Sincerely Yours, No Matter Where

The Power of Friendship III

Thomas laid peacefully in his bed, until a noisy chuckling sound startled him out of his slumber. His eyes felt gummed shut and impossible to open. Yawning, he wiped at his face and stumbled across the room. There was a dry, bitter taste in his mouth and he smacked his lips several times to make it go away. He searched for the culprit.

A white-throated kingfisher was perched on a clothesline tied around one of the metal bars outside his window and connected to the railing of his neighbor's patio. The greenish-blue wings seemed almost luminescent against the chestnut-colored feathers on its back, especially when it puffed and shivered. It turned to Thomas and raised a large red bill toward the sky.

Chake-ake-ake-ake-ake! The bird loudly chuckled.

More of them swiftly flew in hordes and joined in. In the early mornings, the kingfishers served as Istanbul's faithful alarm system, but even after hearing them for almost four weeks, he couldn't get used to the sound. He swayed and rested his forehead on the glass, groggily gazing at the city.

Streets bloomed with a dusty orange hue as daylight spilled over the rooftops of the tightly compacted buildings and faintly peered through the thin gaps between them. Every building had a different color and design. From afar, some looked like hollowed out muffins with intricate icing on top, while others resembled onion bulbs imprisoned by the long spires shooting up from their sides. If an adult were to stand at the middle of the city, an overwhelming feeling of mental disorientation and claustrophobia would start to take place. But to Thomas, it was a fairytale-like labyrinth plucked out from a book.

"Over fifteen million people currently reside in Istanbul," a guide had said during a tour. The speech echoed in his mind.

Most of those people were probably waking up from all the noise the kingfishers were making. Was Christina already awake, staring at the birds as they laughed for what they've done? He thought to himself, and with a gasp, suddenly remembered that he promised to visit her early in the morning.

He darted to the bathroom. There was still plenty of time, but his sleepy mind couldn't discern what the time span of two hours was.

Second chance meetings would've seemed very improbable in such a labyrinthine city, but by some serendipitous fortune, Christina and her father were lodging no more than two blocks away from him. It was a convenient distance he gladly walked everyday for three weeks, and he couldn't wait to do it one last time.

When he exited the bedroom, he found his parents casually lounging in the living room. His father was sitting on a loveseat, hunched over and busily typing away on his tablet. His mother sat on the sofa across, jotting down a list of items they shouldn't forget. Her left hand incessantly tapped the black coffee table and her mouth silently moved as she read the piece of paper.

He planted himself between them and blurted, "mom? Dad? Can I have some money to go to Ali Usta?"

"And a good morning to you too," his mother looked up. "So, you want to go get ice cream? Does this have anything to do with Christina and your final-day-wish?"

"Yup, I want to take her there. She hasn't been."

She smiled. "Isn't that cute, honey? He wants to take his little girlfriend out on a date!"

His father nodded and chuckled.

"Moooooom! Ew? She's not my girlfriend. She's my friend. Freh-en-D. Whatever. So, can I? Can I? Please?" Repeatedly shifting his weight, he clasped both hands and pouted.

"Hmm, I have one-hundred and twenty Turkish liras. You can have it all, if you can guess what it is in dollars." He silently waited.

Thomas blinked vigorously and huffed. "Are you serious?"