While Shevket was eating in the kitchen, Orhan and I went upstairs. I lifted him onto my lap and kissed his neck.

“You’re covered in sweat,” I said. “What happened here?”

“Shevket hit me with our uncle’s red sword.”

“It’s bruised,” I said and touched the spot. “Does it hurt? How thoughtless our Shevket is. Listen to what I have to say. You’re very smart and sensitive. I have a request to make of you. If you do what I say, I’ll tell you a secret that I won’t tell Shevket or anyone else.”

“What is it?”

“Do you see this piece of paper? You’re to go to your grandfather, and without letting him see, you’re to place this in Black Effendi’s hand. Do you understand?”

“I understand.”

“Will you do it?”

“What’s the secret?”

“Just take him the paper,” I said. I once again kissed his neck, which smelled fragrantly. And while we’re on the subject of fragrance, it’s been so very long since Hayriye has taken these boys to the public bath. They haven’t gone since Shevket’s thing began to rise in front of the women there. “I’ll tell you the secret later.” I kissed him. “You’re very bright and very pretty. Shevket’s a nuisance. He’d even have the audacity to lift a hand against his mother.”

“I’m not going to deliver this,” he said. “I’m afraid of Black Effendi. He’s the one who killed my father.”

“Shevket told you this, didn’t he?” I said. “Quick, go downstairs and tell him to come here.”

Orhan could see the rage in my face. Terrified, he slid off my lap and ran out of the room. Maybe he was even slightly pleased that Shevket was in trouble. A while later, both of them returned flushed and blushing. Shevket was holding a strip of dried fruit in one hand and a sword in the other.

“You’ve told your brother that Black was the one who killed your father,” I said. “I don’t ever want you to say such a thing in this house again. You should both show respect and affection to Black. Do we understand each other? I won’t allow you to live your entire lives without a father.”

“I don’t want him. I’d rather return to our house, where Uncle Hasan lives, and wait for my father,” Shevket said brazenly.

This made me so irate that I slapped him. He hadn’t put the sword down; it fell from his hand.

“I want my father,” he said through his tears.

But I was crying more than he was.

“You have no father anymore, he won’t be coming back,” I said tearfully. “You’re fatherless, don’t you understand, you bastards.” I was crying so much that I was afraid they’d heard me from within.

“We aren’t bastards,” said Shevket, crying.

We all cried long and hard. Weeping softened my heart and I sensed that I was crying because it made me a better person. In our communal fit of tears, we embraced each other and lay upon the roll-up mattress. Shevket had snuggled his head down between my breasts as if to nap. Sometimes, he’d cuddle up with me like this, as if we were stuck together, but I could sense that he wasn’t sleeping. I might’ve dozed off with them, except that my mind was preoccupied with what was going on downstairs. I could smell the sweet aroma of boiling oranges. I abruptly sat up in bed and made such a sound that the boys awoke.

“Go downstairs, have Hayriye fill your stomachs.”

I was alone in the room. Snow had begun to fall outside. I begged for Allah’s help. Then I opened the Koran, and after once again reading the section in the “Family of Imran” chapter which stated that those who were killed in battle, who were killed on the path of Allah, would join Him, I put myself at ease with regard to my deceased husband. Had my father shown Black Our Sultan’s as yet unfinished portrait? My father claimed that this portrait would be so lifelike that whoever beheld it would avert his eyes out of fear, as happened to those who tried to look directly into Our Glorious Sultan’s eyes.

I called for Orhan, and without lifting him onto my lap, kissed him at length on the forehead, crown and cheeks. “Now then, without being scared, and without letting your grandfather see, you’re to give this paper to Black. Do you understand?”

“My tooth is loose.”

“When you get back, if you want, I’ll pull it out,” I said. “You’re to sidle up to him. He’ll be at a loss for what to do and he’ll hug you. Then you’ll secretly place the paper into his hand. Am I understood?”

“I’m afraid.”

“There’s nothing to be afraid of. If it weren’t for Black, do you know who wants to become your father in his stead? Uncle Hasan! Do you want Uncle Hasan to become your father?”

“No.”

“All right then, let’s see you go, my pretty and smart Orhan,” I said. “If not, watch out, I’ll be really angry…And if you cry, I’ll get even angrier.”

I folded my letter several times, then stuck it into his small hand now stretched out in hopelessness and resignation. Allah, come to my aid so that these fatherless children aren’t left to fend for themselves. I escorted him to the door, holding his hand. At the threshold he looked at me fearfully one last time.

I watched him through the peephole as he took his uncertain steps toward the sofa, approached my father and Black, stopped, and momentarily hesitated-unsure what to do. He glanced back at the peephole looking for me. He began to cry. But with one final effort he succeeded in surrendering himself to Black’s lap. Black, clever enough to have earned the right to be father to my children, didn’t panic to find Orhan crying unaccountably on his lap and he checked to see if there was anything in the boy’s hands.

Orhan returned beneath the startled gaze of my father, and I ran to meet him and took him onto my lap, kissing him at length. I brought him downstairs to the kitchen, and filled his mouth with the raisins he liked so much.

“Hayriye, take the boys to Galleon Harbor and buy some gray mullet suitable for soup from Kosta’s place. Take these silver coins and with the change from the fish, buy Orhan some dried yellow figs and cherries on the way back. Buy Shevket roasted chickpeas and sweetmeat sausage with walnuts. Walk them around to wherever they want to go until the evening prayers are called, but be careful they don’t catch cold.”

After they’d bundled up and left, the quiet in the house pleased me. I went upstairs and took out the little mirror that my father-in-law had made and my husband had given me as a gift. I kept it hidden away between pillowcases that smelled of lavender. I hung it up. If I looked at myself in the mirror from a distance, and moved oh so delicately, I could see my whole body. My vest of red broadcloth suited me, but I also wanted to don my mother’s purple blouse which had been part of her trousseau. I took out the long pistachio-colored robe my grandmother had embroidered with flowers, and tried it on, but it didn’t please me. As I was trying it on under the purple blouse, I felt a chill; I shuddered, and the candle flame trembled with me. Over it all, of course, I was going to wear my fox fur-lined street robe, but at the last minute I changed my mind, and silently crossing the hall, I removed the very long and loose azure-colored woolen robe that my mother had given me and put it on. Just then I heard a noise at the door and fell into a panic: Black was leaving! I quickly removed my mother’s old robe and put on the fur-lined red one: It was tight around the bustline, but I liked it. I then donned the softest and whitest veil, lowering it over my face.

Black Effendi hadn’t left yet, of course; I’d let my apprehension deceive me. If I go out now, I can tell my father that I went to buy fish with the children. I padded down the stairs like a cat.

I closed the door-click-like a ghost. I quietly passed through the courtyard and when I was out on the street, momentarily turned and looked back at the house. From behind my veil it seemed as if it wasn’t our house at all.

There was no one in the street, not even any cats. Flakes of snow danced in the air. With a shudder, I entered the abandoned garden where sunlight never fell. It smelled of rotten leaves, dampness and death; yet, when I entered the house of the Hanged Jew, I felt as though I were in my own home. They say that jinns meet here at night, light the stove and make merry. I was startled to hear my footsteps in the empty house. I waited, stock-still. I heard a sound in the garden, but then everything was overcome by silence. I heard a dog bark nearby. I recognize all the dogs in our neighborhood from their barks, but I couldn’t place this one.