Tempting Whispers

Where do I begin? The day doesn’t matter. But I remember it started when I grabbed my shawl to shield myself from the breeze. I had loved that shawl because it was my mother’s, not because it was valuable. You took that love away from me, didn’t you? I recall that I was heading into town to the bazaar; I needed some food. I took a step out of my one room mud hut and walked to my neighbor Emin’s house.

    “Hello, Mai. Lovely day,” Emin said.

    “Good morning, Emin. Yes, it is,” I responded.

    We exchanged pleasantries that morning like we always did. I greeted his wife, Kumari, and we all talked for a time. I was in a good mood that morning. After some time, I exited their house and walked down the muddied road towards the town square. All the roads here in Turkey were mud ever since the fall of the Roman Empire; it had been hundreds of years since then and time shaped the land into something different.

    I approached three young and attractive men who were coercing while leaning against a wooden farm fence.

    I walked by them. They looked at me with smiles. I smiled back. For a second, I thought that maybe, just maybe they found my sight pleasant. But their smiles were too high, for then they laughed and I heard one comment about how my shawl was old with holes. I turned my nose at them. One had a unibrow, one a potbelly, and one was a drunkard. I felt my stomach boil with anger. Fleas on a donkey’s ass, I thought.

    I held my shawl close and moved my fingers through the fringes. It comforted me. It reminded me of my mother. She had warned me, “Mai, if you don’t put any effort into your looks, no man will put effort into you.” I tugged at the fringes to hold back the swelling sadness I began to feel. Forgive me, Mother.

    I looked up and a wooden mule-drawn cart raced by in front of me.

    “Out of the way, silly girl! Pay attention to where you’re going!” yelled the man driving the cart.

    I brushed myself off and waved away the dust that was kicked up. I trudged into the busy town street still shaking. It was hard to breathe with dust, horse feces, and the constant bustle and congestion of people surrounding and bumping into me. I became overwhelmed and hid in a shop to catch my breath. I should’ve moved on. I shouldn’t have stayed, because that’s when I met you.

    I turned around to find a man yelling at me.

    “What are you doing in here, slave?! Where’s your master?” a man shouted.

    “I am no slave!” I yelled right back.

    “Oh, forgive me, my dear. Where are my manners?”

    He smiled to reveal slightly yellowed teeth. I returned an awkward smile back and remained silent.

    “I am Hagen, the owner of this shop,” Hagen said.

    “I am Mai,” I responded.

    “Browse, if you like.”

    I nodded and then walked around the dingy shop as to not remain in awkward silence. I felt perspiration seep through my clothes. I could feel the stench rise, but I didn’t much care. I browsed worn-down bottles, bowls, and utensils that cluttered the shelves. Then I saw something glitter out of my peripheral. I walked to the back of the shop and moved some items out of the way. There was the most gorgeous piece of pottery; white all over in a pear shape with pale blue decorations. A woman stood tall near a flourishing tree — hand extended towards it.

    “Magnificent, isn’t it?” a man behind me said.

    “Well, yes,” I answered.

    I turned around and made eye contact with this man. He had doe eyes that were brown with flecks of green which made them glisten. His eyes were so gentle and warm. I saw that he was wearing a beautiful red silk robe which complemented his dark complexion. I smiled and he returned it.

    “So,” the man uttered.

    “So?” I prompted.

    “Do you think you’re ready to take on such a prize?”

    He pointed at the vase now. I stuttered a bit and then stopped. Why should other people be allowed nice things and not me? I gently removed the vase — it was light and ever more beautiful up close.

    “Hagen, wrap this for me!” I barked.

    The shop keeper glared at my command. I dropped my coins onto his table and his eyes lit up and his attitude quickly changed.

***

    I returned home with this extravagant vase. It was radiant. I cleared out my shrine that was hollowed out in the wall and placed the vase inside. It wasn’t the best place, but it was the only place I had in my hut that did it any justice. I should not have spent my week’s earnings on this, I thought. Then I quickly extinguished that thought. No, you deserve this. When do you get nice things for yourself, Mai? I knew I’d have to work around my needed expenses for awhile. 

    I grabbed any extra candle I had and placed it around the vase to cast light upon it. I was so happy that you had helped me make the purchase, but I had never been so wrong. I blew out the candles and passed out on my bed. The next morning, I awoke early for work. I grabbed every utensil I could get my hands on and went to work. I spent at least an hour, maybe more grooming myself. I finally wanted the outside beauty to match the inside. I wasn’t going to have those men laugh at me anymore. They would see how good I can look. I plucked away at stray hairs around my eyes — ouch! I fixed my hair and gazed at my vase.

    It seemed slightly dimmer today than it did yesterday. I knew I’d have to clean it when I returned from work. I used what little makeup I had to paint my face. I grabbed my mother’s shawl and felt the tassels between my fingers; I threw it against the wall. Tattered and old — I needed something better. I placed on my finest dress. All white with embroidered red flowers across it. It was a gift for my birthday years ago when my father had come into some money. I was surprised it fit still. I must be thinner than I thought.

    I exited my house feeling anew. I remembered that my landlord needed my rent. I avoided stopping by her hut; she was plain and ugly, so I brushed her off like a bug. I had more important things to do anyhow.

***

    I arrived at the washstand, if you could call it that. The structure was stone; it had characteristics of both a trough and a pond. It was on the side of a slight hill next to a river where we would bring water to do the washing. I walked down the muddy path and all my fellow washers looked up.

    “Is that Mai?!” one girl asked.

    “Can’t be, too clean,” said another.

    The girls laughed. I walked closer and they stopped their laughing once they realized how I looked.

    “Mai, you look so lovely!” piped Sabine.

    “I apologize for my words, Mai,” said Olalla.

    I forgave them through gritted teeth. I never usually cared. If they teased me, I would tease them right back and tell them to get back to work.

    “You should all start washing again before Rosabel witnesses your procrastination,” I instructed.

    They all nodded and moved back over to the washstand. I turned around and saw my headmistress.

    “Late,” barked Rosabel.

    “I ran behind getting ready.”

    “Ready for what, whoring?”

    The girls around went dead silent. Rosabel and I locked eyes in a death stare.

    “Be careful, Rosabel, you look a little peckish. Possibly turning green with envy?” I jabbed.

    “Don’t flatter yourself you stupid girl and get to work!”

    I glared and crossed my arms. “No, I won’t work for you anymore you fat cow!”

    She stood with her mouth gaping. Rosabel was shouting, but I wasn’t listening. I had never insulted anyone or stood up for myself like that before. It felt good. Too good. I felt different, almost as if someone had taken over me and said those things. I strutted up the hill and held my dress slightly as to not have it drag on the ground. I could feel my feet sinking in the mud with each step. Don’t trip, Mai, I told myself. A cool breeze filled the air. I stopped walking and took a deep breath in. I sighed out deeply through my mouth and started walking again. What was I to do? I needed money. I racked my brain trying to think. What could I do besides get married to a rich man or be a governess to snotty children?

    I was out walking so long that the sun was setting before I realized it. Then, I awoke from my daze and noticed that I must’ve taken a wrong turn because I was then lost in the slums.

    “Hey you… yeah, you,” came a voice from behind an ally.

    “Yes?” I responded suspiciously.

    “What’s a beautiful girl like you doing here?”

    “I lost my work today and ended up turning down a wrong street.”

    The man stepped forward into what remaining sunlight was out.

    “Wrong street? I’d say you’ve found the right street! It turns out that I had a recent position open up in my establishment, but it doesn’t come free. You’d have to work for it,” the man enticed.

    He didn’t seem very trustworthy to me considering he talked as if he were a foreign enchanted tonic tradesman. But did I have a choice? I suppose now that I think of it, I did. But you were there in the back of my mind, weren’t you? Giving me inflated confidence, I could hear a voice in my head say “why not?”

    So I danced that night. They provided a beautiful silk outfit. All the women wore them so that a girl’s dancing was what defined her. It was a smoke club for the older rich Turkish merchants. I don’t know what all they smoked; nothing good I could only guess, but it didn’t matter — they paid well. There was no stage or focus area, just small tables of men in a dark lounge. The little round tables had decorated clothes over them. Sheer drapery loosely separated the tables into sections. I saw women dance and whoever the men liked best, they would keep at the table all night. They received the most money. I needed money.

    I walked to tables and danced for men. I was new and young, so they liked me and I made money. Then I saw the handsome man from the other day. He noticed me and beckoned I come over. I danced for him that night. He said little other than an occasional compliment, but he paid me well. I enjoyed my night because I felt confident being in the position of power. I was desired. It felt good.

    Before I left that night, I stole some food from an empty table. I needed to dance more before I could see enough money to get my things in order. My mother always said I was impulsive, but never this impulsive. Since when did I start new work without thoroughly thinking it through, or asking Emin and Kumari for advice? I was puzzled, but pushed away those thoughts.

    When I returned home, I lit all my candles and gazed at my vase to relax. It was like having a magnificent piece of art all to myself. It looked dirtier now. Was it dust? I made a note to myself to clean it tomorrow. I blew out the candles and fell asleep quickly that night from my long day.

    I danced all that week. I was becoming increasingly used to the atmosphere, the people, and this mysterious man. When I awoke one morning, I grabbed a few nuts to eat. It was all I had. I really needed to start buying more food again. But I was busy making my missed payments on rent. I removed my vase, grabbed a cloth, and brought it outside to clean it.

    “Hello, Mai,” said Emin.

    “Good morning,” I responded keeping my focus on my vase.

    “Just a reminder, it’s my and Kumari's celebration for our first child this week.”

    “Oh, yes. I remember, end of the work week?”

    “Yes! Cumartesi?”

    “Yes, midday on Cumartesi.”

    “I’ll be there.”

    I was thinking about how excited I was that I’d see my neighbors on the next Saturday. But then I stared into my vase and my thoughts cleared suddenly. I returned inside and placed my vase back in its home. I cleaned myself up and realized I wouldn’t have work until later, so I cleaned up my house. I was so tired that I rested on my bed and just gazed at my beautiful artwork. It still looked dark and I thought that I needed more windows to help with lighting. One thing at a time.

    I danced that night and every night for the next week. I saw girls taking off more than their veils to gain quicker attention, but I knew I wouldn’t do that. My face was pretty enough that when I danced, I didn’t need to show more than my shoulders. I kept seeing the mysterious and attractive man I had met. He was mesmerizing to be around. I looked forward to going each night for him. Each time I would go, he would compliment me and my dancing. The compliments almost became like a drug to me.

    I started to use my money to buy clothes to look better in, make up for my face to be prettier, and more candles to lighten up my vase. I had also given some money to my landlord but thought more money would come in do time. I avoided fattening foods to maintain my figure. Nothing to interfere with my looks. I slept longer from the activity of dancing, but it was worth it.

    I stumbled out of bed one morning; still holding onto my blanket, I went to my vase and stroked it — so smooth. I waltzed outside. It was cold, so I clutched my blanket. My neighbor Emin came out of his house looking angry once he saw me. He stood near me and stared. I gave him a curious look.

    “My wife missed you yesterday,” Emin seethed.

    “Oh, Emin… I overslept and completely forgot! I am so sor—…” I began.

    “Don’t begin, Mai. Just… not now.”

    I was crushed to see him walk away. He wasn’t just my neighbor. Ever since my parents passed away in a house fire during my adolescence, he watched over me for a few years while I grew into a woman. He was a close friend and I disappointed both he and his wife Kumari. I dressed for the night and walked to work. I didn’t even remember changing or walking to the smokehouse. I was fixated on how I’d treated my friend. There was a pit in my stomach as if someone had dropped a brick in my gut.

    The headmaster of the smokehouse, the one who had hired me, gave me a silk shawl when I arrived and said all the girls were wearing them. They were supposed to take them off and fling them at a man they wanted to dance for. I took it and threw it over my shoulders. I danced for a few minutes, but then started feeling light-headed. I didn’t know it at the time, but it was you who made me start this. I ate less and grew weary, I danced every night for hours and grew tired, and I slept odd hours which exhausted me mentally. I turned around and saw women throwing off their shawls, their shirts, their skirts. Time started moving sluggishly.

    “Hey sweetheart, why don’t you show us what’s under that pretty little skirt?” a man demanded.

    When would this end? My confidence was becoming my degradation. I turned around and made eye contact with the same mysterious man. He didn’t look like he usually did. He looked… sinister. I thought of failing Emin and Kumari, of my old boss I degraded, of the shop keeper I insulted, and everyone I had hurt. I pulled my shawl on tighter and felt… tassels? — mother… how I miss you dearly. I felt as if the weight of a hundred stones plummeted onto my shoulders.

    I awoke from the floor, passed out from exhaustion. I looked around and the mysterious man was gone. The headmaster pulled me up by my arm and threw me outside. My head cleared and I started to comprehend his raving words. Apparently I shamed the smokehouse in front of an important Turkish politician with a Byzantine diplomat. I stood up from the trash infested street and made my way home. It was cold on the walk back; it made me shiver. It wasn’t dark yet, but my clothes were thin. The shivering began from the cold and turned into rage. I knew who was responsible for me turning into this and I would uproot them.

***

    “So, here I am, confronting you. This all began because of you! I just wanted to feel pretty, to be desired, to be noticed — and you turned me into something terrible,” I yell.

    Tears stream down my face. I feel awful, like I had become someone else.

    “I rebuked everyone I knew for what, vanity? Well, that leaves you rather friendless. I didn’t need this, I was happy before you!”

    I pace the room and run my fingers through my hair. 

    “Silence? I expected as much. What do you have to say for yourself?!” I scream.

    I look over at it. The vase stares back blankly. I know it won’t talk back, but it plagues me, so it has to be alive. I lean in and stare at it. It’s black now. Didn’t I clean it time and time again these past two weeks? How could it be like charcoal now? The woman on the vase seems to be pointing at something. It’s a serpent. It starts to move… she’s handing out something, no… taking something? It’s a mirror. Her face glows and she gives her heart to the serpent.

    “I chose this, didn’t I?” I whimper.

    I get so angry that I pick up the vase and glare at it.

    “Do you think you own me? I am owned by NO ONE. You may have talked me into this, but I will have no part of it any longer!”

    I take the vase and raise it over my head. I start to hurl it towards the wall — frozen in time, I feel it slip through my fingers. So smooth and beautiful, I can almost feel it scream for me to save it. It smashes against the wall. I immediately feel my lungs expand like a breath of fresh air is returning to me. I collect the pieces into a burlap sack and sigh. I feel so light now.

    I walk over and look in the mirror. Disgusting! So much makeup, so I grab a cloth and clean my face. I remove my clothes; they were of gaudy patterns anyhow. I put on my favorite simple dress and grab my mother’s old shawl. It’s still tattered — beautiful. I love it. 

    I grab the burlap sack and race outside feeling invigorated. I decide to write Emin and Kumari a letter to apologize. It wouldn’t fix the wrong, but it was better than not apologizing. And papyrus was expensive, even scraps, so I hoped that by using something valuable, it was honoring to them to show that they are worthy of the effort. 

    I start running once more; this time, down the street to head to the washstands. I remember the men who laughed at me and think, I’m not here to please them, I’m here to please myself. I want to make it to the washstands before nightfall which is when my old boss leaves. I see her carrying a laundry basket on the path to her home. I sprint to catch up to her.

    “Rosabel! I feel compelled to extend my apologies for my behavior last week. It was unacceptable,” I say.

    She turns around and sizes me up.

    “Thank you for apologizing. You’re not the only one to blame,” she sighs. “I insulted you as well and that was wrong of me. It has been weighing on my conscience these past weeks.”

    We both stand in silence.

    “Rosabel… regarding my previous position…”

    “The girls misbehave and you were the only one who kept them in order. Be here tomorrow — early. We speak no more of this.”

    I nod and she walks away. I walk down to the river and lift the burlap sack filled with broken vase inside and stare at it. For a moment, I swear I can hear it whispering to me. I shiver and launch it into the nearby river. Farewell, demon. I pull my shawl tighter and play with the tassels. Then I suddenly remember what my mother truly told me. “Mai, if you don’t put any effort into loving yourself first, no man will put effort into loving you.”

    I think I finally understand, mother.