Read Online Silent House by Orhan Pamuk - Free Book Online Page B

kitchen, which I took out to the chicken coop. As the chickens fluttered around clucking, I broke two eggs carefully at one end, drank the liquid inside, and ate my bread. Leaving the coop door open, I was bringing the other eggs back to the kitchen when I received a surprise: Nilgün was awake; she was going somewhere with her bag. When she saw me she smiled.
    “Good morning, Recep.”
    “Where are you going at this hour?”
    “To the sea. It’s crowded later. I’ll just take a dip. Are the eggs from the coop?”
    “Yes,” I said, somehow feeling guilty. “Do you want breakfast?”
    “I do,” said Nilgün, laughing, and left.
    I watched her from behind. A cautious, fussy, wary cat. Sandals on her feet, legs bare. When she was little, her legs were like sticks. I went inside and put on water for the tea. Her mother had been the same. Now she was in the graveyard. We’ll go and we’ll pray. Did she remember her mother? She wouldn’t, she was only three. Doğan Bey was a district administrator in the east; he sent them here the last two summers. Your mother would sit in the garden with Metin on her lap and you at her side, the sun would be on her pale face all day long, but she’d go back to Kemah as white as she came. I used to say to her, Would you like some cherry juice,
küçükhanim
, Thank you, Recep, she’d say, put it over there, little Metin on her lap; I’d put it down, two hours later I’d look, and she’d only have had two sips from the big glass. Then Faruk would come in, fat and sweaty. Mom, I’m thirsty, he’d say, and down the whole thing in one gulp. Good for you! I got out the tablecloth and was spreading it on the table when the smell hit me: Faruk Bey spilled
raki
on the table last night. I went and got a cloth to wipe it. By now the water had boiled; I brewed the tea. There was milk left over from last night. I’ll go to Nevzat tomorrow. I thought of having a coffee, but I held back and gave myself over to work. While I was setting the table Faruk came downstairs. His heavy steps made the boards squeak, just like his grandfather’s. He yawned and muttered something.
    “I made tea,” I said. “Sit and I’ll bring you your breakfast.”
    He plopped onto the chair from which he’d been drinking last night.
    “Do you want milk, too?” I said. “We have some good, rich milk.”
    “Okay, bring it!” he said. “It’ll be good for my stomach.”
    I went to the kitchen. His stomach. Those poisonous liquids he kept drinking would burn a hole through it in the end. If you drink again, Madam said, you’ll die. Did you hear what the doctor said? Doğan Bey looked down, thinking, then he said something like:If my mind can’t function I’m better off dying, Mother, I can’t live without thinking, but Madam said, this isn’t thinking, my boy, it’s just depression, but they had stopped listening to each other by that point. Then Doğan Bey died, writing all those letters. Blood was coming out of his mouth, just like his father, it must have been from his stomach, Madam was sobbing, calling for me, as though I could do something. Before he died I took off his bloody shirt, put a freshly ironed one on him, and he was gone. We’ll go to the cemetery. I boiled the milk and poured it nicely into a glass. The belly is a dark world that only the Prophet Jonah knows. When I think of that dark pit my hair stands on end. But it was as though I didn’t have a stomach; because I know my limits, I’m not like them. When I brought the milk, I saw that Nilgün had arrived, so quick! Her wet hair was beautiful.
    “Should I give you your breakfast?” I said.
    “Isn’t Grandmother coming down to breakfast?” said Nilgün.
    “She’s coming down,” I said. “She comes down mornings and evenings.”
    “Why doesn’t she come down for lunch?”
    “She doesn’t like the noise from the beach,” I said. “I bring a tray up to her at midday.”
    “Let’s wait for Grandmother,” said