Silent House by Orhan Pamuk Page A

feel ashamed, it’s as if I want to hurt them a little so they’ll notice me: that way, I would have punished them and nobody would give in to the devil and maybe they would only be afraid of me then. It’s a feeling like this: we’re in power and they’re behaving properly because of it. I got embarrassed to have these thoughts, and to forget my embarrassment I thought of you, Nilgün. You’re innocent. I was saying to myself, I’ll look at the crowd for a little while longer, then go back to the math book, when the guy who takes care of the beach said,
    “What are you hanging around here for?”
    “Is it forbidden?” I said.
    “If you’re going in, go over there and get a ticket!” he said. “If you have a bathing suit and money …”
    “Take it easy,” I said. “I’m going.”
    If you have money, if you have money, how much is it: this was what they prayed now instead of the Fatiha: You’re all so disgusting, sometimes I feel completely alone: Half of them disgusting, half of them idiots. When you think of it you become afraid of the crowd, but thank God our guys are here, when I’m with them I don’t get confused; I know then what’s a crime and what’s a sin, I can tell the difference between good and evil and I’m not afraid: I understand very well what has to be done. Then I thought of how our guys kept teasing me in the coffeehouse last night, calling me the Fox, and I got angry. Fine. I can do those things that have to be done all by myself, gentlemen, I can walk that road alone, because I know. I believe and trust in myself.
    I kept on walking and reached your house, Nilgün, without even noticing, I realized it when I saw that old wall covered with moss. The garden gate was closed. I went over and sat down under the chestnut tree on the other side of the road, looked at the windows and doors, and wondered what you were doing inside. Maybe you were eating something, maybe you still had that scarf on your head, maybe you were taking an afternoon nap. I picked up a stick and absentmindedly drew your picture in the sand collected on the sideof the road. Your face is prettier when you’re asleep. When I look at it, I forget all about sin and guilt, and those sinful guilty rashes that I sometimes feel like I’m covered with up to my throat, and I think, What could I have done wrong, I’m not one of them, I believe I’m like you. Then I think: If I sneak into the garden and over by where the tree sticks out and climb up the wall and slip into your room through the open window like a cat and kiss you on your cheek: Who are you? Don’t you recognize me, we played hide-and-seek, I love you, I love you more than all those fine fellows you know could ever possibly love you! Then I lost my temper: I wiped out the face I had drawn on the sand with my foot and just when I got up sick of all these stupid imaginings, I saw:
    Nilgün coming out of the house and walking toward the gate.
    They get everything wrong, they see everything as bad. I quickly moved off, turning my back to the gate. After I heard your voice I turned around: you had come out of the gate and going where, I wondered. So I followed you.
    She had a funny way of walking: like a man. If I ran up and put my hand on your shoulder: Don’t you recognize me, Nilgün, I’m Hasan, you know, we used to play in your garden when we were kids, Metin was there, too, later we went fishing.
    She didn’t look back when she turned the corner, just kept on walking: Are you going to the beach, are you going to join them, too? I was annoyed, but I kept following her. She was moving quickly on her stick legs, What’s the hurry, or is somebody waiting for you?
    She didn’t stop at the beach but kept on going uphill. I could guess now who was waiting for her. Maybe you’ll get in his car, maybe he has a boat: wondering which one he was, I kept following you, because I knew you were no different from the others.
    She vanished into the grocery store.