The Island of Missing Trees(22)

Her stomach clenching with anxiety, Defne sneaked out of the garden. The moonlight reflected off the stone setts along the narrow street, forming rivulets of silver that shimmered in front of her as if she were coasting over water. She accelerated her steps, glancing over her shoulder every few seconds to make sure no one was following.



They usually met here late at night, at this bend in the road by an ancient olive tree. They walked around a little or sat on a wall, ensconcing themselves in the shadows, the darkness a downy shawl enveloping their nerves. Sometimes a black-crowned night heron flew overhead or a hedgehog shuffled by, nocturnal creatures as secretive as the lovers themselves.

Today she was running late. As she approached their meeting point, her breathing quickened. With no street lamps and no houses nearby, it was almost pitch-black in places. As she got closer, she squinted ahead and tried to pick out his familiar outline amidst the trees but could not see anything. Her heart tripped. He must have left. Still she kept walking, hoping.

‘Defne?’

His voice gave her name a softer edge, the vowels slightly rounded. Now she discerned his silhouette. Tall, lean, unmistakable. A tiny orange glow moved in tandem with his hand.

‘Is that you?’ Kostas whispered.

‘Yes, you silly, who else could it be?’ Defne drew closer, smiling. ‘I didn’t know you smoked.’

‘I didn’t know either,’ Kostas said. ‘I was nervous. I nicked my brother’s packet.’

‘But why are you smoking, ashkim? Don’t you know it’s just a few puffs that disappear as soon as you exhale?’ Seeing his stricken expression, she laughed. ‘I’m kidding, it’s okay. Don’t mind me. Both my parents smoke. I’m used to it.’

They held hands, their fingers interlaced. Defne noticed he had put on a bit too much cologne. Clearly she wasn’t the only one trying to impress. She pulled him to her and kissed him. Being a year older, she considered herself more mature.

‘I was so worried you wouldn’t come,’ Kostas said.

‘I promised, didn’t I?’

‘Yes, but still …’

‘In our family we always keep our word. Father brought us up that way – both me and Meryem.’

He flicked out the last of the cigarette and crushed it under his shoe. ‘So you’ve never broken a promise in your life?’

‘No, I haven’t, actually. I don’t think my sister has either. I am not proud of it, it’s pretty boring. Once we give our word, we have to stick to it. That’s why I try not to make many promises.’ She threw her head back and looked him steadily in the eye. ‘But I can easily promise one thing: I will always love you, Kostas Kazantzakis.’

She could hear his heart thumping behind his ribcage. This boy who was gentle as the dew on a fresh morning and could sing the most touching ballads in a language she could not follow, this boy who could chatter excitedly about evergreen shrubs and crested hoopoes, now seemed lost for words.

She leaned forward, so close he could feel her breath upon his face. ‘What about you?’

‘Me? But I’ve already pledged myself – long ago. I know I’ll never stop loving you.’

She smiled, even though her habitual cynicism didn’t allow her to believe him. Neither did she allow herself to doubt him. Not tonight. She wanted to wrap herself around his words, shielding them the way you would cup your palms around a flame against the blowing wind.

‘I brought you something,’ Kostas said, producing a small item from his pocket, unwrapped.

It was a music box made of cherry wood with an inlaid design of brightly coloured butterflies on the lid and a key with a red silk tassel.

‘Oh, it’s so beautiful, thank you …’

She held the box close to her chest, feeling its smooth coldness. She knew he must have saved money to buy it. Carefully, she wound the key underneath, and a sweet melody spilled out. They listened until it came to an end.

‘I’ve got something for you too.’

She took a roll of paper from her bag. A pencil sketch of him sitting on a rock, birds floating over the horizon, a set of stone-built arches extending on either side. The week before, the two of them had strolled by the old aqueduct, which once carried water down from the mountains north of the city. Although daytime was always riskier, they had spent the whole afternoon there, inhaling the smell of wild grass, and that was the moment she had wanted to capture.

He held the drawing up, inspecting it in the moonlight. ‘You made me look handsome.’

‘Well, it wasn’t hard.’

He studied her expression, his fingers tracing the soft line of her jaw. ‘You’re so talented.’

They kissed, this time for longer, reaching for each other with an urgency, as though to keep themselves from falling. Yet there was also a timidity to their moves, even as every caress, every whisper, made them more tender. For it is a land without borders, a lover’s body. You discover it, not at once, but step by anxious step, losing your way, your sense of direction, treading its sunlit valleys and rolling fields, finding it warm and welcoming, and then, hidden in quiet corners, running into caverns invisible and unexpected, pits where you stumble and cut yourself.

Wrapping his arms around her, Kostas laid his cheek against her head. Defne buried her face in his neck. They were both aware that, however unlikely at so late an hour, someone could see them and report back to their families. An island, large or small, was filled with eyes watching from behind every latticed window, every crack in the wall, and through every red-tailed hawk that rose high on the wind – an unblinking, raptor gaze.