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“My older brother’s still alive；” Hasan said with conviction。 “There are
witnesses who have seen him。”
“This morning； based on the fact that he hasn’t returned after four years
campaigning； the üsküdar judge granted Shekure a divorce。 If he is alive； have
your witnesses tell him that he’s now a divorced man。”
“Shekure is restricted from remarrying for a month；” said Hasan。
“Otherwise it’s a sacrilege contrary to the Koran。 How could Shekure’s father
consent to such disgraceful nonsense？”
“Enishte Effendi；” Black said； “is very sick。 He’s on his death bed…and the
judge sanctified our marriage。”
“Did you work together to poison your Enishte？” said Hasan。 “Did you plan
this out with Hayriye？”
“My father…in…law is deeply distressed by what you’ve done to Shekure。
Your brother； if he’s really still alive； could also call you to account for your
dishonor。”
“These are all lies； each one！” said Hasan。 “These are only excuses cooked up
by Shekure so she could leave us。”
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There came a cry from within the house； it was Hayriye who’d screamed。
Next； Shevket screamed。 They shouted to each other。 Unwitting and afraid；
without being able to restrain myself； I shouted too and ran into the house
without knowing what I was doing。
Shevket ran down the stairs and fled out into the courtyard。
“My grandfather is as cold as ice；” he cried。 “My grandfather has died。”
We hugged each other。 I lifted him up。 Hayriye was still shouting。 Black and
Hasan heard the shouts and everything that was said。
“Mother； they’ve killed grandfather；” Shevket said this time。
Everyone heard this； too。 Had Hasan heard？ I squeezed Shevket tightly； and
calmly walked with him back inside。 At the top of the stairs； Hayriye was
wondering how the child had awoken and sneaked out。
“You promised you wouldn’t leave us；” said Shevket； who began to cry。
My mind was preoccupied now with Black。 Because he was busy with
Hasan； he didn’t think to close the gate。 I kissed Shevket on either cheek and
hugged him even tighter； taking in the scent of his neck； consoling him and；
finally handing him over to Hayriye； I whispered； “You two go upstairs。”
They went upstairs。 I returned and stood a few steps behind the gate。 I
assumed Hasan couldn’t see me。 Had he changed his position in the darkened
garden across the way； perhaps moving behind the trees that lined the street？
As it happened； however； he could see me； and as he spoke he addressed me；
too。 It was unnerving to convene in the dark with somebody whose face I
couldn’t see； but it was even worse； as Hasan accused me； accused us； to realize
deep down that he was justified。 With him； as with my father； I always felt
guilty； always in the wrong。 And now； moreover； I knew with great sadness that
I was in love with the man who was incriminating me。 My beloved Allah
please help me。 Love isn’t suffering for the sake of suffering； but a means to
reach You； is it not？
Hasan claimed that I’d killed my father in league with Black。 He said he’d
heard what Shevket had said； adding that everything had been laid bare and
that we’d mitted an unpardonable sin deserving of the torments of Hell。
e morning he’d go to the judge to explain it all。 If I were found to be
innocent； if my hands weren’t red with my father’s blood； he swore to have
me and the children returned to his house where he’d serve as father until his
older brother came back。 If； however； I were found guilty； a woman like me；
who’d mercilessly abandoned her husband—a man willing to make the
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highest sort of sacrifice—for her no punishment was too severe。 We patiently
listened to his fury； then noticed that there was an abrupt silence amid the
trees。
“If you return of your own free will to the home of your true husband；
now；” said Hasan； assuming a pletely different tone； “if you silently pitter…
patter back with your children without being seen by anyone； I’ll forget the
fake wedding ploy； the crimes you’ve mitted； all of it； I’ll forgive it all。 And；
we’ll wait together； Shekure； year after year； patiently； for my brother’s
return。”
Was he drunk？ There was something so infantile in his voice and what he
was now proposing to me in front of my husband that I feared it might cost
him his life。
“Do you understand？” he called out from among the trees。
I couldn’t determine exactly where he was in the blackness。 My dear God；
e to our aid； to us； Your sinning servants。
“Because you won’t be able to live under the same roof with the man who
killed your father； Shekure。 This I know。”
I momentarily thought that he could’ve been the one who killed my father；
and that he was now mocking us； perhaps。 This Hasan was the Devil incarnate。
But I couldn’t be certain of anything。
“Listen to me； Hasan Effendi；” Black called out to the darkness。 “My father…
in…law was murdered； this much is true。 The most despicable of men killed
him。”
“He’d been murdered before the wedding； isn’t that so？” said Hasan。 “You
two killed him because he opposed this marriage sham； this fake divorce； the
false witnesses and all your deceits。 If he’d considered Black to be appropriate；
he’d have given his daughter to him years ago。”
Having lived for years with my late husband； with us； Hasan knew our past
as well as we ourselves did。 And with the passion of a spurned lover； he
remembered every last detail of everything I’d discussed with my husband at
home； but had subsequently forgotten； or now wanted to forget。 Over the
years； we’d shared so many memories—he； his brother and I—that I worried
how strange； new and distant Black would seem to me if Hasan were to begin
recounting the past。
“We suspect that you were the one who killed him；” Black said。
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“On the contrary； you were the ones who killed him so you could marry。
This is evident。 As for me； I have no motive。”
“You killed him so we wouldn’t get married；” said Black。 “When you
learned that he’d permitted Shekure’s divorce and our marriage； you lost your
mind。 Besides； you were furious with Enishte Effendi because he’d encouraged
Shekure to return home to live with him。 You wanted revenge。 As long as he
remained alive； you knew you’d never get your hands on Shekure。”
“Be done with your stalling；” Hasan said decisively。 “I refuse to listen to this
prattle。 It’s very cold here。 I froze out here trying to get your attention with
the rocks—didn’t you hear them？”
“Black had lost himself in my father’s illustrations；” I said。
Had I done wrong in saying this？
Hasan spoke in precisely the same false tone that I sometimes resorted to
with Black： “Shekure； as you are my brother’s wife； your best course of action
is to return now with your children