The word is silver, the silence is gold

Chapter 5

The word is silver, the silence is gold

Giulia

The day flew by. Soon I would have to leave for home, face the crowded subway and the heat; I was even too lazy to go out. The heels had already blistered my feet, I was a wreck. Suddenly my office door opened. It was the Turk.

"Are you going?" he stopped at the door and asked me.

"Yes, in a moment." He came into the room, and I looked up to observe his strange behavior.

"I wanted to thank you for doing what you could with the old man. I couldn't thank you until now." I lifted my chin after that look and crossed my arms.

"It's a shame they'll have to build mansions around a poor house, but it's his right."

"Yes, but my office fails as conciliators if he remains unsold, and I have to break the bad news. But I noticed something..."

"Yes?" I was curious as to why he continued to pay so much attention to me.

"You managed to get from him the reason; until then nobody knew."

"Maybe they didn't hear what he had to say."

"I wonder if you can get him to sell it." He made these cute little expressions of someone who wanted favors. The worst part was that he was extremely sexy even though he looked like a lost dog.

"I don't know..."

"Did you get the document to translate?" he crossed his arms.

"Yes, but it's so long, I'll need a few days."

"Okay, but you have five days. I hope you do your best, I need this." He looked around. "I thought of..." He stared at me with the same dog face that fell off the move, and then walked away. "Maybe you can get that old man to sell the house. Shall we try?"

My legs under the table were already dangling, impatient as I was. What did he mean that he wouldn't say at once? Finally, he slid his hand through the door and left, flashing me a wavering smile. Serkan closed the door behind him. I stopped and wondered what had happened. Had he come to my office only to ask if I would leave already? Or that I could convince the old man to sell the house? It didn't seem like either, but I couldn't stand there guessing; I had to get home. I gathered my things and left.

As I reached the street, I heard a car pull up beside me. I looked over, smoothing my hair. It was him.

"Giulia, will you have tea with me?"

"Tea? I don't drink tea," I answered.

"Hmm, what do you drink in this country?"

I thought about it and maybe I would regret it.

"Açaí."

"Is it iced?"

He had an undeniable charm, even when he had doubts, even when he was upset. I stood in front of the car door and stared at him. This didn't seem like a good idea, but it would be one more in the list of bad ideas I used to have.

"Do you want to try it?"

"Yeah, sure. Come on in."

I put my hand on the doorknob and heard the latch open. As we entered, he began to talk while I pulled on my seat belt.

"Then you can tell me how you intend to convince the man."

I released the seat belt gently, closing my eyes. Would it be too much to ask that a man be nice for once in his life and not be thinking about business even when having icecream? At that moment, I understood his interest in the tea; he just wanted me to get something important for his work. I squatted down on the stool and huffed.

"Sure, convince the man..."

He started the car, and further on, I pointed to an icecream shop so that he could stop and get it over with. He did. Serkan looked at everything with curiosity, but with little desire.

"Choose a syrup, a side dish, a cookie, and voila!" I said quietly.

"Is that all? It's beet-colored."

"But it's not beet. Order one, sir."

"I'll try yours."

We stared at each other for a while. All the kisses from the nightclub came back to my memory when I just wanted to forget. And as soon as the guy handed me my glass of acai, he asked me to try one.

"Let me see if I´ll have this."

Serkan put his hand in my spoon, without permission, and put my spoonful in his mouth, not knowing if he would like it.

"By Allah, how do you like it? It tastes like dirt."

He made some very funny faces of disgust, and it was impossible not to laugh.

"Anyone who doesn't like pistacchio is crazy."

" So you're crazy. That's too bad, I prefer chocolate"

I put the spoon in my mouth smiling, but lowering my head trying not to laugh at him anymore, after all, he was my boss. He ordered an ice cream and as soon as the wait began, Serkan started looking at me non-stop. I believe he wanted to ask me something, but just kept turning the car keys in his right hand, doing his best not to stare at me. As soon as his ice cream was ready, we went to sit at a little white plastic table.

" So, what are you going to do about the old man? " he asked.

I looked into his eyes, and only then did I remember the man from the land.

" I don't know, maybe you have a better idea because nothing comes to mind."

He flashed a sarcastic smile without looking at me.

" Aren't americans the business experts? That's what I heard."

I stopped the spoon inside my glass of pistacchio and didn't wait to hear anything else. He had just spoken badly about my people. Only Americans can speak badly about America, no one else. He was not American, so he was off the list of people who could talk bad things about my country. I felt deeply accused, demeaned, outraged. I got up from my chair and walked towards the subway, throwing away the açaí in a garbage can. I heard him calling. Didn't stop. I kept walking angrily, then felt a hand touching my arm.

" Don't touch me! You called me corrupt!"

I turned to him and because we were so close, we bumped into each other causing his ice cream to turn in his white shirt under his jacket.

" Oh my God, I'm sorry!"

" No, no Giulia, I should apologize!"

" Your shirt!"

He held my arms out, making me look at him.

" Never mind the shirt! I have dozens just like it! I just want you to understand that I'm a rude person sometimes and I need to apologize for what I said."

We stared at each other so close that I could kiss him. People rushed past us, hurrying to get home, however, for the two of us, there was no one else there. I was hurt again, and he wanted an apology. How can you apologize for something that was said with every intention to hurt? I noticed his beard, his twitching lips waiting for an answer, the pleading look in his eyes.

" Why is my apology important to you?"

" Because you are my first friend in this country. It is important that you forgive me."

" It is important that you begin to measure your words. I forgive you, let me go."

He raised his hand and I walked toward the subway, wanting to cry. How could I have taken an interest in and kissed such a prejudiced and vile man? I was hating myself more than I hated him, but whenever we met and Serkan wanted to say something, it never seemed to be what he really meant. He did it again. It was as if the old man was just an excuse to be near me, or I wanted that to be the reason.

The fact was that I was absolutely falling for him and I didn't want to admit it to myself. He wasn't going to change, he wasn't going to see me with new eyes. He was my boss and I needed to put that in the back of my mind, I needed to forget those kisses once and for all. When he thought of me, Serkan thought of his business as a lawyer. He had erased from his mind that we had been so attracted to each other that we had kissed that night.

When I got home, I was exhausted. I went to the shower with a double sense of defeat. I was not responsible for the old man selling his house, but I was also not convincing enough to make him want to sell. If I thought of alternatives, maybe.

But after being insulted, what I wanted was for Serkan to go down. Very badly. Jaqueline came out of her room and noticed my face.

"What a frown, my sister, is work going well?"

"Nothing is going well, nothing ever goes well for me."

-"What a difficult day... Do you want to watch a soap opera with me?" Bay yanlis with the hot guy Can Yaman came out.

"We've been waiting a long time for this soap opera, haven't we?"

"Very much."

Anyway, I went to her room to watch TV. The proximity to my reality of those soap operas was immense. Why do female employees always fall in love with their boss? What a hackneyed and... delicious cliché. I smiled to myself. The fact was that I did not know Serkan as his employee, so I did not fit in well with those romantic comedies. My case was more like a dark drama or a horror movie. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry at my life. I think both would fit the situation. After the first long episode, I fell asleep in my sister's bed, and she kicked me out to my room. In the morning I remembered a nightmare: Serkan as the boss, bartender, Turkish lawyer, all in one man, yelling at me and giving me absurd orders. My brain had mixed up all the caricatured characters in my mind and concocted a soupçon of clichéd men that fit Serkan Sadik very well. I had to get up and get ready. Another day awaited me in that office.