The Island of Missing Trees(66)

‘Is everything okay?’ asked Ada.

‘Uhm, I lost something and now I can’t find it. I hate technology!’

Ada plopped herself down on the other end of the sofa, holding a novel in her hand – one she had heard a lot about. She had got into it just the night before. Now she lifted her book up so that it hid most of her face, the eyes of Sylvia Plath looking straight into Aunt Meryem from the cover.

A minute passed, Meryem sighed.

‘Do you need any help?’ Ada asked.

‘I’m fine,’ replied Meryem curtly.

Ada buried her head in her book. For a while, neither of them spoke.

‘Oh, why am I even trying? It’s gone!’ Meryem rubbed her temples. ‘All right, give me a hand, please, but don’t judge me.’

‘Why should I judge you?’

‘Just saying.’ Meryem put her phone between them. ‘I deleted an app by mistake. I think that’s what happened. I’m trying to get it back but I don’t want to pay all that money again. What do I do?’

‘Let’s see. What’s it called?’

‘I don’t know. It has a blue thing on it.’

‘That’s not very helpful. What’s it for, then?’

Meryem smoothed down her skirt. ‘Oh, I use it to ward off the evil eye.’

Ada’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Seriously? There’s an app for that?’

‘I knew you were going to judge me.’

‘I’m just trying to get my head around it.’

‘Well, it’s a modern world. Everyone is busy. Sometimes you’re in a hurry, you don’t have time to light incense. Or there is no salt to sprinkle. Or maybe you’re in polite company and you can’t spit. The app does all of that for you.’

‘You mean it burns digital incense, sprinkles digital salt and spits in the air digitally?’

‘Yes, kind of.’

Ada shook her head. ‘So how much did you pay for this scam?’

‘It’s a subscription, every month I renew it. And I’m not telling you the amount. Whatever I say, you’re going to think it’s too much.’

‘Of course I will. Don’t you see they are taking you for a ride? You and hundreds, maybe thousands of gullible people!’

A quick search revealed dozens of similar apps, some for protection, others to bring good luck, and others to read coffee grounds, tea leaves or wine sediments. Ada found the deleted app and downloaded it again – without paying anything.

‘Oh, thank you,’ said Meryem, the frown lifting from her features. ‘When God wants to please a poor soul, He lets him lose his donkey and helps him find it again.’

Ada traced the lines on the cover of her book, her fingertip tracking down its spine. ‘Tell me about my grandmother. Was she like you? Did she fear something bad could happen any time?’

‘Not really,’ said Meryem, her eyes brightening with the recollection and then clouding over again. ‘My mother used to say, even if the entire world goes crazy, Cypriots will remain sane. Because we washed each other’s babies. We picked each other’s harvests. Wars break out between strangers who don’t know each other’s names. Nothing bad can happen here. So, no, your grandmother was not fearful like me. She didn’t see any of it coming.’

Ada studied her aunt, noticing a slight drop in her shoulders.

‘You know what I was thinking? I have this history homework and maybe you could help me with it.’

‘Really?’ Meryem placed her hand on her chest as if flattered by an unexpected compliment. ‘But will I know the answer?’

‘It’s not a quiz. More like an interview. I’ll just ask you a few questions about where you come from, what it was like when you were a young girl, that kind of stuff.’

‘I can do that, but don’t you think you should ask your father?’ said Meryem cautiously.

‘Father doesn’t tell me much about Cyprus. But you can.’

Thus saying, Ada sat back and grabbed her book again. She spoke from behind the pages of The Bell Jar, her voice rough and retreating.

‘Otherwise, I’m not coming to that exorcist with you.’





Psychic


Cyprus, early 2000s


Two days later, as the evening prayer reverberated from the nearby mosques in Nicosia, Kostas met Defne and Meryem in front of the Büyük Han. He was surprised to see that the historical inn – built by the Ottomans as a caravanserai, converted by the British into a city prison – had become an arts, crafts and shopping centre. At a cafe inside the ancient courtyard they each had a glass of linden tea.

Meryem sighed as she cast Kostas a sidelong glance. She had been unusually silent since they met, but she could not hold back any longer. ‘Imagine my surprise when Defne said you were back. I couldn’t believe my ears! I told her to stay away from you. I’m saying the same thing to your face. Stay away from her. God knows, you make me nervous, Kostas Kazantzakis. You left her when she was pregnant –’

Eyes glittering, Defne interjected, ‘Abla, stop it. I told you not to bring that up.’

‘Okay, okay.’ Meryem lifted both hands in the air. ‘So, Kostas, forgive me for asking, I know it’s rude, but when are you returning to England? Soon, I hope.’