Missing Rose (9781101603864) (9 page)

25

T
HE TEAROOM,
consisting of four separate seating areas, was well lit and furnished in authentic Turkish style. Apart from the waiter in his gold-braided vest at the entrance, there was no one else around.

Kilims in plain patterns of brick red, mustard yellow and blue decorated the dark parquet floor. The walls were hung with paintings depicting various scenes of old Istanbul: Ottoman boats on the Golden Horn, mosques with their minarets vying with each other to reach the sky, ceremonies of whirling dervishes, grand wooden houses stretching along the shores of the Bosphorus . . .

Within a short while, the sound of approaching footsteps roused Diana from her reverie in front of the paintings.

Into the tearoom came a woman with delicate features and big blue eyes, her hair, graying in places, done in a chignon at the back of her head, and her perfect complexion belying her age. The long white linen dress she wore gave her an air of distinction.

When their eyes met, the elderly woman had already opened her arms and was rushing toward Diana:

“My goodness, I can't believe my eyes! Mary, it's you! Oh, what a beautiful young lady you've become!”

Zeynep Hanim embraced her in such a way that, for a moment, Diana was reminded of her mother. Whenever her mother had embraced her, Diana had always felt it wouldn't be her mother who'd let go first.

“Oh, let me have a look at you,” Zeynep Hanim said, taking Diana's face in her hands.

“I'm sorry, but I'm not Mary,” said Diana, pulling away. “My name is Diana.”

Zeynep Hanim smiled. “Mary, how could I ever forget you?”

“No, really, I'm not her. I'm her twin.”

Zeynep Hanim regarded her doubtfully. “Mary, my dear, you have no twin.”

“Please, you must believe me. Actually, I've come here to ask
you
about Mary.”

“What do you mean? Surely it was you who phoned me the other day and said you'd be coming here this week.”

“What? Did . . . did Mary call you? She said she was coming here? Where's she now?”

Zeynep Hanim motioned Diana toward a chair as if trying to calm her down. Sitting in the chair opposite, she asked, “So you're definitely not Mary?”

“You can take my word for it. But please tell me, where's Mary, when is she arriving here?”

“It's not that I don't believe you, my dear, but—”

“Please, when will Mary come?”

“She didn't say exactly which day she'd arrive, but she should be here within the next three or four days. I have no idea where she is now. It's been many years since I saw her. And it was the very first time she'd called since then. But what about you? Haven't you seen her recently?”

“It's a long story, but if you're willing to listen, I'm here to share it with you.”

“Of course, I'd like to hear it. But first tell me what you'd like to drink. Are you hungry? You may order whatever you like. I'll have some green tea with fresh mint. I recommend it.”

“Thank you, an espresso would be fine for me.”

“Well, we have espresso, but perhaps you'd like to try a cup of Turkish coffee?”

“Why not.”

26

B
Y THE TIME
the waiter came back bearing a silver tea tray, Diana had finished telling Zeynep Hanim all that had happened.

“I'm so sorry, Diana,” Zeynep Hanim said, placing her hand over Diana's. “But don't worry about Mary. Mary isn't someone who'd harm herself. But, my dear, what about you? You must have been through a really tough time.”

“I'm trying to pull myself together. But to be able to do that, first I have to find Mary. I need your help. If she calls again, I'd really prefer it if you wouldn't tell her about me until she gets here, if that's okay? Also, if you can find out her phone number or where she is, I'd be very happy to know.”

“If she phones, of course I'll do what I can. I'm so glad you're going to meet her, Diana. Mary is an extraordinary girl. It's sad you haven't known each other all these years.”

Zeynep Hanim picked up the silver teapot and filled the crystal glass in front of her. She checked to see whether Diana was enjoying her coffee before asking, “What did Mary say about me in her letters?”

On hearing this, Diana suddenly felt strange. In the excitement of learning that Mary would be coming there, the question of what kind of a person Zeynep Hanim might be had completely slipped her mind. Wasn't she the one who'd taught Mary how to speak with roses?

She took another careful look at Zeynep Hanim. With her smiling eyes, the peaceful expression on her face, the softness in her manner and her tone of voice, she seemed not only sane, but resembled the very picture of a perfect lady. Most probably, she would smile out of sympathy when she heard what Mary had said about her and comfort Diana by explaining why her twin had written such things in her letters.

“I know it will probably sound funny to you,” Diana said, “but in one of her letters Mary wrote that you'd taught her to hear roses speak.”

Contrary to her expectations, Zeynep Hanim looked not the least bit surprised.

Diana wanted to hear her say that “hearing roses speak” was nothing but a game she'd played with Mary. Or that the things Mary talked about in her letters were mere expressions of her lively imagination. This was the kind of explanation Diana wanted to hear because she would feel very uneasy sitting with a person who wouldn't refute the idea that she could teach people how to hear roses.

“So that's what Mary wrote,” Zeynep Hanim said eventually. “It's unbelievable, isn't it?”

Diana didn't know what to make of this question. It was on the tip of her tongue to say, “Yes, it's absolutely unbelievable,” but at the last moment she changed her mind and decided rather to sound out Zeynep Hanim.

“Isn't reality unbelievable, too?” Diana said calmly. “Take the Earth, for example—it feels so stable under our feet, but it's actually moving more rapidly than the fastest plane.”

Zeynep Hanim made no comment. Realizing that she wouldn't say anything, Diana finally asked, “Did you really teach Mary to hear roses?”

Zeynep Hanim took a sip of tea. “Diana, be my personal guest until Mary arrives. Here, we also serve people who can't hear roses. And I'm sure all the staff will feel honored to serve Mary's twin.”

Diana wondered whether Zeynep Hanim was just trying to shield Mary. Or maybe Diana was faced with a person who just enjoyed seeming mysterious. Or was there a completely different reason behind Zeynep Hanim's behavior?

“Thank you, but I can't accept that. However, I'd like to stay until Mary arrives if you have a room I can pay for.”

“I'm sorry, Diana, the house is fully booked. The only way I can help you is if you agree to be my personal guest.”

Zeynep Hanim beckoned to the waiter, and said something to him in Turkish before turning to Diana.

“My dear, you look tired. If you like, someone can take you straight up to your room. If there's anything you want, just ask at reception. In any case, we'll be seeing each other again when Mary gets here.”

Although Zeynep Hanim was being kind, Diana could sense that she was disappointed that it wasn't Mary sitting in front of her. For a moment, she thought of leaving after saying, “Thanks a lot, but I don't want your room or your hospitality on Mary's account.”

But instead, she nodded in acceptance of Zeynep Hanim's offer.

27

A
FTER A NIGHT
of undisturbed sleep, Diana was down to breakfast early. As she entered the breakfast room, she saw Zeynep Hanim sitting by herself at a table near the door.

Diana took a deep breath in anticipation of what she was about to do. She wasn't going to do this because she believed in Mary's fantasies or because she wanted to please Zeynep Hanim. Her only objective was to better understand how Mary had become the way she was.

“Excuse me, I hope I'm not disturbing you,” Diana said.

“No, my dear, but I was just about to leave.”

Diana took another deep breath and, in a resolute manner, she said, “I would like you to teach me what you taught Mary.”

Zeynep Hanim looked at her in silence. It was as if this look penetrated into Diana's mind, reading all her thoughts and feelings, before leaving her once again alone with herself.

“Won't you sit down, Diana?”

“Does this mean you agree?”

“Agree to what?”

She's just acting as if she didn't understand, Diana thought. Maybe she wanted to seem even more mysterious. Diana had to beat her at her own game.

“I want you to teach me to hear roses just like you taught Mary to.”

“Why do you want me to do this?”

“Well, it must be an incredible experience to have affected Mary so much.”

The soft expression on Zeynep Hanim's face, which always seemed about to give way to a smile, suddenly vanished.

“And do you think it'll be worth what I will require in return?”

“What is that?” Diana asked.

“I want you to kill yourself.”

Diana was uncertain whether this was a joke or just another piece of the puzzle. So she said nothing, only laughed. She expected Zeynep Hanim to laugh as well, but she didn't.

“Did you ask Mary for the same thing?”

“There was no need. Mary didn't have a self which doubted that roses could speak or be heard. What about you, Diana, do you have such a self? Do you believe you can hear roses or do you doubt it?”

“Oh, please! When Mary came here, she was only a child. When I was that age, I believed in things which were even more unbelievable than talking roses.”

“Such as?”

“Such as, such as . . . I believed I could swim around the world, for example. I believed I could fly or talk with angels. My mother used to tell me that my father was with God. So I promised myself to swim all around the world to find the place where God and my father lived. If I couldn't find my father anywhere in the sea, then I was going to put on the biggest pair of wings to search for him in the sky. And if I couldn't find him there, either, I would ask an angel to take me to him. Why? Because I was a child! Do you know what the truth about my father was; where he was when I was dreaming of doing all these things?”

Diana stopped, ready to burst into tears. “Oh, never mind, it doesn't matter anymore.”

“And then what happened, Diana?”

“What do you mean, what happened?”

“When did you give up searching for your father or dreaming you would see him again? Who taught you that there was no way you could find him?”

Diana got to her feet. “I'm sorry, but this was a mistake. My mistake. I won't bother you again.”

“Just as I thought,” Zeynep Hanim said. “Diana is unwilling to die, so she'll never be able to hear the roses.”

Turning her back on Zeynep Hanim, Diana marched toward the door. But she still heard the question whispered from behind her:

“Who do you think understands the value of life the most, Diana?”

Diana stopped and waited without turning her head.

“Those who have tasted death,” said Zeynep Hanim.

Diana returned to the table. “Please tell me, what is it you want from me?”

“Just one thing: kill the self within you that doesn't believe you can hear roses. Tasting such a death will grant you a life in which you can hear them. And I'm only asking you to do this because you wanted me to teach you how to hear roses.”

“Well, let me be honest with you,” Diana said. “If this thing, this so-called ‘hearing roses,' is what I think it is—that is, if you're suggesting that we can hear them physically—I don't believe it's possible. And any claim to the contrary doesn't awaken the slightest curiosity in me. But if, in spite of this, you say you can teach me, then please do.”

“But there are some conditions,” Zeynep Hanim said.

“Like what?”

“Very simple. You'll do exactly what you're told. You're free to give up the lessons anytime, but as long as you go on with them, you must do exactly what I say. The lessons will take place at the assigned times in the garden at the back of the house. You must not be a second late. It's better not to come at all than to be late. In the garden, the gardener's word—my word to be precise—is law. There will be four lessons in all. During this time, which could be viewed as an internship for the art of hearing roses, you're forbidden to go out of the guesthouse unaccompanied. I have one more condition: a blank résumé.”

“Blank résumé?”

“Naturally, you have the résumé of a young woman who was born at a specific time, in a specific place, into a specific social environment. If you'd been born in Rio de Janeiro a few centuries later or had been raised by Native Americans a few centuries earlier or grown up on an island in the South Pacific today, your life experience would have been completely different. Perhaps, if not certainly, you would have a totally different perception and understanding of life, maybe quite the opposite of the one you have now.

“Résumés are all relative. But we hear roses with a part of ourselves which is not bound by time, place or the social environment in which we live. That's why you have to wipe out all sections from your résumé: education, past experience and, especially, the references section. If these things had been of any use in a rose garden, botanists would have been the first to hear roses. What you've learned up to now will only be baggage for you here. And heavy baggage, too.”

Suddenly, Diana looked at Zeynep Hanim as if she'd remembered something. “And the water won't bear me with this baggage, right?”

“Very true. Where did you hear that?”

“According to one of Mary's letters, my mother said almost the same thing to her in a dream. But then, Mary says that a lot of what she saw in her dream came true later.”

“That's only natural,” Zeynep Hanim said. “Dreams are the leaven of reality.”

“Well,” Diana said, unwilling to talk any longer about Mary's dreams, “we were speaking of the conditions . . . Suppose I agree to keep to all of them, what do I get in return?”

“Whatever your intention is in entering the garden, that's what you'll get. It's not what you do in the garden that matters, but
why
you do it. If your intention in learning to hear roses is simply to make you different from other people, I'm afraid you'll only gain vanity. If your intention is just to hear roses, you'll hear roses. Or like Mary, if you enter the garden to hear your mother's voice through the roses, you'll hear her voice. If, apart from these, what you want is to experience something new purely for the sake of entertainment, that's also possible—at your own expense.”

It was all like a bad joke.
This elderly lady, who until a little while ago had seemed such a gentle person, had suddenly turned into a strict quality control manager who'd forgive no mistake; or a general bombarding his aide-de-camp with orders, as if the subject she was lecturing on with such earnestness wasn't about hearing flowers, birds and bees!

“I'm intrigued about something,” Diana said. “Whether you believe in it or not, the idea of hearing roses sounds quite sensational. But, on the other hand, the conditions you listed and your approach, well . . . Please don't get me wrong, but it all seems very rigid and confining.”

“Rain clouds, rain, water; all these are sensational, too. But to quench our thirst, ultimately we need a confining glass.”

Diana remained silent for a while before asking, “You said only four lessons, right?”

“Only four.”

“Well, okay then.”

Zeynep Hanim got to her feet. “Our first lesson will begin tomorrow morning at 6:11. Our subject is the Mathematics of Hearing Roses. You don't need to bring books with you on algebra or geometry or anything of that sort. Just be on time by the stools at the entrance to the garden, that'll be enough.”

“At 6:11 in the morning?”

“Precisely.”

Although Diana wasn't enthralled by the idea of getting up that early, she nodded in agreement.

“Good. Now let's synchronize our watches,” Zeynep Hanim said. “Oh, I nearly forgot. If you manage to hear a rose upon completion of our lessons, a reward will be waiting for you.”

“You really think that might happen, don't you? You must have great faith in me.”

“As long as you have faith in yourself, I have faith in you.”

“So what's the reward?”

“A prized saying that has come down through the centuries.”

“What if I can't succeed?” Diana asked with a wry smile. “Isn't there any punishment for failing the class?”

“The silence of roses,” Zeynep Hanim said. “Not being able to hear roses is enough of a punishment for those who fail to hear them.”