The air was fresh and before long I found myself at a wrought iron fence that overlooks the water. I saw the tower and wondered where you were. The scent of anise on my scarf picked up again and the thought of not seeing you filled me with terror as if the whole estuary had emptied out from under me. I turned away to find Seda, standing alone, looking at me again. This time she didn’t look away and I saw pity. She knows. So for her eyes, but really to satisfy myself, I unwrapped my face and uncovered my hair. She drew a sharp breath as the wind came up between us, pulling the silk scarf from my hands into the air. We laughed together and watched it drift over the fence and tumble past rooftops below. I made a choice in that instant and I knew I couldn’t bear to lose it. I hiked my skirt up to my shorts, barreled past Seda, who was by then in complete fits to see me running for the nearest gate. It took some effort, but I have a gift for you. Do wait for me.
—Merve
Love letters in the City Between Continents
