Orhan； I wasn’t awkward in my father’s embrace； like a fruit unaccustomed to
its tree。 I was delighted； I recalled how my father and I would often embrace；
sniffing each other’s skin。 I was on the verge of tears； but restrained myself。
Though I hadn’t planned to say anything of the sort； I said：
“e now； let’s hear you call Black ”Father。“”
The night was so cold and our courtyard was so very silent。 In the distance
dogs were barking and howling pitifully and sorrowfully。 A few more minutes
passed。 The silence bloomed and spread secretly like a black flower。
“All right； children；” I said much later。 “Let’s go inside so we all don’t catch
cold out here。”
It wasn’t only Black and I who felt the timidity of a bride and groom left
alone after the wedding； but Hayriye and the children； all of us； entered our
home hesitantly as though it were the darkened house of a stranger。 We were
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met with the smell of my father’s corpse； but nobody seemed to be aware of
it。 We silently climbed the stairs； and the shadows cast onto the ceiling by our
oil lamps； as always； spun and merged； now expanding； now shrinking； yet
seemed somehow to be doing so for the first time。 Upstairs； as we were
removing our shoes in the hall； Shevket said：
“Before I go to sleep can I kiss my grandfather’s hand？”
“I checked in on him ju