Seda immediately spreads her hands over the documents. “None of your business,” she says.
“Those look like legal papers,” says Betty. “Does Ms. Ani know you’re signing those?”
“Don’t be a busybody,” Seda snaps.
“It’s not really right to ask little old ladies to be signing things without legal counsel, is it?” Betty says to Orhan, ignoring Seda.
“She doesn’t need legal counsel,” says Orhan.
“Last I checked, I’m an adult,” says Seda. “I can sign whatever I damn well please.”
“It’s only a small matter,” Orhan says.
“Then you won’t mind if she sleeps on it,” says Betty.
“I don’t need to sleep on it,” says Seda.
“I think you should leave now,” Betty says, grabbing the documents from Seda’s lap. “Visiting hours are over.”
Orhan rises to his full height, still staring into the orderly’s dark eyes. “You don’t understand,” he says.
“All the same, visiting hours are over,” she says, handing him his documents. “You’re gonna have to come back tomorrow.”
Seda, still holding the pen, stares at the documents in the young man’s hands. Without removing his eyes from the orderly, Orhan bends his lanky frame down to Seda’s ear.
“Ak gün a?art?r, kara gün karart?r.” It is a Turkish proverb spoken in the tongue of her forgotten past. A white day sheds light; a dark day sheds darkness.
“The days are white now, Mrs. Melkonian,” he says in English. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” And she swears she can see the thin white sheet that hangs between her past and his future go flapping in the wind.
Before Seda can say another word, he is gone and Betty is pushing her chair again.
“How dare you?”
“How dare I what?” says Betty, casually.
“You know what!”
“I’m only looking out for you, Ms. Seda.”
“I don’t need you to look out for me. I’m perfectly capable of looking out for myself.”
“Is that right?” asks Betty.
“Yes, that’s right.”
“I seen this TV show last week, where some con man romanced this widow and swindled her out of her savings.”
“Did I look like I was being romanced to you?”
“You know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t know what you mean.”
“All the same, you should tell Ms. Ani about whatever this is.”
“This has nothing to do with Ani.” Seda can feel her face burning and her voice rising. “What I tell and don’t tell my niece is none of your business.”
“Whatever,” says Betty, stopping in front of Seda’s doorway.
“No, not whatever. You are an orderly,” Seda says, pointing her finger. “Your job is to bring me my food and pills. Bathe me. Not to give me legal advice.”
“Is that so?”
“That’s so. When I need help, I’ll ask for it. Otherwise, leave me alone.”
“Fine,” says Betty, closing the door behind her.
Good, let her leave, Seda thinks. A closed door is a rare blessing around here. Tomorrow. All this will be over tomorrow. The young man will come back and get what he needs, then go back to Turkey before Ani or anyone else notices him.
It’s as if Kemal put every painful memory in the shape of that ancient house, wrapped it like a Christmas present, and forced his grandson to deliver the gift. Well, she would return that thing right back to where it came from.
PART II
1915
CHAPTER 6
Normal
LUCINE WAKES UP as she always does, to the slow rhythmic sounds of Anush’s ivory comb. The gentle scrape and pull is her own private rooster call. She opens her eyes to the thousands of tiny particles that dance in the light from their only window. They dodge and duck and swirl around to the music of her older sister’s comb.
Anush is seated in her usual place, before the oval mirror. She wears an emerald silk dress with gold filament at the neck and wrists, an Easter present from their parents. Her black hair cascades across her shoulders, a dark, wide cloak of vanity.
“Will you help me with the braid?” Anush asks.
Ordinarily Lucine would groan and refuse, but now that the world is changed, she cannot bring herself to decline. She slips into her own dress, which is cinched at the waist and mercifully nothing like the emerald silk of her sister’s.
“Sit down. It’s easier that way,” Lucine says.