Page 67 of Love or Your Money Back

Ahmet bought both of us every piece of all-terrain gear imaginable, including waterproof socks. But we were still both shivering by the time we got back to the hotel, laughing our heads off. Well, I was laughing anyway. Ahmet was asking about laundry services and getting our clothes dry, which was helpful.

Ahmet did an excellent job of the laundry. He took hours. I eventually found him bare-chested in the laundry room with another bare-chested man (a cyclist) having a deep and meaningful conversation (presumably about cycling or hiking or both). Ahmet clearly felt guilty that he’d been away from me too long, but I told him, ‘Honestly Ahmet, you should never feel guilty about doing the laundry.’

SEPARATE ROOMS, Freddy. Ahmet had already arranged this, being the perfect gentleman that he is. But I would have requested it because I listened to you and your whole exclusive thing.

This was the first long weekend I’ve ever spent away from the team, and I have you to thank for it. You were right about systems and processes and designated team roles and delegating. It was all sorely needed, and I appreciate the changes you’ve made. Although I still think the timesheets are a bit 1984. I’ll argue with you about that when I see you in person.

Do you know the best thing about the weekend? I barely thought about Chris at all. You might not think this is a big deal, Freddy, but it is. I always think about Chris when I go away because we used to travel together a lot. But I missed you more than I missed Chris. Now THAT’S progress!

CHAPTER47

Monday 1st August

I met Ahmet’s mother for the first time this weekend. Viola was stern and outspoken, so we got on like a house on fire. By the end of our lunch, we were both crying with laughter at photos of eight-year-old Ahmet playing a little grand piano in a tweedy suit.

Viola has invited me back to see more photos of Ahmet as a teenager. Apparently, he and his best friend David both had absurdly long hair and were in a band together. She was ‘so worried Ahmet would become a homosexual’ and made Ahmet cut his hair short ‘like a real man’.

I did try to avail Viola of her prejudices. ‘Heterosexual men can have long hair,’ I told her. ‘And anyway, the current wisdom is that people are born gay. It’s not something that can be changed. It’s something to be accepted.’

Viola told me that if Ahmet had been born gay, she would have disowned him. Which was pretty shocking. Ahmet said it was best not to talk about culture with his mother. Or religion or politics.

‘Let’s talk about the future instead, then,’ Viola said. ‘Katerina, would you like to see the family engagement ring?’

Without waiting for an answer, she moved a giant oil painting of herself from the wall, revealing an old-fashioned dial safe. Inside the safe were bars of gold, strings of pearls and the biggest, gaudiest engagement ring I’ve ever seen. A rainbow of red, green, amber and blue jewels on one enormous, ornate gold band.

Viola slid the ring on my finger ‘just to try’ and declared it ‘a perfect fit’, even though it rolled around like a boat on the water.

When we left, I asked Ahmet if he minded his mother’s casual racism, sexism and homophobia.

‘You can’t choose your family,’ said Ahmet. ‘She’s not going to change. Any more than someone who is gay can change.’ Then he kissed me on the cheek and said, ‘Thank you for running that gauntlet. She likes you. This is good news.’

I felt so accepted. So loved. Chris took me to see his family once, after two years of dating. His mother hated me. She was horrified when I told her about my MS and wondered, out loud, that this might be a terrible stressful burden on her little boy. His father was a little better. He barely said a word and ignored me completely.

This weekend, I had a mother waving an engagement ring in my face. What a turnaround!

Do you know something, Freddy? Being with Chris skewed my opinion of myself. When packaged, placed and promoted correctly, Icanbe the sort of girl people want to marry. Even with MS. The Cinderella fireworks over Disney Castle happy ending isn’t for me. I’m not marrying my first love. But I can have a better husband than I ever dreamed possible. And that’s a fairy-tale ending of sorts.

Monday 8th August

After meeting Ahmet’s mother, it seemed only right that Ahmet met my closest relatives, Aunt Caro and Aunty Sylvia. So we visited Aunt Caro’s minimalist, metal box home this weekend, which has now been de-minimalised by Aunty Sylvia’s porcelain dolls, brass bells and ornamental plates.

Aunt Caro was kind and welcoming as always, giving me a squashy hug and Ahmet a long, formal handshake. Aunty Sylvia grilled Ahmet about his career, aspirations, health and ability to have children.

Amazingly, Ahmet didn’t run screaming, so I now feel very secure in our relationship. Ahmet didn’t flinch at the mention of marriage, either. Although he did say his mother would take charge of any wedding buffet and had a liberal hand with culinary rose water.

‘Be careful there,’ said Aunty Sylvia. ‘Katerina hatesrosefragrance.’

I corrected her. It’s only when Aunty Sylvia coversherselfin rose fragrance that I object. I don’t mind it in food. Turkish delight is one of my favourite sweets.

Monday 15th August

Bit of an odd conversation with Ahmet at the weekend. We went out for a locally sourced meal together, and Ahmet asked what living arrangements would look like if we got married.

At first, I was quietly delighted. A few weeks ago, Ahmet’s mother stuffed an engagement ring on my finger. And now Ahmet starts talking about living together after we’re married. Things are looking serious!

But then Ahmet said, ‘I mean, would we move in together? Or would we live apart in our separate houses and have a very modern marriage?

That last comment threw me a little.

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