“She has no voice?” she says.
“Yes, she has a voice. But she doesn’t want to speak, not to me anyway. And she understands Turkish,” he adds.
“I see,” says Fatma.
“She seems to be eager to get rid of me,” Orhan says, exhaling a cloud of smoke through his nostrils.
“Yes, but will she sign the papers?”
“I think I’ve managed to entice her,” he says.
“Entice her? Oh-ho! Because you have so much experience enticing women,” she teases him.
“I’ve enticed plenty of women,” he lies.
“Even so, you need to get that signature and hurry back.”
“I have a feeling that getting the signature won’t be a problem,” he says. “But getting her to reveal her connection to Dede is another matter.”
“Who cares what her connection is?”
“I care. Don’t you want to know who she is?”
“She’s probably some tart from his past,” says Fatma.
“Doubtful,” says Orhan.
“Some things are better left alone.”
“I want to know why he did it.”
“This is no time for fairy tales and interviews. You’ve got bigger problems waiting for you here.”
“What are you talking about?” Orhan feels a lump forming in his throat.
“Your father is talking nonsense again. Says he’s going to contest the will. He even mentioned the name of that lawyer, Hakan Celik.”
“That piranha? Tell him no. I need more time. I just got here.”
“This is not just about the house. You know that.”
Mustafa would forcibly take the approval Dede would never give him. “I’ve poured my entire life into this company,” he says. “All my time and attention, for years.”
“By law, he is the first heir,” continues Fatma. “The one who should inherit the business.”
“He hasn’t worked a day in his life,” shouts Orhan.
“Nor will he. I imagine that will be your job.”
“Did you show him Dede’s letter? Did he read it?”
“Not yet, but I don’t think it would change much. He’s hurt. Has a right to be. Your dede wasn’t very kind to him growing up.”
“Oh, please,” says Orhan. “At least Dede didn’t beat him like he beat me.”
He drags at his cigarette and tries to think strategically. His body aches of hunger and sleep deprivation. There will be no stopping his father once he has Celik working for him. If he wrestles the company away from Orhan, he’ll sell everything Dede built and pocket it. No one knew this better than Dede. It’s why he circumvented Mustafa and left everything, or almost everything, to Orhan. He has to show everyone that he has the situation under control. He has to get the old woman to give the house back immediately.
“Shit,” he says. “You have to talk to him. Tell him I can fix everything. Everything will go back to the way it was before.”
“You tell him,” Auntie Fatma says.
“He hates me. You know that.”
“He’s angry and bitter, but he’s not a bad man. And he’s still your father.”
“My father who wants to sue me,” says Orhan. “Why are you always protecting him? Why can’t you protect me for once?”
The question is a loaded one. Orhan was seven when the beatings began.
Auntie Fatma is silent for once.
“I just need more time,” he continues. “Promise me you’ll talk to him.”
“I’ll talk to him,” she says finally, “but you know what happened when they started selling minds in the market?”
“What are you talking about?” asks Orhan.
“There were no sales. Everyone liked his own mind.”
CHAPTER 15
Ani
THE ARARAT HOME is pressed under the thick gray fog of sleep, the day still tucked beneath tired lids, when Ani slips inside Seda’s room, trailing the faint scent of gardenias along with her. Even with her eyes shut, Seda can sense her niece standing above her bed. Seda feels the blanket lifting but does not stir. Then Ani does something she hasn’t done in a very long time: she climbs into Seda’s bed, the way she used to when she was little, and wraps her arm around Seda’s body, cradling it with her own.
“Meza,” she whispers. Short for mezmama, or grandmother, it is what Seda called her own grandmother a hundred years ago in Karod.
Seda keeps her eyes shut and inhales the familiar spirit trapped in Ani’s breath. When her niece was little, Seda used to place her face beneath Ani’s sleeping head and inhale the oxygen leaving her nostrils. The little gust of expelled breath filled her with joy. It is the only thing she’s ever taken from her niece. Ani has lost so much already. Bedros’s children were conceived and born in loss. Ani (short for Anush) and Aram, both named for his dead siblings. What right did Seda have to take anything from them? Even their names were not their own.