Chapter 7Emir

Chapter 7 Emir

Janie showed me to the guest bedroom, quickly clearing two bags from the wardrobe to create space for my luggage. The room was tastefully designed, with soft carpets and soothing tones. Back when I’d been managing Cem, traveling around Europe and staying in hotels, I would have felt like I belonged. I might have even felt like a man worthy of Janie’s time. But I’d lost my way. I didn’t have a real job. I was across the world, performing menial tasks for my brother, no longer calling the shots.

Janie held at the doorway, her face frozen into a half smile, her eyes cast down to my feet. She’d seemed a bit flustered since our shopping trip. “Is there anything else you need?”

“No, thank you.”

“I’ll make some tea if you want to join me. If you’re not too tired?”

She looked up at me with such open interest I couldn’t deny that part of me wanted to explore it. What would it feel like to be chosen?

“Tea sounds great.”

I’d been by myself for so long I didn’t even know how to allow someone closer. Was there any way to do that without entering a world of hurt? Probably not, if history was any indication. I couldn’t do fun and casual. I was neither of those things. I’d fallen in love once and it had destroyed me. I knew the power of it, and I knew better than to go near that fire.

I wouldn’t risk it for a woman who lived a world away. A woman who had roots in this soil. A family. I shook my head at the thought. This was exactly what I’d been warning Cem about. Not that he ever listened. And now my family paid the price of their ill-considered love story. If I did the same, there’d be nobody left to look after my parents. I was a downer, but I’d always been the dependable one.

Janie flashed me a hopeful smile and disappeared, leaving the hallway darker, as if she’d been the source of light.

Fifteen minutes later, showered and changed into slacks and a T-shirt, I met her in the kitchen. She’d changed into a pair of black tights and a pale purple shirt, and her hair swayed in a high ponytail. Her smile caught me off guard, again. “You look so much more comfortable!”

“It’s not too casual?” I glanced at the outfit I never wore outside the privacy of my bedroom. But I was starting to learn how casual New Zealand was.

“No!” She handed me a cup of tea. It smelled strong and sweet and familiar. “It’s not Turkish but as close I could get.” She shot me an apologetic smile.

My chest tightened at the thought. “You didn’t have to. I’ll drink whatever you drink.”

“I love Turkish tea.”

I liked the way her cheeks colored, so at odds with her confidence that I almost wanted to tease her. If I’d known how to do that without offending.

I tasted the tea. “It’s nice. Thank you.”

“Do you want me to…” she gestured at her own neck, then at the dining table.

Against my better judgment, I sat down. Her dog appeared, tail wagging, raising its paws on my knee, as perky as its owner. “Only if you tell me all the things you need help with. I’ll make a list and start first thing tomorrow morning.”

The second her hands landed on my skin; my body flooded with incredible, tingly warmth. An uncontrollable sound gurgled out of my throat, and I tried to cover it with a cough.

I heard the smile in Janie’s voice. “If you insist, I do have some broken fencing. And some of the trellis around the verandah was damaged by the storm.”

“Did you have flooding around here?” I’d heard about the floods that hit Napier only weeks after the earthquake that devastated much of Turkey and Syria.

“No. I’m lucky my house is so elevated. I only had heavy rain and a couple of slips. It destroyed some of my crop. Spooked Molly. But I was lucky. I didn’t drown inside my own house.”

Her hands trembled and the same shiver ran through me. “Was that what happened?”

“To some people. Esk Valley got hit hard. It’s not in the news anymore, but I think the aftereffects will linger for years. Like in Turkey and Syria.”

I sighed. “It’ll take decades to rebuild. Many people will deal with PTSD for the rest of their lives. You can’t even measure the cost.”

“I thought everything could be calculated?”

I harrumphed. “Okay. I concede my point. Natural disasters might be too difficult in that sense.”

“How is your English so good? Your accent is stronger than your brother’s, but your vocabulary is… impressive.”

I shivered again, and this time it had nothing to do with her fingers shaking. How could she put so much reverence into that word? “I read a lot. I study.” What else could you do when you weren’t invited to parties, nor wanted to attend them? Books had been my escape for two decades. And as a result, I found most people, especially those who didn’t read, tedious to talk to.

“What was the last book you read?”

“It was a collection of stories by Haruki Murakami. Picked it up from the airport. Their selection wasn’t great.”

“Did you like it?”

“It had an arresting atmosphere.”

“Just like you.”

“Just like me?”

“Maybe it’s the accent,” she mused and chuckled. “A little bit of a culture shock, in a good way. When I’m talking to you, I feel like I’m traveling.” Her voice sounded dreamy.

“I thought I was the one traveling.”

“No. We both are,” she insisted, sadness bleeding into her words. “I don’t get to travel anymore, so this is as good as it gets. Don’t take it away from me.”

“ Tamam,” I said. I could give her this. “Sen ?ok ?ekici bir kad?n.”

She sighed and I heard the smile in her voice. “Now it feels like I’m traveling! What does it mean?”

“That you’re welcome back to Turkey,” I lied.

“I thought Turkey was Türkiye?” Her fingers stilled on my neck and a chill traveled through me. “You didn’t say Türkiye.”

How could she pick my words apart like that? I thought about covering with another lie, but what was the point?

“Okay, you got me. I said you’re very attractive.”

She burst into laughter. “Now it definitely feels like I’m traveling in Turkey!” As her laughter settled, her fingers dove into my hair. “Thank you,” she whispered, leaning so close I felt her warm breath on my ear.

I could usually control myself, at least in company. Pain had a way of dampening other urges, making me feel like I’d conquered what ailed most of my fellow men. But I wasn’t that different. When her soft, husky voice flooded my ear, I felt like another Turkish man, ready to chase what I desired. I took a deep breath, trying to push those thoughts away. Focus on the relief her touch brought to my tight muscles.

“How about some Pilates?” she murmured, her voice all smiles. “I could show you some basic moves to help with your back. I’ve been doing it for years.”

“I don’t have any… tights.” I winced. “I mean, whatever you wear to that sort of fancy exercise.”

I felt her bubbly laugh in my body as if it spilled through her fingertips. “It’s not that fancy. What you’re wearing is fine.”

“Where do you do it? Do you have a gym here, or…”

She gestured at the shaggy rug surrounded by plush couches. “You don’t need any equipment. It’s so easy. I’ll show you.”

I set down my teacup and followed her to the rug, maybe out of politeness, or because I’d become addicted to her touch. If there was a chance that she needed to physically guide me through this strange exercise, it was worth it. Embarrassment and all.

Darkness had fallen outside, and Janie pulled the heavy curtains, turning the living room into a cozy haven. The shades of cream, grey and soft green again made me think of a hotel.

I lowered myself onto the floor, wincing at the pressure in my lower back as I folded my legs to mirror hers. “We shall never speak of this.”

Janie’s smile sparkled. “You don’t want to take photos for your family? They’d be so proud!”

She looked so comfortable sitting like a monk on the floor, her back straight, shoulders pulled back. I tried to imitate her posture, but a pain seared through my lower back. “I can’t.”

Her eyes flashed with concern, and she moved closer. “Okay. Sitting this way is hard on your lower back. Let’s start on the floor.”

I looked around me, confused. “But we are on the floor.”

“I mean…” She moved closer and guided me onto my back, legs folded. “Can you lift your hips?”

My face flushed. I’d never been this uncomfortable in my life. Janie scooted backwards and lay on the rug next to me, peeling her hips off the floor. The movement made her T-shirt shift down her body, revealing a slice of tanned midriff. She was in incredible shape. I forced my eyes at the ceiling and tried to copy the move. I couldn’t get my hips aligned with hers, no matter what I tried. Groaning, I lowered myself back against the floor. The soft rug hugged my sore back. She was right. I needed this.

Janie guided me through the gentle moves, curving my back to imitate cats and cows, then something she called ‘rolling on the floor’. Again, she looked like an actual ball as she rocked and rolled, back rounded, arms around her folded legs. I was more like a plank falling against the floor, but after a few tries, I felt my spine curving and managed to rock back and forth a little.

“Good job!” Janie clapped her hands and grabbed my shoulder, helping me back up to sitting. “Great progress.”

Her praise flooded me with warmth, and I told myself to chill. This woman was a performer. Essentially an actress. She played a part. She told you what you wanted to hear. Still, I wanted to sit next to her, basking in that light that shone from her eyes. Even if for one fake moment.

“My back feels better. Can we continue tomorrow?”

“Are you giving up already?” Her smile had a teasing edge.

“Is there more?” I stifled a yawn. The room was spinning.

“We’re only getting started.”

She rolled back onto the floor, this time on her side, and lifted her leg up, pointing her toe at the ceiling. I tried to copy her move but managed to only lift my leg third of the way. Was her leg even connected to her pelvis? “How are you doing that?”

She cocked her head, examining my feeble attempts, and guided me up and into a yoga move I remembered from years ago. Downward something. It hurt even more, but I persevered, and followed her example through a simple series of movements. My back stretched and ached, but I could tell it was good pain. Necessary pain. I should have tried this a long time ago. I jogged and trained at the gym, but I’d never enjoyed stretching. Pilates was strange—a workout designed to cause maximum amount of pain with minimum movement, but it obviously worked.

After twenty minutes of surprisingly challenging workout, she guided us into a ‘child pose’, and announced we were finished.

“Thank you,” I mumbled, my cheek against the rug. “I think this helped. Even if I can no longer stand up or walk.”

“You need to get some rest. Jetlag is the worst.”

She straightened, placing her hand on my lower back. “But you should do this every day. It’s great for your back.”

“Okay,” I rasped, feeling like a heavy-duty cardboard box someone was trying to fold into a recycling bin. Yet, I wanted to keep her hand where it was. The magic hand that took the pain away.

Holding onto the couch, I made it upright and wobbled out of the living room, wishing her good night on my way out.

When I made it to my room, I closed the door and spent a long time leaning against it, my heart pounding. Something was happening to me. Something within me felt softer, and it wasn’t just muscles. Staying in her house was not a safe choice. I’d been so careful, stepping only on the solid stones, navigating life like a board game that only required good strategy and stupid co-players. Nothing mushy or confusing. No chance of getting knifed in my exposed underbelly. I’d begun to feel pleased with myself, observing the mess and heartbreak of fellow humans like an alien sent to investigate human life on earth. Superior and unaffected. A smug asshole.

But now my foot had made contact with something soft, and I was sinking.