Finding Atlantis - 12. Chapter 12

The dolmus was something in between a bus and a private taxi. Tickets were cheap and it was the best way to get from town to town. Aziz caught the second one of the day, eight o’clock sharp from the taxi rank and ended up squeezed into the back corner next to a woman who had on her lap a wicker basket containing three little ginger kittens. As the bus lurched into motion they chatted amiably about their plans for the day ahead. The woman was going to the vet’s to get the kitten’s injections done and to get them collars as she didn’t want them becoming unwelcome strays like many of the animals around the place. She was also going to see her sister. Aziz was rather vague about his intentions, but he did mention going down the harbour, and possibly buying presents for his mother, whom everyone knew.

The ride was bumpy at best and frankly dangerous at most, as much of the time the dolmus fought for the road with ten-ton trucks that crumbled the edge of the road into the sea, small cars, kids on motor scooters and men herding goats. Aziz shut his eyes and tried not to think too hard about the journey. He was sort of used to the constant risk and the dangers, but after the safety of being at sea so much lately it was a shock to be thrown into the busy world on land.

It was only nine by the time they pulled up in Kalkan. Aziz staggered out of the bus and made his way to the Tomato café where he ordered two coffees and drank them both straight away to get rid of the lingering feeling that he was going to be sick. The shortest way to the harbour was steep and actually quite dangerous, especially at night. Aziz tried not to worry too much, taking the curved steep skidding path down to the dock, trying not to give into the deadly urge to run. Start running here and you’d never stop, run yourself right into a car or a boat or the water.

Captain Ali’s boat was not hard to spot, moored as it was right on the corner of the roughly square harbour, cast onto the jetty with two secure ropes and gangplank for the foreign tourists. Ali and his crew simply jumped from boat to shore and back again, knowing their way around the vessel same as most people knew their way around their own house. He called out when he was still a little way from the ship, giving himself time to be recognised.

“Hoy Ali!”

Ali appeared on the prow of the boat, grabbing hold of the headstay and leaning out over the water, which was his typical stance whenever anyone called for him on his boat. Ali was wearing his random turquoise beach shorts again, and a t-shirt that, once red, was now a weird splotchy pink. Aziz had actually dressed for the occasion, nothing sea worthy, dark linen trousers, white shirt and a sky blue overcoat that fell past his knees in four panels and had a long row of jet buttons rising to the collar. He’d left half the buttons undone, smart, but not stifling in the heat. Dark leather shoes finished off the image.

“Hoy there Aziz Shad. And welcome my friend.” Ali gave him an appraising eye, “And you are not dressed for a day’s work, what can have happened?”

“My brothers are taking the boat out today. I got Yusuf to take my place, much to his annoyance.”

“Your young brother is changeable and volatile as the tide.” Ali said sagely, “But what of you my young friend, to come and see me on such a day and so handsomely dressed.”

“I have a question for you Ali.”

Captain Ali bowed from his perch on the guard rail.

“Then come aboard and there shall be tea,” he dropped his voice, “In a civilized manner. I feel most underdressed.”

They sat at the long table amidships that was generally, as on the Aikaterine, used for the passengers, sipping tea from the tiny, impractical glasses. Ali put more sugar in his than Aziz thought possible and drank with small delicate sips.

“So now, what does this handsome man have to offer me?” Ali sat back, smiling wide and suddenly Aziz found the words bubbling up and out of him and wondered how he’d managed to put off saying them for so long.

“I want to ask you if I can marry Shalla.”

Ali looked stunned and an uncomfortable silence descended.

“Now I was being led to understand,” Ali spoke in slow, measured tones, “That your young friend Krilla and my eldest were sweet on each other.”

“Ah…” Aziz hadn’t really thought how he was going to cover this, “Well, not really sir. We’ve talked about it, but he considers Shalla to be just a friend.”

“And does she know that?”

“Oh Daddy!” Shalla, lovely and slender and brown, wearing a white cheesecloth shift bunched up around the top of loose denim slacks, “I’ve always loved Aziz!” Shalla went to her father’s side and kissed the top of his head, then crossed to sit with Aziz, beaming as he slid a nervous arm around her waist.

“Well now,” Ali looked quite flustered, “Well indeed. Yes!”

Shalla threw her arms around Aziz’s neck and kissed him hungrily.

“Oi!” They were reprimanded, but Ali’s tone was hardly severe, “None of that on my ship!”

Shalla laughed and Aziz grinned like a child, burying his face in the fragrant mass of her hair.

*

When Aziz and Shalla, arm in arm and followed closely by Ali burst through the Shad house doorway Aika appeared from the kitchen, surprised, delighted, throwing her arms around her eldest son with tears of happiness and love spilling down her cheeks. That was to be the tone of the afternoon, as it was by then, the three of them having taken Ali’s ship round into Kas, stopping along the way to catch several types of fish for dinner.

And what a dinner it was going to be, Aika dropped all her plans and began to prepare food for a dinner on the Aikaterine. Aziz and Shalla sat curled up in the main room on the low cushions. They were not free to do as they liked, not yet, not even now. They would have to wait until they were married for privacy. But Aziz was over the moon anyway. He could kiss her, so he did. They were discovered giggling in each other’s arms, their tea gone cold.

Aziz was standing in the doorway when his three brothers and his father appeared from the harbour. He looked like the sun shone out of his side. He watched them for a second and then yelled across the street.

“She said yes!” He whooped triumphantly, “I’m going to marry Shalla!”

That made everyone quicken up their pace a little. Yusuf got there first, a massive hug for his oldest sibling, and Murat was the same. Aslan gave him a manly, sober handshake. Tamil was panting when he arrived on his own doorstep.

“What?”

“I’m going to marry Shalla!” Aziz said, grinning. He embraced his Father and vanished back indoors. Tamil met Ali in the hall.

“Ah…so that’s it then.”

“Indeed,” Ali replied in a soft voice, but his smile was huge, “Funny the way children think.”

“Hmmm…What about Krilla?” Tamil asked evenly.

“Yes I wondered about that,” Ali leant back against the wall, packing his pipe, “Apparently everything is talked through and they’re just friends.”

“Right,” Tamil finally made it into his own house just as Aika began to order the boys around, there were preparations to be made, a feast to be prepared, the ship needed to be cleaned up for them, someone had to go and wait for Krilla to get back so that he could be invited. Somehow everyone ended up with a massive list of jobs, including Aziz, and he was pissed about it. But not too much, Aziz found that it was hard to be annoyed too much today.

He made his way down to the harbour just as the sun was going down. Aslan was lighting up the lamps on the Aikaterine and washing down the table. Aziz sat on the low wall by the jetty where La Belle Mere would pull in and waited maybe ten minutes before there were white and blue sails coming around the curve of the harbour wall. Krilla was standing in the prow, and Aleksi was with him, half hidden behind the sails, at the tiller. The young foreigner was doing a good job of it too and Aziz thought it odd that Krilla would trust him so much, since his boat was his most prized possession.

“Hoy Krilla!”

“Aziz!” Krilla leapt onto the jetty, catching the rope Aleksi threw him one handed and pulling tight before he began to cast off. Aziz saw the way that Aleksi was moving, he was a man of the sea now. He leapt, barefoot, lightly down beside Krilla, landing crouched and rising to stand next to Aziz’s friend. Aziz couldn’t shake the feeling that he looked like, not a pet as such, but some kind of hot climate guard dog.

“I have an invitation for you,” Aziz said.

“That why you’re dressed up so pretty?” Krilla asked and Alek elbowed him gently in the ribs.

“Dinner on the Aikaterine. I’m getting married.”

Krilla let out a whoop of delight and he pulled Aziz into a tight embrace.

“Oh Aziz! Congratulations dude. Wicked.” Then his face fell a little, their cover was blown.

“Don’t worry about it dude,” Aziz said, “Now come on, where are your good clothes?”

“At your house. Shit, what’s Aleksi going to wear?” Krilla looked over his shoulder and smirked.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Aleksi said, grinning, “Not a chance my fishy friend.”

They made their way back up to the Shad household, managing to dodge being given jobs by Aika and ran up the stairs to Aziz and Aslan’s room. In a trunk at the bottom of the wardrobe were kept all the good clothes, including those which Krilla owned. Aziz brought out an outfit which was a match in style to his and tossed it to Krilla. The shirt and trousers were indigo and the coat was palest blue with lapis buttons.

“Mum bought it for him when he turned twenty,” Aziz explained, “Dude it’s so not gonna fit you now.” And indeed the coat was too slim across the shoulders and Krilla handed it to Aleksi.

“Put that on, you’ll look great.”

“But-” Aleksi began, but was shushed as the boys began digging through the trunk again. He slipped into the outfit, which fitted him well though it was a little snug and slightly too long in the trousers.

“Thank Allah we can get away without shoes,” Aziz said, “Since we’re on the boat, I’d never find anything to fit you.”

Krilla laughed and pulled out deep purple jacket with blue satin lining.

“Perfect. Shit, where are the trousers,” He dived back into the trunk, scrabbling around frantically.

Aziz had to admit, straight as he was, that Krilla looked good. White trousers and a fitted white shirt under the short purple jacket. He brushed his hair and stole some of Yusuf’s kohl to line his eyes. Aziz did the same, since it was traditional and Shalla had mentioned something about guys in eyeliner a while before.

“You two scrub up nicely,” Aziz said, grinning as Krilla stared at himself in the mirror, “Very handsome.”

Krilla grinned at him, grabbed hold of Aleksi’s collar and kissed him fiercely, but just once.

“Let’s go,” he said, breathless, grinning from ear to ear.

“Dude,” Aziz moaned, “You are way too happy. Come on.”

Between the three of them in their good gear they were required to take all the china and the cutlery down to the Aikaterine and they were nearly chased from the house by all the noise and the shouts coming from the kitchen. Aleksi thought he looked stupid, with an armful of plates, dressed in Krilla’s old gear. Aziz told him to shut up, he was fine, but Krilla smiled something that looked like a promise for later. Aziz pretended to gag. Down in the harbour the Aikaterine was awash with light, glowing paraffin lanterns hung on all the major beams, candles at strategic points on the table. They laid out all the plates, trying to avoid having their feet mopped by Murat, who was half dressed, his good shirt hanging over the rail, looking suspiciously damp along the seams. Down in the galley, Aslan was keeping a watchful eye and wooden spatula on six different bubbling pots and yelled at Krilla to get the grill started and just about managed to stop himself throwing the fish at Krilla when he realised that the blond man was already dressed in good clothes. So they started up the big grill on deck and Krilla took off his jacket while he split and cleaned the fish, trying desperately not to get oil on his trousers. Aleksi reached over, in plain view, and touched one of the fish, his fingers shining with oil as he looked at Krilla. Remembering their evening on the boat, the deep huskiness of Aleksi’s voice Krilla shivered and blushed pink behind his tan.

Yusuf arrived about then, looking rather sharp in a western cut mahogany serge suit and a black tie left loose and roguish. He had silver hoops in his ears to match the one slung through his nose, and one on the middle finger of each hand. Somehow he seemed to have avoided having to carrying anything, but that puzzle was solved as, one by one, kicking off shoes that Murat went to gather up, came Ali, Tamil, Shalla and Aika, who vanished into the hold to check on Aslan’s cooking. She called Aleksi down to help and Aslan came back upstairs, looking hot and relieved. Murat got dressed, narrowly avoiding a clip round the ear from his father, who was wondering why his shirt was damp. Shalla had gotten changed at the house and looked radiant in an outfit similar to Aziz’s own, a long panelled medium blue coat over a full length sheath dress made of finest white cotton and embroidered with dark blue silk. The colours matched what Aleksi was wearing better, and Aziz laughed, not feeling jealous in the slightest, and was rewarded with a kiss that made Aslan gape and Murat turn red. Only Yusuf, seated on the guard rail near the grill, seemed unruffled, staring coolly out at the dark sea and white stripe of the harbour wall. It was another ten minutes of idle chat and the pouring of wine before Krilla stood up to announce that the fish were done, moving them to a hot plate near the grill so they’d be hot but not burn, and shrugged into his clothes. Aziz helped him straighten his collar and then Aika emerged in the companionway and told everyone to sit, dinner was served.

Dinner for ten was a packed and noisy affair. Tamil and Ali had an end of the table each, Aika on Tamil’s left and Aslan on his right. Then Krilla and Aleksi opposite Yusuf and Murat and Shalla and Aziz next to Ali. Aleksi had looked proud when Aika said that most of the cooking power had been his and Murat coughed as the unexpected spice in the moussaka hit the back of his throat. There were maybe a dozen dishes, three types of fish, grilled, broiled and fried with lashing of wine vinegar and olive oil and lemon, a goat stew, lamb shanks, a dish of aubergine and squash, which was also rather heavily flavoured with salt, paprika and chilli. Once everyone had a full plate Tamil rose at the end of the table and raise his wine glass.

“A toast,” he announced, getting everyone’s attention, “To new friends, and old ones. To good food, and good wine, and of course for the happy couple,” Tamil smiled warmly, his voice full of emotion, “May they live out the rest of their days together now that they have each other, and may the land always bring forth plenty and may the sea always bring forth good winds and fine fish. For Aziz and Shalla.”

“Aziz and Shalla.” Everyone intoned, and they drank. Shalla was smiling, Aziz had a hand over his eyes, crying and grinning and gripping his fiancé’s hand tightly. Ali stood as Tamil sat.

“Thank you Tamil. So, gratitude to friends who are now family, or close enough, and fine praises for such a marvellous banquet on a well kept boat.” They drank again, and the wine flowed strong and rich and red and plentiful.

Talk was mainly of fish, of the tourist trade and the plans for the wedding. Aika and Shalla engaged in a long, distracted conversation across the table about dresses and fabrics and flowers that had all the men confused but for Yusuf who said that if they were going on a shopping trip to Istanbul, he was coming, like it or not.

“And where have you two been?” It was Aika who spoke, directing her piercing black gaze at Krilla and Aleksi, the two gold and blond boys at severe contrast to the rest of the company, “You been out on that thing nearly three days, and no fish.”

“Swimming,” Krilla said, putting down his glass, “Swimming and sailing. I’ve been teaching Aleksi the ropes and how to sail. You know,” he turned deep blue eyes on Aziz, “So that perhaps he can take the boat out when I come help out on The Aikaterine and we can still catch fish.”

“Did you bring us presents from the bottom of the sea again?” Shalla asked.

“Nothing to find, except one. I gave it to my new cabin boy.”

Aleksi flushed and showed the stone bangle, glaring at Krilla under lowered eyebrows.

“Cabin boy?”

“Yeah sure. I’ll get you a hat and everything.” Krilla grinned good-naturedly. He knew he was being a shade too obvious, but figured what with Aziz and Shalla that the risk was worth Aleksi’s attractive annoyance.

“Hey,” Aslan spoke up, “How come Alek gets to take La Belle Mere out by himself? You’ve only known him a week. You’d never let one of us borrow it in a thousand years Kril.”

Tense silence descended on the table. The sound of cutlery stilled, Aleksi’s gulped was audible.

“Ah…”

“Krilla,” Aika smiled at him, “I have a few bowls of salad in the galley, come help me carry them up.” Krilla stood, though he was by no means the closest to hand and had to edge around the table to get to the companionway. The galley was lit, electric unlike his own ship, and Krilla made his way around the spacious hull. Aika was right behind him, pulling the swing door shut behind her as she came in.

“What’s up with you these days Krilla?”

The fisherman rounded suddenly, hairs prickling on the back of his neck by her tone, warning, severe.

“Nothing, just enjoying a few days off from work. That’s all.”

“We all believed you in love with Shalla, but now the two of them are carrying on like they’ve been like this for years.”

“They have.” Krilla was pressed back against the counter, tense.

“Then do you want to explain to me what’s going on?”

“I was just cover. Just pretend because Aziz didn’t know if Ali would let him marry her. And it went fine.”

“But what about you Krilla? You’ve been here six years, where is your girl?” He obviously wasn’t meant to answer, even if he could think of one, “The only person outside of my family and Shalla you’ve seemed to take any consideration over that I have ever seen is that poor little blond boy out there. And I know he cares for you.”

“Hey, Aika, wait up a minute.”

“No Krilla, you listen to me now,” Aika’s tone left no room for argument, “I know about you both, and I’m not saying this for everyone up there, but most of them have worked it out too. For Allah’s sake the boy broke down in tears when he found out you were sulking in the lighthouse, damned near broke down the door trying to run after you. Tamil wasn’t too happy, and I know my man, he doesn’t like secrets. Out with it Krilla, what’s going on?”

But Krilla’s brain had fused as he connected the dots and worked out what she was saying. Everyone knows. Everyone, they know. Panic swirled into his eyes, deeper inky indigo on the dark blue, the tense strain in his shoulders resolved itself and he sprung into movement. Not thinking as he shot past Aika and out the door, deaf to anything else she might have said, uncaring of the sudden stillness of talk and laughter as he appeared in the top of the companionway. He barely looked at Aleksi, his lips forming the shape of his name, but turned and jumped across the ropes and across the rail onto the jetty. Everyone stared after him, this bright purple streak as he ran past La Belle Mere, along the harbour wall. At the end he vanished behind the lighthouse. He didn’t reappear. There was splash.

Aziz, Aleksi and Yusuf scrambled past and around each other to get off the Aikaterine, following Krilla’s frantic path. At the foot of the light house, in the shadow of the moon they found a hasty pile of clothes, purple and white, and nothing else but a few dying ripples. The two brothers stood there, open mouthed as Aleksi sank to his knees, head in his hands, diamond bright tears spilling over his fingers to the dusty earth.