Silent House

CONTENTS
 

D
inner is nearly ready, Madam,” I said. “Please come to the table.”

She said nothing, just stood there, planted on her cane. I went over, took her by the arm, and brought her to the table. She just muttered a little. I went down to the kitchen, got her tray, and put it in front of her. She looked at it but didn’t touch the food. I got out her napkin, stretched it out under her huge ears, and knotted it.

“Well, what did you make tonight?” she said. “Let’s see what you put together.”

“Baked eggplant,” I said. “You requested it yesterday, right?”

She looked at me.

I slid the plate in front of her. She pushed the food around with her fork, complaining to herself. After picking at it a little, she began to eat.

“Madam, don’t forget your salad,” I said before going inside and sitting down to my own eggplant.

A little later, she called out, “Salt. Recep, where’s the salt?” I went back out and saw it was right in front of her.

“Here it is!”

“Well, this is a new one,” she said. “Why do you go inside when I’m eating?”

I didn’t answer.

“They’re coming tomorrow, aren’t they?”

“They’re coming, Madam, they’re coming,” I said. “Weren’t you going to put some salt on that?”

“You mind your own business!” she said. “Are they coming?”

“Tomorrow afternoon,” I said. “They called, you know.”

“What else have you got?”

I took the uneaten eggplant back, ladled a good portion of beans onto a fresh plate, and brought it out to her. When she’d lost interest in the beans and started stirring them around, I returned to the kitchen and sat down to resume my supper. A little later she called out again, this time for pepper, but I pretended not to hear her. When she cried
Fruit!
I went in and pushed the fruit bowl in front of her. Her thin, bony hand began to wander over the fruit like a drowsy spider. Finally it stopped.

“All rotten! Where’d you find these? Lying on the ground under the trees?”

“They’re not rotten, Madam,” I said. “They’re just ripe. These are the best peaches. I got them from the fruit seller. You know there are no peach trees around here anymore.”

Pretending she hadn’t heard me she chose one of the peaches. I went inside and was just finishing my beans when she shouted, “Untie me! Recep, where are you? Let me out of this!”

I ran in and as I undid her napkin I saw that she had left half the peach.

“Let me at least give you some apricots, Madam. Otherwise you’ll wake me up in the middle of the night and tell me you’re hungry.”

“I’ve never been so hungry that I’ve had to eat things that have fallen off the trees, thank you.”

As she wiped her mouth she wrinkled her face, then pretended to pray for a while before getting up.

“Take me upstairs!”

She leaned on me and we made our way, stopping on the ninth step to catch our breath.

“Have you made up their rooms?” she said, gasping.

“I made them up.”

“Okay, then let’s go,” she said, leaning on me all the more.

We continued to the top step. “Eighteen, nineteen, thank God,” she said, and went into her room.

“Let’s turn on your light,” I said. “I am going to be at the movies.”

“The movies!” she said. “A grown man. Well, don’t stay out late.”

I went down, finished my beans, and washed the dishes. I already had my tie on under my apron. So I had only to get my jacket, check for my wallet, and be gone.

The wind blew cool from the sea, and it was pleasant. The leaves of the fig tree were rustling. I shut the garden gate and walked down toward the beach. Where our garden wall ended, the pavement and the new concrete houses began. They were on their balconies, in their little narrow gardens, watching, families listening to the news on TV, the women at their charcoal grills. They didn’t see me. Meat on the grills and smoke. Families, lives; I wonder what it’s like. When winter comes, though, there’ll be nobody around. Then I’ll be frightened just to hear my own footsteps in the empty streets. I felt myself shivering and put on my jacket and turned the corner.

It was funny to think how they all sat down to eat their dinner and watch TV at the same time! As I was walking around in the back streets, a car pulled up at the end of one of those that opened onto the square, and a tired husband back from Istanbul got out. He went into the house with his bag, looking upset to be getting home so late for his dinner in front of the television. When I got down to the shore again, I heard Ismail’s voice: “National lottery, six days left!”

He didn’t see me; I didn’t say anything either. He was bobbing up and down as he walked among the tables in the restaurant. One table called him over, and he went, bending down to present a fistful of lottery tickets to a girl in a white dress with a ribbon in her hair. The girl picked carefully as her mother and father smiled with pleasure. I
turned away, saying I was not going to look anymore. If I had called out, if Ismail had seen me, he would have quickly limped over to me. He would have said, Brother, why don’t you ever stop by? Your house is so far away, Ismail, I would have said, and it’s up high on the hill. Yes, you’re right, he would have said. When Doğan Bey gave us that money, brother, if I had bought property here instead of on the hill, oh Recep, if I had bought on the shore instead of up there because it was near the train station, I’d be a millionaire, he would have said, always in those words. His pretty wife would say nothing, only look at you. Why should I go? True, sometimes I want to, sometimes on winter nights when I have no one to talk to, I feel the urge and I do go, but it’s always the same words.