After a harsh winter, the weather got a little warmer and spring started to feel better. The pine-covered hills seemed to stretch out into infinity, one after the other. The wind blowing from the hills lined by the stream flowing between them carried the smell of fresh pine trees greened by the spring rains to the houses.
It was a small seaside town here. A quiet Aegean town visited by few tourists. The townhouses were lined up from where the pine trees ended, to where the stream running through the town emptied into the sea.
Old stone houses with gardens surrounded by short stone walls gave the town a mystical air. Some of these large and small stone houses had vines in their gardens, and some had fruit trees. Well-kept but unpretentious, these houses were just like the inhabitants of the town.
My house was small, and there was a plum tree in the garden right next to the ivy-covered gazebo. Even though I couldn't see the sea, I could smell the salty smell.
I moved to this city about two years ago after a disappointing year of happy marriage. I left the university where I was a lecturer and left my psychology doctorate unfinished. The money from the sale of my apartment in the city was enough to buy a small house and an orchard. The return on the investments I made with my savings provided my livelihood.
To the east of the town, located in the northern part of the Aegean, were orchards, almost all of which belonged to its inhabitants. When the weather got warmer, I was spenting most of my mornings reading under the arbor in my garden, tending to the peppers and tomatoes I planted in a corner of my garden.
In the evenings, I was drinking the wine I made from my grapes and writing melancholic poems. Sometimes I drank fruit wine. Sweet cherry wine was a favorite of my summer nights.
Some mornings I was going to my garden where there are about 10 cherry trees. I'd get on my bike and calmly drive to the orchards east of town. I would leave a scorched cloud of sand dust behind me. Sometimes I had to go through a cloud of dust left by someone else, and the dust filled my nose and ears.
After watering the cherry trees, I would read the cover I put under a big tree in the middle of the garden for hours and picnic with the scent of cherry blossoms. When I was suffocating from the heat, I would fold my trousers up to my knees and cool off in the stream.
The orchards were not far from town. It was a distance I could travel in half an hour on my bike. I used to use my bike all the time while traveling. My bike was an older model with dual dials, the handlebars were turned inwards. In front of him was a small basket. I bought it second hand from a motorcycle mechanic when I first came to town. It was difficult to control, but somehow it worked. On that bike, in my folded linen pants, my Hawaiian shirt that made me look like a tourist, my sunglasses, and my straw hat, I looked like I stepped out of an '80s Italian movie.
What would Nesrin say if she saw me like this?
Nesrin was my wife. We met him at a bookstore. He was in his late twenties and I was in my early forties. He was of medium height, dark complexion and thin. He had thin lips and a small nose. The world seemed to get better when he looked me in the eye with his brown eyes through his big glass glasses. We found ourselves chatting about books in front of the same book aisle. When we continued this conversation over coffee, it was clear that good things would happen between us. It was like we complemented each other.
After a short dating period, we got married. Everything was going well. He was understanding, graceful and attentive. He was not afraid to show his love. I was responding in the same way. On long summer nights, we would chat about the books we read and the movies we watched. We drank a lot of wine, sang and danced. We made love until morning. I couldn't tell if it was the wine or the smell of her skin that made my head spin.
Some nights I would read poems I wrote for him. A meaningful smile appeared on her face as she tilted her head slightly and looked sweetly with her small brown eyes. That's when I found him very attractive. I never told him that. I didn't tell anyone. I kept the feeling of that moment to myself.
Of course it happened in our fights. Usually because of the little things. But we couldn't stay offended for long. Most of the time we made up within a few hours. Our last fight was again over something minor. I dropped and broke the porcelain mug that he bought me so fondly. He overreacted a bit and the discussion dragged on. He said he was going out to get some air. I thought it would calm down a bit and come back, but it didn't. He never returned.
He usually made me apple pie after our fights. He knew I loved him very much. It was a call for reconciliation. We never talked about it, but it was a kind of silent agreement that we both agreed to.
That afternoon, after wandering around to calm down a bit, he stopped by the market and bought some cupcakes and apples. After leaving the market, all the apples were scattered on the street due to the impact of the car that hit while crossing the street. Nesrin's ribs were broken and it sank into her lungs. While being taken to the hospital by ambulance…
A few hours after the incident, after identification at the hospital, they handed over his belongings to me. One of the police officers who arrived at the scene mentioned the accident. I found the shopping receipt in your wallet. Shopping time, the materials he bought...
The world has not been the same for me since that day. I guess it never will. I hated that house and its contents. I left everything behind and settled in this small town. I packed some of Nesrin's belongings carefully and as if they would never be opened again. Among them were glasses with glasses. That package is still in a corner of my house.
In my new life in town, I was trying to stay away from people. I didn't want to have a relationship with anyone. My only friend here was a baby turtle I found weeks ago in my cherry orchard one morning. I made a place for him out of cardboard. I usually feed it lettuce. Sometimes I gave fresh peppers and tomatoes. Organic vegetable.
I took it everywhere I went. It fits easily in the basket on the front of my bike. When we went to the cherry orchard, I left it to wander for a while. Some evenings we went to the beach to watch the sunset together. Although the town's beach consists of cliffs, it was not suitable for swimming, but was ideal for watching the sunset. He even accompanied me some nights while drinking my wine in the gazebo and eating lettuce at my table.
One morning I got up early and decided to go to my cherry orchard. The weather was still cool. I put my little turtle in the basket of my bike and hit the road. The scent of a fresh summer morning was mixed with the cheerful chirping of the birds and gently dispersed everywhere.
I was dreaming of arriving at the cherry orchard as soon as possible and having breakfast with the cheese sandwich I took with me. I started pedaling faster. Managing this old bike on a dry dirt road wasn't easy. I tried to escape from a large stone half buried in the ground, but was unsuccessful. The bike wobbled a lot and my little turtle jumped out of the basket. When my turtle fell to the ground, it ran over my rear wheel. Everything happened in a second. My poor little one's shell wasn't developed enough. I had crushed my only friend, my traveling companion. I stood for a moment beside his lifeless body. I couldn't believe such a thing existed. After regaining consciousness, I gently picked it up and put it back in the basket. When I came to the cherry orchard, I buried it under a cherry tree.
I sat and leaned my back against the tree. I took out my sandwich and took a bite. The murmur of the stream could be heard. The birds continued to chirp. A breeze licked my hair. The morning coolness had disappeared. The sun was shining.
