Page 82 of My Turkish Fling
“That’s great,” I said, dragging myself up the high road by my bootstraps. “But it seems Josh has found it stressful to keep up with his new friends. Sounds like they’re expecting the latest gear, expensive parties, and gifts. If you’re having to tighten the belt, do you want him hanging out with these kids?”
“I’m sure it’s not that bad—”
“And he misses his friends down here. He wants to stay and finish the school year in Napier.”
“But… We agreed on Auckland Grammar. It’s the best in the country.”
“Sure. But, what if it’s not best forhim?”
There.I’d made my argument. My heart pounded like after a half-hour Pilates session. I wanted to win this argument, yet I could barely take the pain that came with it.
After a long silence, Shaun spoke. The bullishness had seeped out of his voice. “So, you’d have him on school terms and…”
“And you could take him over the holidays. Or every other holiday, so that the boys can see each other here over some breaks. Whatever works best. Sounds like Alex is doing well?”
“He’s great. He’s loving the classes. They have so many extra-curriculars to choose from. He’s doing game design, animation, lots of things. I think he wants to play ice hockey. Can’t do that in Napier.”
“No, he can’t,” I conceded. I didn’t expect to get my firstborn to move back to the middle of nowhere. He was more like Shaun, whothrived in the city. “I’m glad he’s settled in so well. And believe me, this is not for me. I’m only suggesting it because I think it might be best for Josh.”
Shaun’s harrumph suggested he thought I was full of crap. “Obviously, I need to discuss this with Kelly, but if Josh is also keen to stay there, maybe we can work something out.”
His words punched me in the heart. “Thank you,” I choked. “I’ll look into the details and let you know.”
I ended the call, feeling the weight of the world on my shoulders. This is what it was to be a mother. It was time to send flighty dreams to the back of the queue and accept my lot.
Chapter 34
Emir
I scooped the last bit of horse poop off the stables floor and threw it on the wheelbarrow, leaning on my shovel. Molly nudged my shoulder and circled me, and I rubbed her mane. She was acting a lot more affectionately. Her eye looked better. Maybe the pain had made her skittish. I could certainly understand that as I rolled back my shoulders and raised my eyebrows, noting the absence of pain. It was amazing what fresh air and peace and quiet could do to your body. As well as falling in love, added a whispering voice inside me. Even if the last one would bring more pain down the road. I’d exchange the tension headache for a heartache.
I never thought I’d feel so emotional about scooping up excrement, but it was my last day on the farm. The last workday before the party. Before all the people arrived and my inner turmoilwas drowned by the noise and chaos of celebration. I couldn’t have been less of a party person if I’d tried, but I didn’t want to ruin it for everyone else.
The week had been swallowed by responsibilities. My parents had returned from their trip, forcing me to rent a car and drive them around Napier, as well as hang around Aria’s parents’ place to translate for them, leaving out some of the stupid things they said to keep the peace. It was the least I could do for my brother. So far, everyone seemed to get along. My parents were sufficiently in love with New Zealand scenery and possessed enough average quality photos of mountains and lakes to torture our relatives back in Istanbul for years to come.
I’d slept three agonizing nights in Aria’s parents’ guest room, my legs hanging off the end of a short mattress, before I’d laid out my excuses for why I needed to spend the last day and night on Janie’s farm. She needed help with the farm chores. The trellis on the deck was still unfinished (it wasn’t) and I was tall enough to reach for things from the top of the cabinets, saving valuable time. I don’t know if they’d bought any of my excuses, but Mom understood the pain of sleeping poorly, so she let me go and Aria’s mom gave me a ride, dropping me off on her way to work.
Janie had been gone most of the day yesterday, driving Josh to visit the school he would transfer to, buying a new uniform and then reuniting him with his best friend. She’d given me an update late at night over the phone, sounding both happy and sad. I lay in bed for a long time after that, aching from the distance between us and the terrible mattress underneath me, wondering how badly itwould hurt once we were on opposite sides of the world. Finally, the cooler night air lulled me to sleep, and I dreamed of us, together.
It had to be possible, I told myself as I dumped the pile of horse manure on a compost heap. But I had to talk to her, in private, before the party, and time was running out.
I glanced up at the house, watching for signs of life. It was 9:30 a.m. Janie must have been up already. I’d stopped at the stables to check on Molly—a habit I couldn’t shake. And seeing her floor hadn’t been cleaned, I’d got to work, giving myself a moment to think.
The house seemed quiet, but I noticed movement inside the greenhouse. A flash of peachy orange. I walked closer until I caught her scooting between the strawberry plants, slipping ripe fruit into the pockets of her bathrobe. Seeing her in that robe reminded me of the moment in the forest and I froze, waiting for her to notice me. She looked so sad. Defeated.
This was not how I wanted to leave her. I had to go away, but I needed us to have hope. I brushed wayward bits of straw and hay off my slacks and shook my shirt. I needed some farm appropriate clothes. I’d already destroyed two shirts and one pair of pants.
She jumped to her feet, letting out a shriek as she saw me. “Emir! Oh my God, you scared me!”
“I’m sorry,” I took a tentative step closer. “Are you okay?”
She stared at me, breathing heavily, her hand resting on her rising and falling chest. “I don’t know.” For a moment, her gaze flicked from the strawberries to her bare feet, then back to me. “I mean, I’ll have to be.”
The hot and humid greenhouse air enveloped us into its suffocating cloud. Everything smelled of strawberry. I picked off one particularly red and ripe one, offering it to her. “Your pockets aren’t big enough.”
I’d taken on watering the plants twice daily but had missed the last couple of days. The soil looked dry.
Janie’s laugh was a little wobbly and nervous. “I forgot to bring a container.” She looked at her feet again. “I forgot to wear shoes.”
