It was evening when the call arrived.
They'd been at the mountain house eating dinner and watching the sky turn a rosy-orange as the sun dipped below the horizon when Can's phone began buzzing unexpectedly. He picked it up, his face soon turning somber.
His father had suddenly deteriorated.
It was the hospital, not Aziz himself, that made the phone call - the first indication that something was wrong.
Can had been tearing himself in two with worry over the last few weeks. Not wanting to abandon his expecting wife and relocate himself all the way to Mexico where Aziz was currently having treatment, yet desperate to reach out to his father. Hours of phone calls had bridged the miles between them, and after Aziz convinced his sons that he was stable for now, Can had been optimistic that his father would be alright until after the baby was born. The three of them could make the trip together. After a few weeks of good news, Can's worry had dwindled.
It was back now.
He needed to go, but there was no way he was going to put Sanem through the ordeal of the sixteen-hour journey. She insisted he was being melodramatic, but Can was relieved when the travel agency refused to let her fly.
The nurse informed Can that Aziz wished to return to Turkey, to return home, to spend his remaining time with his family. But he needed someone to escort him on the flight over.
"Tamam," Can nodded, trying to stop his hand from shaking as he held the phone to his ear. Emre could have made the trip on his own, but Sanem argued that Can should be there too in case Aziz's condition rapidly declined from the stress of the journey. He was reluctant, but he eventually agreed; it was only three days. What was the harm?
At eight months along, Sanem had officially begun describing herself as heavily pregnant. Emphasis on the 'heavy'. Sneakers were her friend; all thought of fashion had given way to comfort and sensibility. It turned out, that scooting herself around the office on a wheelie chair was far preferable to walking. She was getting uncomfortable. But wanting to keep her mind occupied, and in an attempt stop Can fretting about her being home alone, she continued going to the office. Whether she actually aided with anything productive was questionable, however.
Aside from Leyla and Emre (who didn't really count because they were family), Deren was the first of their colleagues to feel the baby kick. As Deren described it, she'd been in the wrong place at the wrong time and Sanem had excitedly grabbed onto her hand and placed it over her belly, ignoring Deren's squeak of protest.
He'd suddenly started kicking, which he seemed reluctant to do while she was in the office. It took Sanem a second to realise that Deren might not appreciate the contact; Sanem quickly dropped her friend's hand.
"Sorry."
But Deren let it linger for a moment longer before she pulled it away.
"You're spending a few nights at your parents," Can insisted a few days later, after booking the flights to Mexico. Arranging for Mevkibe to watch over Sanem while he was away had been his next priority.
"I am?" Sanem raised an eyebrow, amused at his overprotectiveness.
"Yes. Please. I don't want to have to be worrying about you too."
Sanem didn't fight him, even in the company of the pets, the house would seem too empty with him gone.
"I'll bring him back to you in one piece," Emre promised, giving Sanem a hug outside the bustling airport as Can unloaded the bags from the car. Then he turned to say goodbye to Leyla, who had come too to keep Sanem company on the drive home.
