Free Farewell: A Mansion in Occupied Istanbul (Turkish Literature) by Ayse Kulin Page B

would have been the end of us all. What kind of a man are you, anyway? Just who do you take after?”
    Ahmet Re ş at got up and began pacing, his entire body shaking with frustration and rage. He had no idea what to do. Sitting opposite was an invalid swathed in blankets, a pathetic figure with waxen skin, bloodshot eyes, trembling hands. An invalid who continuously threatened the safety of his family . . . a madman… a fool! Re ş at Bey tossed his burning cigarette onto the glowing embers of the brazier. Stopping directly in front of Kemal, he waved his index finger in front of his nephew’s nose.
    “You’ve taken leave of your senses, Kemal. I understand now what I should have realized from the start. How can I be angry with you, when you’re clearly out of your mind? I intend to surrender you to the doctors. Psychiatrists. It isn’t your lungs, but your mind. The doctors will do whatever is necessary to prevent you from harming yourself, from harming us. I can’t protect you any longer.”
    “Uncle . . . please . . . listen . . .”
    “I’ve listened to you. Every time. And every time I forgave you. He’s learned his lesson, he’ll mend his ways , I told myself.”
    “Uncle . . .”
    “You sent an innocent to Karakol with absolutely no thought of the consequences. The girl is so intimidated, or so mesmerized, by your powers of persuasion that she is prepared to sacrifice everything for you. Just passing by! On her way to a tobacconist! Don’t you dare try to find consolation in the fact that Mehpare wasn’t injured, killed or arrested. You’ve made that innocent girl into a bald-faced liar.”
    “Uncle, punish me. Throw me out of the house. It’s true, I’ve gotten involved in a dangerous business. Yes, I’m working with Karakol. Because I believe that we need to do more to defend the homeland. I won’t sit idly by and watch things fall apart. If you want to banish me, so be it. But for the love of God, don’t punish an innocent girl, a bystander, someone who happened to be passing in front of Karakol when a bomb went off. I’m begging you. Mehpare was looking for Kerem Efendi’s tobacco shop. I gave her the directions myself. That’s her only crime.”
    “And what emboldened her to go out onto the streets alone?”
    “She wasn’t alone. Hüsnü Efendi went with her.”
    “When they got to her aunt’s house she released Hüsnü. She entered the street unaccompanied even by her aunt.”
    “For God’s sake, uncle, what of it? Women have begun to take up employment in this city. An organization under the patronage of Naciye Sultan herself even encourages them to do so. That is to say, even your conservative friends at the Palace no longer advocate imprisoning women in their homes. The Municipality of Istanbul has begun employing the wives of men killed on the battlefield, letting them earn their own bread. Are we, members of a free-thinking family, educated for generations at palace schools, really at odds on this? Mehpare walked down the street alone. So what!”
    A single look at his uncle’s face was enough to tell Kemal that his efforts to steer the discussion onto safer ground had been in vain. It was time for a direct appeal. Voice trembling with emotion, Kemal began: “I’m begging you uncle, don’t allow Mehpare to be sacrificed in the feud between grand-mother and my aunt. Believe me, she hasn’t done a thing. I’m expecting news within the week. I’ll leave the moment it arrives, and your troubles will be over.”
    The door was still shaking on its hinges as Ahmet Re ş at stormed down the hallway. Kemal listened to the sound of his uncle’s footsteps pounding up the staircase. A few moments later he heard the door to the upstairs bedroom slamming shut. He stood up, switched off the light and staggered to the door, guilty and afraid, barely able to keep to his feet, let alone climb three flights of stairs.
    But clutching the banister and pausing frequently to gather