text: Lucine “Stop fidgeting or you’ll wind up with this needle in your back.” “Is our young lady a little nervous?” “You stop teasing, Poppa.” “There, now let’s have a look at you.” Kristine stepped to the portal, leaned against the jamb, and posed. “Tell me again, where’d you meet this boy?” “The Saturday night dance about a month ago.” “Seen him since?” “Again at the dance and at a basketball game.” “And now he’s asked you out?” “Yes, to see Spellbound at the Lincoln.” “The Lincoln?” “Yes, Poppa.” “What’s his name?” Kristine pretended not to hear her mother. “Kristine? What’s his name?” “Sevi.” “What kind of name is that?” “It’s short for Sevda.” “That’s a Turkish name!” “So?” “Is he a Turk?” “He’s American.” “Where are his parents from?” “His father’s from Turkey; his mother passed away five years ago.” “Kristine? A Turk? Those barbarians killed your father and brother.” “Sevi’s not a barbarian. He’s gentle, and he treats me like a lady.” “We crossed an ocean to get away from the Turk, settled in the Dardanelles among Armenians and Syrians and even Italians, and the first boy you bring home is a Turk. Didn’t you think I might be a little upset?” “I knew you would. If it was up to me, I would’ve told you I was going to the movies with friends. Sevi insisted he meet you and Poppa.” “But he’s a Turk.” “Lucine, he chose to meet the family. He’s taking her to the Lincoln, and not the City Theater. Give him a chance. What’ve you got to lose?” All three turned to look to the portal leading into the hall which led to the front door upon hearing the knock. Kristine turned to her mother and made one last appeal. “Fix your hair. Your father’ll show him in.” Kristine and Sarkis departed, the former to her bedroom; the latter to welcome their visitor. Sevi entered the kitchen carrying a single rose in tissue paper. Trailing were Kristine and Sarkis. “Momma, this is Sevi. Sevi, Momma. “I’m pleased to meet you, Mrs. Yaldizian. This is for you.” Sevi handed his rose to Lucine; Sarkis noticed a trace of a smile on Lucine. “Have a seat, Sevi.” “Yes, please sit down, and tell us about your family.” “No, we don’t have time, Momma. We want to catch the first show, so I can be home early. Okay, Poppa?” “You look after our Kristine, young man.” “Yes, sir! I’ll have her home before eleven.” “Go!” They left; Sarkis rejoined his wife. “Let’s have coffee and cake.” Lucine fetched the coffee from the stove and cheese cake from the fridge. Sarkis tried again. “This cheese cake’s from the Swiss Bakery?” “Yes.” “And you love it?” “Yes.” “And last night we had Italian pizza and enjoyed that?” “Swiss and Italian are not Turkish.” “You can’t fool me, Kristine.” “What are you talking about?” “You may be able to hide it from yourself, but you can’t hide it from me. You’re softening. What did it, the rose?” “But will I stay soft? Already, I’m thinking this man’s father may have taken my husband and son from me and killed them. When I heard he was Turkish, the image which came to mind was those soldiers arresting my husband and demanding I undress the babies to see if either was male. Am I destined to revisit that scene every time I see that boy?” “What is the probability his kin destroyed yours? Even if they did, should the sins of the father be visited upon the son? What does your faith teach you: to forgive your enemies, no?” “You should talk about forgiving your enemies. He does seem like a nice boy, though?” “And he’s taking her to the Lincoln, not the City.” Sarkis read the paper. Lucine husked an ear of corn. Kristine stood at the screen door listening to the surf, breathing in the salt scented air. “Thank you, Poppa.” “For what?” “For this week down the shore. It’s the best graduation present you could’ve given me.” “I worked too, you know, to be here.” Kristine gave her mother a hug and stepped back. “Thank you, Momma.” “When’s Sevi coming?” “He said he’d leave after he helped his father put the baskets of fruit and vegetables outside the store. He should be here soon.” Kristine turned back to the screen door, but instead of looking to the ocean, bowed her head and drew her mother’s attention. “Kristine. He’ll be here soon.” “Love is impatient you know.” “Momma, Poppa, I’ve something serious to tell you.” Sarkis set his newspaper down; Lucine, her ear of corn. “You two had a quarrel?” “No! We’ll never quarrel. Poppa, Sevi has something to ask you.” “What could be so important you have to pave the way?” “He intends to ask for my hand in marriage.” “It’s out of the question. You’re both too young.” “He’s going to ask Poppa, not you, Momma.” “Kristine, I’m only your stepfather. What your mother decides is what Sevi will hear.” Lucine advanced to stand a few inches before her daughter. “The answer is no. You’re both too young, and it’s too soon. You’ve known him only six months.” “Sevi’s earning a decent salary working for the Mahmarians. In September, he begins night classes towards a business degree. I start next week in the embroidery shop. We’ll do fine. And you like him. We know you like him.” “I do like him. God knows, I never thought I could like a Turk again. He does touch me. But, still, it’s too soon. I want to know him better. We need to know his family better.” “You’ve been to their store. You’ve met his father.” “Yes, for ten minutes, to buy pomegranates. I said less than ten words to the man. No, you need to wait.” “We can’t wait.” Lucine almost collapsed into the chair. “What have you done?” Kristine looked guiltily at Sarkis and spoke barely above a whisper. “I’m two months pregnant.” “Kristine!” responded Sarkis, shocked. “You ought to be ashamed. Didn’t I teach you virginity is for your husband?” “I’m not ashamed. I gave it willingly, to my husband. Sevi loves me more than any man ever could, and I love him. “He’s nothing but a barbarian.” “No, he’s kind, gentle; it was beautiful, and I’m not ashamed. I wish we could’ve waited, but love is impatient.” “Oh, Kristine.” “I’m sorry to disappoint you, truly sorry, but I’m not ashamed.” “Only two months?” “Yes.” “If it’s only two months.” “I’m having this child, Momma.” All three looked to the screen door when they heard a car pull up. Kristine hurried to finish. “We want to marry as soon as possible to save you any shame.” “Sevi must not ask your father until this evening. We need to talk about it. Not until this evening, you hear?” “Yes.” Sevi knocked on the screen door, and Kristine opened it and welcomed him. He held in one hand a gym bag; in the other, a white cake box. He could sense the chill in the air. He stepped to the opposite side of the table to greet Sarkis, who neither stood nor offered his hand, but tried to bridge the gap. “Sevi, I know you wish to ask me something important. It must wait until this evening.” The young man looked to Kristine, who managed to nod. “Yes, Mr. Yaldizian.“ He turned to Mrs. Yaldizian. “The cake’s from the Swiss Bakery; your favorite, a crumb cheese cake.” “Thank you. I think you and Kristine ought to go to the beach now. Mr. Yaldizian and I have to talk.” Sevi followed Kristine out of the room. “What do you think, Sarkis?” “They think they’re Romeo and Juliet.” “You mean Adam and Eve playing at love.” “I don’t think they’re playing.” “They’re like mirrors reflecting each other’s love.” “Is not all love like that?” “Not all love.” Kristine re-entered the living room and for a moment exchanged stares with her mother. “Kristine, put the coffee on.” Kristine left and quickly returned to set the table and cut the cake. “It’s not a bribe, Momma. Sevi truly likes you and wishes to please you. And Poppa, he has much respect for you.” “If Sevi respected me, you wouldn’t need to get married.” For the first time, Kristine displayed a sign of guilt, but was rescued by Sevi, who strode into the room in a swim suit, carrying a towel. “Sevi, there’s a law in town prohibiting men from walking bare-chested in town. It could cost you three dollars.” “Thanks, Mr. Yaldizian, I need to save all the money I can now.” Sevi turned to smile at Kristine before leaving to get his t-shirt. Lucine stood visibly shocked, swooned, and almost feinted before grabbing hold of the table to support her. “Momma, don’t worry. It’ll be alright.” Lucine sat down and looked up as though awaking from a nightmare. “What? No, I’m alright. It’s your news; it takes a little getting used to.” Sevi returned in t-shirt and swimsuit. “All set!” “I don’t know; Momma doesn’t feel good.” “No, I’ll be alright. You two go ahead.” “I’ll look after your mother.” “Okay, Poppa. I’ll be just a minute.” Kristine left to change and all was silent for a moment before Lucine spoke. “Sevi, I couldn’t help but notice the tattoo on your right shoulder.” “Oh? You mean my birthmark.” “I thought it was a tattoo because it seemed shaped like.” “Like a butterfly? My mother said it was God’s mark of my transformation. I asked her what transformation; she answered God only knows?” Kristine returned dressed in swim suit covered by a knee high robe. “We’ll be back about five, then, okay?” “What? Oh, yes. You enjoy the beach.” Sarkis, less concerned with his stepdaughter’s indiscretion and more with his wife’s well being, questioned Lucine. “You alright?” “My unmarried daughter is pregnant, in danger of going to hell. She wishes to marry a Turk, and you ask if I’m okay?” “Lucine, don’t take it out on me.” “I’m sorry, honey. Just give me a little time.” “You want to talk?” “I need to think. Then we’ll talk.” They sat in silence while Sarkis ate his slice of the crumb cheese cake and sipped his coffee. Lucine looked at the cake, picked up her piece, put it back down, turned, and looked toward the screen door. Sarkis tried once again to find solace. “It could be worse. He could’ve not wanted to marry her.” “Yes, it could be much worse.” “You know if we don’t give them our blessing, they’ll get married anyway?” “I know.” “So, doesn’t it make more sense to bless the marriage and keep them near than to not bless it and drive them away?” She turned again and looked to the screen door. She seemed to be contemplating something other than the question Sarkis had just posed. “I’m going to walk down to the bay. You want to come?” “No, Sarkis! I need to think about what you’ve just said. Sarkis took up the newspaper, tucked it under his arm, and left. Seconds later, Lucine dropped from the chair to her knees, lifted her hands clasped together against her breast, looked to the ceiling, and released the pent up emotion. “Thank God! My son alive! Ari, alive! Right here in my house!” No two boys could’ve had the same birthmark in the same place. Ari had been given to a family to be raised as a Turk. She had had to check her impulse to rain kisses all over him. “Because Ari lives, I thank God. But I also curse God. Yes, I curse you for a gift tainted with defilement. How could you have done this to me, to them?” Should she tell them you cannot marry because you’re brother and sister; because you’ve committed incest? Would they believe her? Her daughter had little joy in life; should she take away the sweetest she’s known? And should she condemn her son with forbidden knowledge? Would they respect her for deliverance or hate her? But if she said nothing, they’d continue to live in sin. But is it a sin? They don’t know what they’re doing. They’re so innocent and so much in love. What if she told them and they refused to part? Then they’d lose their innocence and be damned. What if she told them, and they gave the child up and separated? Then, she’d be taking away their love; neither would ever find another like it. And if she did that, she knew they’d both hate her forever. But if she didn’t tell them, and they continued to love and have children, could she bear witness to what she knew was profane? What then would happen to her soul? She needed to talk with someone, but whom? Sarkis? It wouldn’t be fair. No! She’d work it out alone. She looked toward the ceiling. “Yes, alone, because you, damn you, are silent again.” Late that evening all four sat at table, having completed the evening meal. Sevi could no longer be constrained. “Mr. Yaldizian, I have something I wish to ask you.” Sarkis looked to Lucine, who nodded permission. “What is it, Sevi?” “I ask for Kristine’s hand in marriage. I love her very much. I apologize for things as they are, but there are so because we love each other. I’ll take good care of her and our family. We wish to marry quickly to spare you humiliation. We want very much to have your blessing. But I wouldn’t be honest if I didn’t add, whether or not you give your blessing, we will be married.” “Is there anything else?” “Only to repeat I will love Kristine all my life and take care of her and ours.” “Kristine is my step-daughter; therefore, my decision is to do whatever Mrs. Yaldizian says. Lucine?” “Your father has been in favor of giving you our blessing from the beginning. I’ve hesitated. But now I too give you my blessing.” Kristine began to walk toward her mother before the latter stopped her by raising her hand. “But there is a condition.” “What condition?” “Sevi, you’ve become dear to us. But a cloud hangs over us; I’m afraid it will hang over your marriage. It’s impossible for me to divorce myself from the past, to pretend you’re other than what you are. I can’t look at you and see just a fine young man who loves my daughter. I cannot help it; for me, you’ll always walk in the shadow of the past. So, I’ll bless your marriage on the condition you make and fulfill a promise.” “Anything, Mrs. Yaldizian.” “You must promise, once you and Kristine wed, to take her and live away from Union City.” “Momma!” “Lucine, what’s come over you?” “But, Momma!” “Honey, I love you. It’s because I love you both I make this condition. I wouldn’t want anything to destroy that love, and I’m afraid, for me, the shadow of the past might do just that. Do you promise, Sevi?” Sevi looked once more to Kristine, but she was not able to help him. “I promise.” Kristine walked out of the room. “Lucine! Do you realize what you’re doing, what you’re asking the children to do?” “It’s not something I want to do; it’s something I have to do.” “Sevi, do you have any idea where you’ll go, what you’ll do?” “Yes. My cousin wanted me to come with him to California, where he’s going to open a rug business.” “So far?” Lucine looked up at Sevi startled. “I know it’s far, but he said it’d be a great opportunity. Kristine and I dismissed the idea because we didn’t think the move would make you or Mrs. Yaldizian happy. Now, I’ll accept his offer.” “That sounds like a good idea, a good future.” Kristine returned holding her small suitcase. Her mother was having trouble keeping up with the quick turn of events.” “Where you going? “I’m leaving with Sevi. We’ll drive home, I’ll pack my things; we’ll get married in Maryland. We’ll tell everyone we were married when I graduated high school. Our child will be born on time. And his grandmother will live free of the shadow of the past.” Kristine started toward the screen door; Sevi followed behind. Sarkis stopped them. “Kristine, your mother loves you.” Kristine ran to her mother. They embraced. Sevi followed, and Lucine embraced him before reluctantly letting go. Kristine turned to Sarkis and hugged him. Sevi followed and extended his hand toward Sarkis to shake his hand, but the latter brushed it aside and enfolded him in his arms. “Do not try to understand. Just believe we love you both.” “Yes, sir.” “You must write at least once a week and let us know how you, and the family, are. Do you promise?” “Yes.” “Now, you two go with our blessing and our love.” Kristine and Sevi left the cottage. Lucine, after a few seconds, rushed to the screen door and looked out at Sevi’s car moving away from the ocean toward the long road that would carry them to California. She began to weep. Sarkis moved behind her and cradle her in his arms. “You know, when I was a small boy in Marash, I once came upon a beautiful butterfly in the wood. Its wings were a fiery pattern of reds, oranges, and yellows reflecting the blaze of the mid-day sun. I felt it to be an incarnation of God. It was perched upon the branch of a cedar for only a few seconds. It fluttered its wings and flew away, and I never saw it again. But it’s been with me all these years.” Lucine turned and rested her head upon Sarkis’s chest.