Free Honor (9781101606148) by Elif Shafak

later!
    Throughout the entire class, I was worried sick the teacher would ask me something. I would become the butt of jokes for ever. Fortunately, there were no questions. As soon as the torture was over, I grabbed my rucksack and headed to the door. I decided to blow off the rest of my classes and go home early for once.
    *
    It was three thirty when I reached our house and rang the bell. As I waited for the door to open, my eyes slid to the name beside the doorbell:
    ADEM TOPRAK
    My sister, Esma, had written this in her flowery handwriting. Against her better judgement. ‘We live here as well,’ she grumbled. ‘Why write only Dad’s name?’
    Esma was a frail girl but she always expressed herself with giant ideas: equal opportunity, social justice, women’s rights . . . My friends thought she was either barmy or a Communist. If it were up to her she would have written instead:
    THE TOPRAK FAMILY
    Or else,
    ADEM, PEMBE, ISKENDER, ESMA, YUNUS & THE GOLDFISH
    Either way I didn’t give a toss. I, myself, would have left the nameplate anonymous. That would have been more decent, more straightforward. It would be my way of saying nobody lived here. Not really. We didn’t live in this flat, only sojourned. Home to us was no different than a one-star hotel where Mum washed the bed sheets instead of maids and where every morning the breakfast would be the same: white cheese, black olives, tea in small glasses – never with milk.
    Arshad might some day play in League Division One, for all I knew. He could fill his pockets with pictures of the Queen and his car with gorgeous birds, but people like us would always be outsiders. We Topraks were only passers-by in this city – a half-Turkish, half-Kurdish family in the wrong end of London.
    I rang the bell again. Not a peep. Where on earth was Mum? She couldn’t be at the Crystal Scissors. She had quit her job days ago. I was the head of the family since Dad had gone off and I didn’t want her to work any more. She cried a lot but didn’t resist. She knew I had my reasons. People were gossiping. Where there’s smoke, there’s fire. So I told her to stay home. I had to put out the flames.
    Nobody at school was aware of what was going on. And I wanted it to stay that way. School was school, home was home. Katie didn’t know a thing either. Your girlfriend was your girl, your family was your family. Certain things had to be kept separate. Like water and oil.
    It occurred to me that Mum might have gone to get the shopping or something. I had to have a word with her about that too. I took out my key, put it in the keyhole and turned it back and forth, but it didn’t budge. The door was bolted. Suddenly I heard footsteps down the corridor.
    â€˜Who is it?’ came my mother’s voice.
    â€˜It’s mm . . . me,
MM . . . Mum.’
    â€˜Iskender, is it you?’
    There was a trace of panic in her voice, as if something bad were about to happen. I heard a whisper, low and rapid, and I knew it wasn’t my mother. My heart started to pound and I felt the air go out of me. I could neither move forward nor go backward, so I kept struggling with the key. This went on for another minute, maybe more, then the door opened.
    My mother stood blocking the entrance. Her lips were curved up in a smile, but her eyes were oddly sharp. I noticed a strand of hair had come out of her ponytail and one of the buttons in her white blouse was in the wrong hole.
    â€˜Iskender, my son,’ she said. ‘You are home.’
    I wondered what surprised her more – that I was home almost three hours early or that I was her son.
    â€˜Are you all right?’ my mother asked. ‘You don’t seem well, my sultan.’
    Don’t call me that, I wanted to say. Don’t call me anything. Instead I took off my shoes and pushed past, almost knocking her over. I went straight to my room,