Page 72 of My Lucky Star
Chapter 25
Aria
APACKED AIRPORT BUStransported us from the plane to the airport building. I waded through a cloud of cigarette smoke lingering outside as I followed Emir and Cem through a set of glass doors and onto an escalator. My neck and shoulders still tingled from the massage, which wasn’t technically possible, hours later.
Not being able to talk freely for that many hours left me feeling lost and tense. Cem’s touch had helped, grounding me, momentarily pushing those questions out of my mind. But now my mind burned with all the things I wanted to talk to him about. How could I miss a person I stood right behind?
Once we made it through passport control, the brightly lit arrivals lounge greeted us with a buzz of chaos. Behind the wall of people holding signs with Turkish names, I glimpsed the glass doors leading outside. The exit, finally. It was early morning and still dark outside.
Cem and Emir headed to a short man with a grey uniform, impressive moustache, and a tall cart magically holding all our luggage. He led us outside to a sleek black Mercedes. He’d parked on the sidewalk, crowding the taxi stand with yellow cars trickling through. The driver packed our bags in the boot while Emir opened the back door for me, practically shoving me inside behind the tinted windows. He took the front seat while Cem joined me in the back. Not waiting for a gap in traffic, the driver muscled us off onto the road, somehow miraculously not hitting anything he seemed intent on hitting.
For the next half hour, I held onto my seat, fearing for my life, as the speedometer climbed to new heights. The abundantly lit Istanbul whizzed past as we sped along the motorway. Had it not been for the stupendous speed, the low rumble of Turkish between Emir and Cem might have put me to sleep. I hadn’t slept a wink on the second 12-hour flight and now it was supposed to be morning, the start of a new day. The sky brightened outside the window at a terrifying pace, turning into hazy peach, then pale blue. Turkish signs and advertisements flanked the road, stuck on every ramshackle building and overpass, constantly reminding me of my cluelessness.
“This is the Asian side,” Cem whispered in my ear as we reached a tall bridge covered in red lights.
“And now we’re in Europe,” he added as we made it to the other side.
My fourth continent within twenty-four hours, I thought, feeling light-headed.
He continued chatting in Turkish, as if I could understand, probably for the driver’s sake.
“Evet, askim,” I replied, like I’d heard Burcu say on TV. Yes, my love.
His eyes widened and I burst out laughing, breaking character.
“You’re playing a dangerous game.” His throaty whisper tickled my ear. “Now I have this dream of you actually speaking Turkish, and I expect you to make it true.”
Were there any limits to what he expected from life? I smiled to myself. One day, Cem would jump off a cliff expecting to fly, and grow wings in mid-air. I’d be there, expecting nothing and still stumbling on a rock somewhere.
The sign-filled suburbia turned into the inner city, with skyscrapers and other glass-covered, architectural showpieces rising against the morning sky. From afar, the Istanbul color palette seemed soft and muted, but as we got closer, the thousands of lights from the shops, apartments and streetlamps amplified, making the city glow like a Christmas ornament. I expected the lights to turn off as the daylight broke, but most of them remained.
I liked listening to the language with its almost Arabic consonants and funny vowels that rang in the back of your mouth, making me want to repeat them. I let my lips and tongue silently imitate the effect, hoping Cem wouldn’t notice.
At some point during the drive, the driver rolled down his window and lit a cigarette. Cem said something in a decisive tone, and he put it out, to my huge relief, as I sat behind him, directly in the smoke’s path. Although I suspected Cem had done it more for himself. I could see the way his hands twitched as he watched the cigarette dangling from the driver’s fingers.
I wondered if he could keep away from the smokes in Turkey. The whole country seemed to be smoking, non-stop. Half of the passengers lit up the second they got off the plane, and the other half after they’d unloaded from the airport bus, greatly easing the queues from thereon.
We got off the main motorway and travelled along the coast. Finally, the driver slowed down, turned onto a narrow driveway on the ocean side and we rolled through automatic gates.
I stared at Cem’s house – an imposing piece of modern architecture made of stone and glass, accentuated by lighting that seemed appropriate for a public monument, not a residential building. Decorative iron lanterns balanced the industrial-strength spotlights. Despite the hazy morning light already brightening the scene, every artificial light blazed in full wattage.
The driver opened Cem’s door, then mine. I stepped out on wobbly legs, staring at the brightly lit doorway.
“Hosgeldiniz.Welcome!” Cem smiled proudly, his hand pressing lightly on my back as he guided me to the door.
It magically opened as we got closer, and I only noticed the small apron-wearing woman behind it when she repeated Cem’s greeting. “Hosgeldiniz.”
I tried to respond, but she stepped to one side like a shadow, and Cem led me into a wide entrance hall. He took off his shoes and I followed his example.
“Here.” He handed me a pair of fluffy slippers and found a similar pair for himself and Emir. “Our mother will freak out if I let your feet get cold, especially when we tell her you have a sore throat.”
He led me to a vast lounge filled with velvety furniture in the shades of deep green, warm grey and brushed chrome, lit even more abundantly than the exterior. Emir trailed in behind us, directing the driver upstairs with the bags.
A sweet, orangey scent lingered in the air. Behind a wall of glass panels serving as the fourth wall, an Olympic-size swimming pool reflected the outdoor lights. I could hardly count the number of light sources in the room, the absolute opulence of it making my chest glow. Or maybe it was him.
