Page 73 of My Lucky Star
I felt Cem’s hand on my waist, his closeness invading my senses, his presence stronger here than any other space we’d been before. He’d become one with the room, surrounding me like its walls, bathing me in its lights.
I was about to ask him if I could follow the driver to wherever he was taking my bag, when an older woman floated through one of the doorways, her dark hair in a loose bun and ample floral silk billowing around her arms. She headed straight to Emir, who kissed the back of her hand, then pressed it against his forehead. Cem was next, performing the same elaborate greeting. When she turned to me, every muscle in my body seized. Was I supposed to do the same? What if that greeting was only for family members? From the words they exchanged, I picked out one familiar one I’d heard on Cem’s show.Annem.Mother.
I shot Cem a quick smile, my heart hammering in my throat. He gave me a subtle nod, subtly lifting his hand. So, kissing then? Turning my deer-in-headlights smile at Cem’s mother, I followed the odd kissing ritual, getting a lungful of sweet, fruity perfume.
After the greeting, she held onto my shoulders and said something that sounded like a question. I smiled, trying to look like I understood, but thankfully Cem stepped in to speak for me. I recognized the name ofBurcu. He gestured at my throat, and I smiled apologetically as if to confirm the diagnosis.
As Cem’s mother focused back on her son, I pulled my phone out of my pocket. During the taxi ride, I’d figured out my New Zealand SIM card didn’t work over here, but if Cem’s house had wi-fi, I could at least get online and use a translator app – very discreetly, of course.
I clicked on the strongest network that popped up and handed my phone to Emir. He glanced at the empty field and quickly typed in the password. I was online. The app loaded, and as their mother turned back to me with raised eyebrows, her words appeared in English on my screen.
“Will you join us for breakfast?”
I dropped the phone lower to hide it from her view and shook my head. I was dying to find a bedroom, lock the door and collapse on any level surface. A floor would do.
Despite my gestures, she took me by the elbow and led me to a large dining room, chatting in a friendly tone. The long table was laden with food. Baskets of flatbread and colorful bowls filled with dips and sauces in a range of colors, and a large pan of something mushy and red that reminded me of Kerim’s incredible meal.
A burly man with a greying beard and sickly pallor sat at the end of the table, beckoning me closer with a scowl that immediately made me think of Emir. What was I supposed to do with his hand or other body parts?
Before I had time to escalate into a full-scale panic, Emir cut in front of me and kissed his father the same way he’d kissed his mother. Relieved for the demonstration, I crossed the floor like a newborn deer and greeted him the same way. He reeked of cigarettes.
Cem held back, hovering at the doorway. Everyone swiveled to stare at him. Silence filled the room, thick and fast, as the two men glared each other. Finally, Cem’s father nodded, and Cem crossed the floor. I watched their strained greeting, relieved when everyone started speaking again. It made my own silence seem less pronounced, as if I was merely within the listening phase of a conversation.
Cem’s father seated me right next to him. Cem rushed to take the chair on the other side as Emir seated himself across the table. How could I digest anything with eyes tracking my every move?
I felt Cem’s fingers curl around my left hand under the table. The small woman I’d met at the door appeared again, pouring tea into tulip-shaped glasses. Cem picked his glass up by the rim and raised it to his lips, taking a long sip.
I imitated his movements, filling my mouth with the strong, sweet and aromatic drink, a taste I’d forever associate with the man who held my hand. Ever since we’d left New Zealand, he hadn’t gone for more than a few minutes without touching me in some way.
Cem’s father began filling his plate and everyone else followed, serving me with dedication until my plate was bursting. With no hope of following the conversation, I decided I might as well eat my way through Turkey.
Chapter 26
Cem
I’D NEVER BEEN SO GRATEFULfor a language barrier. Even though my father thought the woman sitting next to me understood Turkish, he didn’t hold his tongue.
