Hell is empty
All the devils are here
Williams Shakespeare
Regardless of which option I had, sleep was a luxury in this house that I couldn't afford.
During the day, my father would go his own way, and I would go mine in search of work.
Being that I was qualified for nothing and had no real skills, my options were limited. I would comb the streets and markets, in search of any kind of work, and before long, between walking under the hot sun and the nightly mosquito attacks, my once glossy skin soon became burnt and bruised.
I even swallowed my pride and went to the district my father's house had once been, pleading with their former neighbours to employ me, even as just a shop assistant or house maid, but it was one story after the other.
"You've grown, o! I wish I had work for you, but I don't have much either!" was one person's excuse. "no!You're like a child to me. Your mother was my good friend. How can I employ you? Nl Take this money and buy something for yourself, o. Fine girl." All of them patronising, none of them yielding.
On my third attempt in the shopping district, as I was walking down the road, depressed after another failed day of job searching, someone called out to me from a passing car.
"Hello. I'm so sorry to bother you," came a nice sounding voice from inside it. "I was wondering if I could give you a ride home. You shouldn't be walking under this hot sun with skin as lovely as yours."
I looked to see a good-looking man smiling at me. He looked to be in his late twenties, and from his crisp white shirt and pants, gainfully employed.
I looked at my skin that he was calling lovely, the same skin that had been destroyed by the sun and insects, and wondered if he had gone blind.
The neat Toyota Camry he drove, though an old model, looked air conditioned, and I decided I deserved to give myself a bit of a rest.
So I agreed to his offer. As we journeyed to my house, he introduced himself as David and told me he had relocated to Mumbai from China, to help his father set up a hotel.
Our conversation flowed, and from the keen look I saw in his eyes, I knew he was interested in me. By the time he dropped me at home, I was more than interested in him as well.
"Goodbye, beautiful zeynep," he said, holding my hand. "I really enjoyed chatting with you. Can we have lunch tomorrow? I would love to take you out, so we could talk some more."
I smiled at him, hopeful and keen. "I'd like that."
"Who was that?" my father asked, when I walked inside the house.
I was so excited, I couldn't contain my smile. "His name is David. I met him in the market. He was buying supplies for his father's hotel."
My father smiled, also hopeful and greedy for this next prey. "He's very handsome,Hold this one tight, o!"
I giggled like a schoolgirl and proceeded to daydream about him the rest of the day and almost all night. The next day, I selected one of the nicer dresses the minster had bought me, and expertly applied my makeup to make me look my best. By 2 pm, I was more than ready for our date. But 2 pm soon became 3 pm, and then 4 pm. By the time it was 5 pm, I knew he wasn't going to come.
"Maybe he knows his worth or had an emergency," my father postulated.
I nodded in agreement at the later ignoring the former but, deep in my heart, I knew.
And my hunch was confirmed when I saw him again a few days later, walking along the shop corridor close to where we'd met. I called out his name and waved, and when he turned to wave at me, he was less than enthusiastic.
"Hey, David," I said, walking up to him, still beaming. "What happened the other day? I waited for you." Without even cracking a smile, he shrugged. "I was very busy."
"Oh. I'm sorry about that." Why I was apologising, I had no idea. "I'm free now, in case you want to grab a drink or something." I said, still holding to faith.
"I'm afraid I have to go now," he said, giving me a curt nod. "Take care, zeynep, It was nice meeting you."
I watched in shock as he rushed off, and when I looked in the direction of where he'd been coming from, I saw two familiar traders looking at us and whispering.
That was when I knew. I knew that my inability to get a job had nothing to do with the men unwilling to hire my mother's daughter.
I knew that David's sudden loss of interest had nothing to do with him being too busy.
I knew then that news of my dalliance with Ibrahim had truly found its way to my hometown.
I knew that my reputation was truly in shambles.
Dejected, I walked the long distance back home, my heart and spirit broken.
Getting back to the house, I struggled to open the door and soon realised in frustration that it was locked from inside. I pounded on it, wondering what my father was doing to make him lock the door, and why she was even home in the first place.
I was soon to find out.
After several minutes of hard pounding, the door opened to reveal him looking dishevelled. "Do you want to break the door? And why are you back so soon?"
"Father,please let me just come inside," I said, trying to push past him. "I've had a very hard day, I just want to lie down."
To my surprise, he blocked me from gaining entry. "You have to come back later. I'm busy now."
My eyes widened as I realised what was really happening. "Do you have someone inside?"
"Who is that?" came a deep voice from inside. "It's — it was like something clicked in his head. "Give me a minute," he answered, closing the door behind him as she pushed me into the dark corridor. "You will go inside and wear a nice dress and do the needful with that client".
"Who is that man?" I demanded. "I thought you said you were going to town to work." And then realisation hit me. "Don't tell me this is your work!"
"Do I have to spell it out for you?" he said suppressing his rage.
I had never truly known exactly what kind of work my father engaged in, and seeing him in an expensive kaftan state, helped me put together the missing pieces of the puzzle.
"Don't you dare look at me with judgemental eyes! You've seen how hard it is to get any work in this town. How do you think I've been able to take care of the family, with the pittance you used to send me when you were still with the minister?"
My mouth dropped open as I looked at the stranger standing in front of me.
"Please close your mouth there. You did the same when you were in America Or wasn't it for money you slept with both the minister and his son?! just enter and do what you are already used to since the other girl bailed on him. I'm sure you will treat him well, and try not to come home unkempt next time ."
I stood motionless in the hallway, long after he was done talking.He was right. For whatever reason I consented to throw open my legs for father and son, whether or not it was to save my brother or help my family in general, it had been a form of prostitution.
I really wasn't better than the women I was judging.
I was just like her, if not worse.
Standing there, I made the decision to return home…to America. There was nothing left for me in india. My reputation was in shreds. I would never be able to find a husband or any means of livelihood. It was better for me to go where I still had a place.
Even if it was in hell.