Last Train to Istanbul (29 page)

As they approached Kızılay, Dr. Sahir suggested having something warm to drink.

“It’s so cold; you’ll feel better with something warm inside you. How about some hot chocolate?”

“That’s fine by me.”

As soon as she agreed, Sabiha regretted it. They walked into an empty café and sat opposite each other at a small round table by the window. Sabiha removed her gloves and the shawl from around her head. Dr. Sahir called out to the waiter standing behind the glass display counter.

“Two hot chocolates, please.”

Sabiha’s hands had turned blue with the cold. Dr. Sahir took them in his and started rubbing them. Sabiha blushed, but didn’t withdraw them.

“Do you know, I feel strange sitting here with you instead of in your consulting room,” she said quietly, so as not to be heard by the waiter.

“Why do you feel strange?”

“I don’t know. It’s odd.”

“Why?”

“I can’t think of anything to say…”

“In that case, why don’t we talk about the things we discuss in our sessions?”

“Wouldn’t that be odd too?”

“Why should it?”

“Well, for a start, in your consulting room, I know I’m paying you for your time.”

“Since we’re here, why don’t you try speaking to me as a friend? Shouldn’t we have built up a friendship after all this time?”

“But how can I repay you?”

“The pleasure of your company is payment enough.”

“Is being with me a pleasure, Doctor?”

“Absolutely. Just looking at you is a pleasure. You’re a very beautiful woman.”

“But being with me might not be as pleasurable as looking at me. I’m a very complicated person. I’m always nervous and troubled. Maybe that’s why I bore my husband, and come to think of it, even my daughter.”

“Is your daughter bored with you?”

“Well, let’s just say she doesn’t like being with me. You might remember me telling you, she spends all of her time with my parents since they came to stay. She seems to be closer to them.”

“Grandparents have a very special place in children’s lives. They’re a constant source of love and tolerance…”

“No, no, she was distant toward me even before they came. Hülya is an odd child.”

“She’s your one and only child?”

“Yes.”

“In other words she’s spoiled, jealous, and stubborn.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Because, Sabiha Hanım, you appear to have certain preconceived ideas about first children.”

“Really?” said Sabiha, picking up one of the cups. She sprinkled some sugar on it and took a sip. “Ohhh! This is great.”

“The chocolate, or recognizing the truth?”

“I have a feeling that you don’t have a very good impression of me. You think of me as a capricious and fussy woman, don’t you?”

“No, not at all. I regard you as a very emotional and sensitive woman. That’s exactly why the sort of mischievousness and jealousy most children feel toward their younger siblings appears to have left such a deep impression on you. In other words, you’re neither capricious nor fussy; you’re sensitive and delicate.”

Sabiha took another sip of the chocolate that she held between her trembling hands.

“You know, Sabiha Hanım, I believe that you’re carrying a lot of excess baggage. It’s possible at times you feel your daughter could be sharing similar feelings toward you. But in fact, there is no such thing at all. Your past experiences with your sister are all part of life’s rich pattern. What you experienced in your childhood is perfectly normal.”

“I think I’ve added too much sugar.”

“Sabiha, I hope you don’t mind my being so familiar, but don’t run away. You don’t only have to face the truth in my consulting room, you know…”

“What do you mean?”

“In my opinion, your problem is with your daughter, not your sister.”

“If you’ve finished your chocolate, maybe we should leave,” said Sabiha.

Dr. Sahir turned around and called the waiter. He pulled out Sabiha’s chair for her, she put on her shawl and gloves, and they left. The blizzard had calmed down.

“I suggest you hold onto my arm again,” said Dr. Sahir. “It’s very slippery.”

“Thank you. I think we should separate at the next corner. From there I can go to my home and you to yours.”

“I’d be happier walking you home. Maybe when we get there, you can invite me in for something warm.”

“My parents and Hülya are there.”

“How nice. In that case I might even meet Hülya too.”

They walked silently for a while, and then Sabiha stopped suddenly and, looking straight into Dr. Sahir’s eyes, asked, “Do you think I treat my daughter badly?”

“Do you?”

“No, but you give me the impression you think I do.”

“I’ve never seen you with your daughter but I believe I can read what’s in your heart. Because you don’t like your childhood, you appear to blame your daughter, who represents all little girls, and as a result you’re depriving her of your love.”

Tears appeared in Sabiha’s eyes.

“I don’t treat her badly.”

“I’m sure.”

“Why?”

“Because you…”

“Because I what?”

“Because you’re magnificent. You’re far too gentle to hurt anyone.”

“Do you really mean that? Are you telling me the truth?”

“Yes, Sabiha, I am.”

“Tell me, Doctor, will I ever be able to rid myself of all these regrets that torment me so?”

“Of course you will.”

“When will I?”

“Sabiha, I want to ask you something. Would you come with me to my consulting room right now?”

“Now?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, I will.”

“You’re sure you want to?”

“Yes, I am.”

They retraced their steps as far as Kızılay, where they crossed the road and walked for a while along Kazım Özalp Street, then turned right into Karanfil Street. Not a word was spoken. It was as if they both feared that even a single word would spoil the magic of this moment that held separate meanings for each of them. It had stopped snowing for a while, but now it had started again.

Sahir opened the gate of the building where his consulting room was. He made way for Sabiha to enter. When he couldn’t switch on the lights by the stairs, he took out a box of matches, struck one, and held it in front of them.

“It seems the bulb has gone. Give me your hand, Sabiha.”

They walked up the stairs hand in hand. Sahir struck another match in front of his flat to open the door. They were now inside. Sahir switched on the light in the hall. In the harsh glare of the light, they both looked rather funny, like figures in a surrealist painting, with their hair and coats covered in snow. Sabiha shook the snow off herself and removed her shawl, coat, and gloves. Sahir went into his consulting room and switched on the lamp on his desk.

“Please come in, Sabiha Hanım.” Sabiha walked in. “Please sit down.”

Sabiha sat in her usual comfortable chair and stretched out her legs on the footstool.

“Is there no music?”

“Sure. What would you like to listen to?”

“You choose something.”

“You like piano, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Give me a minute. I’ll find you some Chopin.”

Sabiha closed her eyes and stretched out in the armchair. In a few minutes, she could hear a familiar Chopin polonaise.

“You seem to have a great record collection.”

“It stems from my years as a student in Vienna.”

“Do you play music for all your patients?”

“Yes, if they wish. Music can be very relaxing. What a pity that not too many people in this city like classical music.”

They didn’t speak for a while, until Sahir said, “So, I’m all ears.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“Whatever you wish.”

“I’d love to just listen to this music.”

“No cheating. If you can’t decide what to talk about, let me guide you. We were talking about your daughter earlier. Why don’t we take it from there?”

“No, I don’t want that.”

“Why not?”

“I just don’t.”

“Why do you always avoid this subject? There’s something bothering you about your daughter.”

“Who says so?”

“I do, as your doctor, that is. Sabiha, you can tell me everything. I promise not to judge you whatever you say. You know that.”

“That’s not why I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I urge you to do so, Sabiha. Didn’t you tell me earlier that you wanted to rid yourself of this torment? Here’s your chance.”

“Please come close to me.”

Sahir got up from behind his desk, walked over to Sabiha, and sat on the footstool where she rested her feet.

“Sabiha, let’s get this over with tonight. Let’s put an end to it, let’s confront whatever—”

He couldn’t finish his sentence. Sabiha sat upright, leaned toward him, and put her fingers on his lips.

“Please don’t speak. Don’t say another word. Yes, let’s face this tonight.”

For a moment they looked into each other’s eyes. Sahir pretended not to see the look of desolation in her eyes.

“OK, then, I’m ready.”

Suddenly Sabiha sat up, as if she had been scalded.

“No, no, I can’t do it. I’m not ready,” she said, standing up. “Let’s go,” she said coldly.

“Why are you so angry?”

When Sabiha didn’t answer, Sahir walked to the hall stand to get her coat, putting it around her shoulders. Sabiha slowly turned to face him. Her face was so close that he could smell the chocolate on her breath. They stood silently in the dim light. Sahir suddenly pulled her toward him and kissed her warm lips. For a split second, Sabiha felt as if she might faint. She was shaking at the knees. She let him kiss her face, neck, and lips over and over again. For a while they wrestled together passionately, then Sabiha suddenly pulled herself back.

“No…please, don’t. We shouldn’t.”

“Are you teasing me?”

“I don’t understand.”

“I don’t think you really know what you want, Sabiha!”

“On the contrary, I think you don’t know what you want. You sweet-talk me into coming here. You play music for me, and worst of all you do all this when you know very well that I’m a woman neglected by her husband. I’m an unhappy woman and you know I have a soft spot for you. Then…you try to disgrace me by…”

“Sabiha! What are you saying?”

“You…You’re trying to degrade me…”

“I always play music for you because it relaxes you. You know that. I can assure you that I felt you were ready to face the facts. There are very special moments when people are ready to come out of their shells. I honestly thought that moment had arrived.”

“Surely, though, the way to win my daughter back shouldn’t be at the risk of losing my husband.”

“There’s obviously been a misunderstanding. I’m profoundly sorry.”

Sabiha’s eyes were full of tears, but her face was expressionless. “I’m an idiot,” she said.

“No, not at all. I brought you here because I wanted to help you look inside yourself. Please believe me, I had no ulterior motives—but even a doctor can’t always practice self-restraint.”

“Are you in love with me?”

“I have no right to be. You’re my patient.”

Her eyes, cheeks, and the palms of her hands felt as though they were on fire.

“I apologize too,” she said softly.

“Sabiha, let’s get one thing clear at least. You think you’re unhappy because you’re neglected by your husband. You’re not. Your husband is much more attached to his family than you think.”

“What makes you say that?”

“I can’t tell you, I’m afraid, but believe me, I know.”

“So you think I don’t love my husband, is that it?”

“Why should I think that?”

“Because I came here tonight.”

“Never!”

“I shouldn’t have. I shouldn’t have done this.”

“You’ve done nothing.”

“But surely you must have known of my weakness for you.”

“Maybe, but that’s because I can read you like a book, cover to cover. Most patients feel this way about their doctors.”

“You mean like students who fall in love with their teachers?”

“Not exactly.”

“So what do you mean, Sahir?”

“Sabiha…”

“I trusted you, I was under your influence, because you were good for me.”

“It’s my job to be good for you.”

“I must say you drew out all that stuff inside me very well…I wish this hadn’t happened.”

The doctor approached her, and then hugged her affectionately.

“Let’s forget about our moment of weakness, Sabiha. Please don’t forget that I’m your friend as well as your doctor. You’re tearing yourself inside out here, and I’m helping you do it. That’s all.”

“Let’s leave, please,” said Sabiha. “I want to go home.”

“Fine, let’s go.”

“You don’t have to. I can go on my own.”

“I won’t hear of it. Not at this time of night.”

He helped Sabiha on with her coat. He stopped the music, switched off the lamp, and they both went out into the harshly lit hall. When he saw Sabiha’s flushed face and ruffled hair, Sahir asked, “Would you like to powder your nose?”

“No, thank you.”

They left the apartment. This time Sabiha walked down the stairs without holding on to Sahir’s hand.

It was still snowing slightly.

“Please hold on to my arm or else you might slip,” said Sahir.

They walked arm in arm again, drifting into their thoughts.

This is so typical of me, Sabiha thought, feeling ashamed. I’m exactly what my father wanted me to be, well educated and open-minded, but underneath it all I’m still a slave to pressures and outdated notions. I’m a coward who wags her tail at the man she’s attracted to, but then can’t follow through. My father and I are like two peas in a pod. Didn’t he banish his daughter simply because she married Rafo, when all the time he boasted he was a civilized, contemporary man?

“What are you thinking?” asked Sahir.

“Nothing,” replied Sabiha.

Wouldn’t we be happier, she thought, if we could rid ourselves of the old conventions or shrug off the chains binding us to our past? If we could only do that, we’d be happier, more independent.

While Sabiha was treading carefully, crunching the snow under her feet, and holding on to Sahir’s arm, she had no doubt that she had made the right decision. She was also aware that she had missed her chance of bliss, and possibly the only opportunity for a fling that she had fantasized about for months. How she had longed to be as naked physically in Sahir’s arms as when she bared her soul to him. For months she had longed to offer herself to him, make love with him…but she hadn’t. She wasn’t as brave as Selva. She kept using the excuse that she shouldn’t be hurting those around her. Her mother’s famous words came to mind: “Don’t throw everyone else’s life into disarray.” Well, she was certainly as much her mother’s daughter as her father’s. Not only was she afraid of throwing other people’s lives into disarray, she was afraid of other people’s judgment.