The Island of Missing Trees(49)

‘You know, back in Cyprus, we had a goat. Beautiful creature. Me and your mum were always petting him. We called him Karpuz because he loved watermelon. One morning Baba took Karpuz to the vet. He put him at the back of a truck. Stuffy, dusty. He had other things to do, so he kept Karpuz tied there the whole day. When the goat returned home, he was so stressed. He had this glazed look in his eyes.’ Meryem leaned over and squinted. ‘Right now, you look like Karpuz after the truck ride.’

Ada gave a little snort. ‘I’m fine.’

‘That’s what Karpuz said.’

Breathing in slowly, Ada rolled her eyes. She could have felt upset at her aunt’s nosiness but, strangely, she didn’t. Instead she felt an urge to open up to her. Maybe she could confide in this woman, who was here for a little while. There was no risk in sharing a few things with her. Besides, she needed to talk to someone, hear a different voice to those churning away inside her mind.

‘I don’t like my school. I don’t want to go there any more.’

‘Oh dear,’ said Meryem. ‘Does your father know?’

‘I tried to tell him, it didn’t go that well.’

Meryem’s eyebrows rose.

‘Don’t look so shaken, it’s not the end of the world,’ said Ada. ‘I’m not abandoning my entire education to join an underground cult. I just don’t like this school, that’s all.’

‘Listen, canim, I know you might get cross with me for saying this, but remember, good advice is always annoying and bad advice never is. So if what I say irritates you, take it as good advice.’

Ada narrowed her eyes.

‘Good, I can see you are already irritated,’ said Meryem. ‘What I am trying to say is, you are young and the young are impatient. They can’t wait for school to be over and life to begin. But let me tell you a secret: it already has! This is what life is. Boredom, frustration, trying to get out of things, longing for something better. Going to another school won’t make things different. So you’d better stay. What is it? Are they giving you a hard time, the other kids?’

Ada drummed her fingers against the table to keep them busy. ‘Well … I did something awful in front of the whole class. Now I’m too embarrassed to go back.’

The lines on Meryem’s forehead deepened. ‘What did you do?’

‘I screamed … until I lost my voice.’

‘Oh, honey, you should never raise your voice at your teacher.’

‘No, no. Not at the teacher. It felt like I was screaming at everyone – everything.’

‘Were you angry?’

Ada’s shoulders dropped a little. ‘That’s the thing, I don’t think it was anger. Maybe I’m just not well. My mum had mental health issues. So, yeah, I could have whatever my mum had. Genetic, I guess.’

Meryem stopped breathing for a second, though Ada did not seem to notice.

‘My father says trees can remember – and he says sometimes young trees have some kind of “stored memory”, like they know about the traumas their ancestors have gone through. That’s a good thing, he says, because the saplings can adjust themselves better.’

‘I don’t know much about trees,’ said Meryem, turning the idea in her head. ‘But girls your age should not be worrying about such things. Sorrow is to the soul what a worm is to wood.’

‘You mean termite?’

‘Let’s say history is ugly, what’s it to you?’ said Meryem, continuing regardless. ‘It’s not your problem. My generation made a mess of things. Your generation is lucky. You don’t have to wake up one day with a border in front of your house or worry about your father being gunned down on the street just because of his ethnicity or religion. How I wish I were your age now.’

Ada kept her eyes on her hands.

‘Look, everyone has done something silly in their youth that they thought was beyond repair. Maybe you feel lonely right now. You think your classmates laughed at you and maybe they did, but that’s human nature. If your beard is on fire, others will light their pipes on it. But my point is, you’ll come out stronger. One day you’ll look back and say, why was I even worried about that?’

Ada considered this, though she didn’t believe a word. Perhaps that was true in the past but in this new world of technology, silly mistakes, if that’s what they were, once online, stayed around forever.

‘You don’t understand, I screamed like a maniac, like I was possessed,’ Ada said. ‘The teacher was frightened, I saw it in her eyes.’

‘Did you say … possessed?’ Meryem repeated slowly.

‘Yes, it was so bad I had to go and talk to the headmaster. He kept asking me questions about my family situation. Is it because I can’t cope with my mother’s death? Or is it my father? Is there something he needs to know? Am I experiencing problems at home? Oh God, he asked me so many personal questions, I wanted to leap on him and tell him to shut up.’

Fiddling with her bracelet, Meryem furrowed her brow in thought. When she looked up again, there was a sparkle in her eyes, a rosy glow to her cheeks. ‘I understand now,’ she said with a new intensity. ‘I think I know what the problem is.’





Fig Tree