KEREM
Flying.
It always meant positive things in my life.
Happy moments.
My first flight for a math Olympiad when I was little, the first vacation with my family, the love of books when I went to an entrepreneurial or reading fair, everything that is well placed for the same purpose that later it came to mean from the highest metaphor to the deepest pain.
Immersed in my own sorrows, I steel myself and try to remain hermetic to any sensation that the idea of getting on a plane might cause me. Ali comes with me, but it is not me who is in charge but the governess whom the common people call nothing more than "nanny" although I find that term very basic and mundane.
My son, of course, is instructed by someone who is above that, there is much more than a simple caregiver for the creature that is the blood of my blood.
I resolve that we must leave at once. Here I am the one who gives the order, it is my private flight and it is my execution of terms as I intend that they should be followed according to the rules that I have to instruct.
I decide that it is time to move on with my business as scheduled on the agenda. We walk towards the seats that are assigned to us and I let my senses adjust to keeping my mind blank from all the techniques that I can apply to be able to tolerate it inside.
We are about to take off when it finally happens. The turbines start up, we move inside the brutal machine that makes up this particular aerodrome and we rise to the sound of Ali crying, who has just released an annoying and torturous cry that pierces my brain without mercy.
Geez, how is it possible?
While we're in the air, my eardrums hurt as the tension and altitude cause my ears to clog, Ali cries, my head tries to tell me over and over again that it's better to stay blank, but the crisis that revolutionizes my interior he remains gagged until we settle into the air and I try to process what is happening. I process it deep in my mind until I bury it where it belongs. I let the minutes tick by as I imagine Zara by my side, holding my hand and telling me in her velvety voice "everything will be fine, Kerem, don't be afraid, everything will be wonderful as you always planned. This trip is special for you. Keep it special for the three of us."
Sigh.
I open my eyes.
As soon as I think I have the feeling that I can begin to settle into the flight and be aware that my wife may be by my side accompanying me, I realize that we are close to landing.
Time has passed very quickly. Flying? Ha. Yes, too fast and too soon we have reached our destination.
Ali has stopped crying.
We have arrived.
"Who is the most beautiful baby? Who?"
The voice of the woman who is in charge of Ali's care is unbearable for me, she can't talk like a fool to my son. He is not a fool, he is a child.
"Please don't use that tone when talking to Ali Deniz," I say, accentuating each word as our luggage is handed over to us.
She looks at me with a certain darkness crossing her face.
"I'm sorry, sir," she tells me.
I clear my throat, annoyed by the scene I just witnessed.
"I don't want my son to grow up hearing people talk to him that way. The world will not treat him like you treat him, he needs to be disciplined" I warn her.
She just nods and we move on.
Once at the entrance to the private airfield, Neville appears walking in my direction after getting out of one of the private cars that has been sent by the firm to which I belong. I let him do it and gracefully boast of seeing him arrive alone.
As soon as he reaches me, our men begin to load the luggage into the car that has been ordered for us.
"I told you she wouldn't make it, Neville," I warn him. "When a girl is irresponsible and inoperative, she is and that's it."
"Mr. Deniz," he says. "She..."
"Don't worry, I understand. We'll find someone better."
"But... She... And her flight..."
"My flight has been excellent. Nothing to say. I do not want to talk about the flight, I have decided, because most likely it will start with the absurd question of "poor Kerem who does not say a word, that everything in his life revolves around airplanes and his wife got on to one never to return."
No.
"I don't want to talk about it anymore."
"She's here, sir," he tells me. "Right...Right behind you."
He tells me in Turkish and I distinguish the words with a naturalness and immediacy as I hadn't understood anything for a long time.
A girl at least eight inches shorter than me is right now behind me. She has a high ponytail, sneakers, sweatshirt and jeans. She hasn't even put on makeup. What kind of woman expects to be taken seriously when she doesn't even bother to dress up?
Although she has such delicate youth and features that they could stand out even more with a little care. She's beautiful, I admit it, but she's not the kind of woman who knows she's beautiful, on the contrary, she's more of a kind of natural, magical, precious feat.
The kind of women that one would objectively internally recognize as pretty, but I'm not going to agree with my assumptions.
"Oh, Judith," I greet her, giving her a smirk even with her gaze up at her perspective. "So nice to see you."
"My name is Juliet." she glares at me.
"Look at you. Juliana. I thought you would not come."
She rolls her eyes.
"Yes, I already heard 'Yuliett'." But I am not going to agree with her in her attempt to correct me, here I am the one who is always right because of a matter of hierarchy. And if I say her name is Mona Lisa, well, she's called Mona Lisa, period.
"Then," She turns to my son. "Is he my little student?"
"Yes. But don't talk to him yet."
We have returned to English.
"Why?" she asks me.
"Because you have to get in the car with me and we'll talk first.They will go in another vehicle. Ali has his own vehicle for him and his people, but first you come with me."
"At least you know how to say 'please'?"
"As you said?"
"Where do I get in?"
The driver opens the doors for us to get in while Neville leaves in another with the baby.
Once in the back, I give the order that we can leave now and I turn to Juliet to ask her, boasting about the asymmetry:
"Did they explain the clauses to you?"
"Neville has been very kind."
"So you signed?"
"Yes."
"Don't think you're not on trial."
"Understood."
"You will have in your care the most valuable thing I have in life. Are you aware of what that means?"
"And are you aware that it is important to treat other people well in order to have the same in return?"
"That's two. Three with the schedule. That insolence is expensive."
"One of the clauses implied a job on my part with you and that is what I would call it, teaching you to behave like a human being again. Mr. Deniz, I don't care if you've just been widowed, I understand and I'm sorry for that tragedy, but you shouldn't make others miserable because of the pain you carry inside."
"No..."
"And let the others finish speaking."
"Finish talking?"
"That's how it is."
"Y...?"
"I've just finished."
"Good." Sighs.
She seems furious.
But that makes her even prettier.
I press hard between my legs and we both fall into an awkward silence as we make our way to the hotel.
It becomes totally uncomfortable and low as lightning as soon as we reach the destination. Announcing us, Neville tries to have a few words with the hotel attendant who advises,
"Presidential Matrimonial Suite for Mr. Deniz."
"Yes."
"And two simple rooms..."
He gives his name and that of the governess.
"There has to be a mistake," Juliet murmurs. "What about me?"
"Miss Juliet Mandy's room, please," Neville says.
"Are you coming to the America Convention?"
"No."
"We're sorry. There are no more places, all the nearby hotels are full and all the reservations are taken. That's why we put Miss Mindy in the double room with Mr. Deniz."
"Oh thanks.... Wait, what?!"
"What?!"
I get that both Neville and Juliet and I have just released the same scream.