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Authors: Mehmet Murat Somer
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you?”
“I’m not stupid. What’s to not understand?”
“Well then, let me treat you to a meal, but don’t expect me to go with you. You can go on your own or join me another time.”
The peeved expression on Gönül’s face was accompanied by a pouting lower lip. “They won’t let me in if I go alone.”
On the one hand, I felt a pang of pity and swelling of gay pride; on the other, I was still extremely cross with the girl.
“Well then, we’ll go another day. My word is good.”
“ Aman, I know what you’re doing. You’re backtracking. What else do you expect from a faggot?”
Because she considered herself a full-fledged woman, the word “faggot” was, in her mind, a stinging insult.
Hüseyin lunged toward the back seat, grabbing her collar. “You better watch your mouth, mister!”
“Let her go,” I said. “I can defend myself.”
Collar duly released, Gönül recovered instantly. “All right, then, not tonight. But you did promise. I won’t forget. Let’s decide right now on the day.”
I wanted to tear her to pieces, but fought back the urge. “I’ll give you my number. Call me during the week, or come by the club. We’ll meet there.”
“But I don’t go to places like Taksim and Etiler. I’m usually in Aksaray, Bağcılar . . . sometimes over in Topkapı. You know that.”
“Fine. Here, take my number.”
“Put down your actual number. Don’t do what those men do and give me a fake one.”
I laughed silently. But I jotted down the number of the club.
As she took the piece of paper, she asked, “ Abla, what’s your name anyway?”
I simply shook my head.
Gönül got out in the middle of Aksaray.
As the car proceeded toward Unkapanı, I was subjected to Hüseyin’s reproachful glances in the rearview mirror. He was looking at me as though demanding an explanation for why I’d involved Gönül. I suddenly remembered to check the taxi meter. It must be costing me a fortune. The meter wasn’t on.
“The meter’s been turned off.”
“I never switched it on.”
“Why not? You’ve got to make a living.”
“After the way you’ve treated me I’m sorry I didn’t turn it on. But it’s too late now. Pay me what you think is fair. It’s not like you want my help. We’re not partners or anything. Detectives in films are real partners; they work together. We’re not like that.”
The suggestion I pay whatever seemed “fair” meant one of two things: pay nothing—which would involve some other form of compensation—or estimate the actual amount and pay a bit more.
“I was just getting into it, stupid enough to think we’d be like those movie detectives. You know, like that TV series with Bruce Willis and that woman who looks a bit like you. You’d do all the fancy talking, and I . . . well, whatever . . . but you’re too cold-hearted for that.”
The reference to Cybill Shepherd was totally inappropriate. But I decided to win him over nonetheless.
“Forgive me . . . I’m a little confused. I didn’t mean to insult you. I’m sorry if you’ve been offended in any way.”
“You think a quick apology will settle everything. Break my heart, insult me, then offer a halfhearted apology and everything will be fine again. Nice work.”
“So what do you expect me to do?”
The dog-leer was back. “Let me warm up that heart of yours.”
I groaned.“You’ll never learn, will you?”
We didn’t talk for the rest of the way home. As I got out of the taxi, I realized I didn’t have much cash on me.
“Would it be all right if I paid you tomorrow?”
“How can you even ask that? You don’t have to pay me at all. But if you offer me something cool to drink I won’t say no. It’d be nice of you.”
I slammed the door in his face.
If he’d been anyone else I’d have let him have it by now. But there was something touching about the boy. As angry as I got, he appealed to me in some way.
Whatever the
“I’m not stupid. What’s to not understand?”
“Well then, let me treat you to a meal, but don’t expect me to go with you. You can go on your own or join me another time.”
The peeved expression on Gönül’s face was accompanied by a pouting lower lip. “They won’t let me in if I go alone.”
On the one hand, I felt a pang of pity and swelling of gay pride; on the other, I was still extremely cross with the girl.
“Well then, we’ll go another day. My word is good.”
“ Aman, I know what you’re doing. You’re backtracking. What else do you expect from a faggot?”
Because she considered herself a full-fledged woman, the word “faggot” was, in her mind, a stinging insult.
Hüseyin lunged toward the back seat, grabbing her collar. “You better watch your mouth, mister!”
“Let her go,” I said. “I can defend myself.”
Collar duly released, Gönül recovered instantly. “All right, then, not tonight. But you did promise. I won’t forget. Let’s decide right now on the day.”
I wanted to tear her to pieces, but fought back the urge. “I’ll give you my number. Call me during the week, or come by the club. We’ll meet there.”
“But I don’t go to places like Taksim and Etiler. I’m usually in Aksaray, Bağcılar . . . sometimes over in Topkapı. You know that.”
“Fine. Here, take my number.”
“Put down your actual number. Don’t do what those men do and give me a fake one.”
I laughed silently. But I jotted down the number of the club.
As she took the piece of paper, she asked, “ Abla, what’s your name anyway?”
I simply shook my head.
Gönül got out in the middle of Aksaray.
As the car proceeded toward Unkapanı, I was subjected to Hüseyin’s reproachful glances in the rearview mirror. He was looking at me as though demanding an explanation for why I’d involved Gönül. I suddenly remembered to check the taxi meter. It must be costing me a fortune. The meter wasn’t on.
“The meter’s been turned off.”
“I never switched it on.”
“Why not? You’ve got to make a living.”
“After the way you’ve treated me I’m sorry I didn’t turn it on. But it’s too late now. Pay me what you think is fair. It’s not like you want my help. We’re not partners or anything. Detectives in films are real partners; they work together. We’re not like that.”
The suggestion I pay whatever seemed “fair” meant one of two things: pay nothing—which would involve some other form of compensation—or estimate the actual amount and pay a bit more.
“I was just getting into it, stupid enough to think we’d be like those movie detectives. You know, like that TV series with Bruce Willis and that woman who looks a bit like you. You’d do all the fancy talking, and I . . . well, whatever . . . but you’re too cold-hearted for that.”
The reference to Cybill Shepherd was totally inappropriate. But I decided to win him over nonetheless.
“Forgive me . . . I’m a little confused. I didn’t mean to insult you. I’m sorry if you’ve been offended in any way.”
“You think a quick apology will settle everything. Break my heart, insult me, then offer a halfhearted apology and everything will be fine again. Nice work.”
“So what do you expect me to do?”
The dog-leer was back. “Let me warm up that heart of yours.”
I groaned.“You’ll never learn, will you?”
We didn’t talk for the rest of the way home. As I got out of the taxi, I realized I didn’t have much cash on me.
“Would it be all right if I paid you tomorrow?”
“How can you even ask that? You don’t have to pay me at all. But if you offer me something cool to drink I won’t say no. It’d be nice of you.”
I slammed the door in his face.
If he’d been anyone else I’d have let him have it by now. But there was something touching about the boy. As angry as I got, he appealed to me in some way.
Whatever the
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