Silencing Sinan

Preface Ali Barlas ah-LEE bahr-LAHS Ayşe AI-shay Çağlar Güven TCHAH-lahr gyoo-VEHN Enes Destanoğlu eh-NEHS dehs-tahn-OH-gcloo Mansur Kışanak mahn-SHOOR kih-SHA-nahck Sinan Sözen sin-YAHN soe-ZHEN Sophie Dinçer SOE-fee din-JCHAR Prologue | Ali “Shit,” Enes turned to look for the water bottle that I had just kicked over as it went rattling across the bare parquet flooring. “It’s capped, it’s fine,” I continued to kiss his neck and jaw, trying to make the most of our last night in the flat we’d shared for years. Enes watched the bottle bounce lightly against the baseboard, coming to a stop before the kitchen. “Hey,” I stroked his cheek, trying to redirect his attention, “everything’s taken care of, we’ll see him on Tuesday.” “I know.” “And we’ll never have to go for months without seeing him again.” “Yeah,” Enes still wasn’t moved. “That’ll be nice.” “And we’ll be able to take care of him and support him,” I massaged my fingers through his long curls, “and all sleep in the same bed every night.” “At least he’s sleeping in a bed,” he turned his head to look at me with a bit of mirth, teasing the fact that we were sprawled across a single sleeping bag. Coordinating selling and donating most of our possessions before the transatlantic move had been tricky, and I admit I had been a little eager to free us of most of the heavy items, things that one might need to have a place to sit or sleep. The flat was naked, save for our suitcases lined up SILENCING SINAN at the door, ready to fly out the door before sunrise. I wasn’t as sentimental as Enes, I was itching to try the new lifestyle Sinan had paved for us. It was the in-between part, the empty old home, and the unseen new home, that Enes was hating. It was the anxiety of moving to a country he’d never been to before, it was the unknown of being pulled into the orbit of the rich and famous, the likes of which we had only had a taste. “And you’ll see to it that he gets to bed at a reasonable hour,” I veered toward flattery, hoping to secure his attention that way, lowering my voice to a rough whisper as my lips and beard stroked his cheeks. “You take such good care of us.” “You both need it,” he poked my shoulder. “Speaking of getting to bed at a reasonable hour…” “I’m too excited to sleep and you’re too nervous to sleep,” I scooped up his torso, bringing his chest to mine, my hips meeting his. “Let’s stick it to the almighty one one more time before we leave this place for the land of heathens.” “As much as I enjoy your dedication to cultural sacrilege,” Enes leaned his head back, resting it on the sleeping bag, his body calmly limp, “I just want you to promise me that you’ll be considerate of the unspoken rules there.” “Oh they’re not unspoken, Çağlar has spoken of them plenty,” I snorted. “My roof my rules, though. Inside that flat, I can grab whatever ass I want. Yours, his, both at the same time,” I reached between the legs of his sweatpants and pinched his butt cheek to make my point. “Just not where anyone can see us,” he reminded me quietly. “Don’t paint a target on his back. He’s worked really hard for this. If we screw up, he’ll never get it back.” “Of course I won’t,” I let his body rest on the sleeping bag, accepting that sex wasn’t happening. “You’re both mine, I’ll do PROLOGUE | ALI whatever it takes to protect you.” “Good,” Enes propped himself up on his elbows and leaned forward to kiss my cheek. I darted my head to intercept so our lips met instead. I could feel his lips form a smile as he pressed them closer. We kissed again, and again, and he let me push the worn elastic bands of his sweatpants and underwear down to expose him so that I could grasp his — We both froze as we SILENCING SINAN them, insisting that a memorial to prominent parishioners was not against any Turkish law. The memorials were a subject of eternal spite between the culturally Muslim people of Turkey and this little Anglican parish. We only knew this because we had sought to find out why people desecrated the cemetery of a church with strangely dedicated regularity. Sinan in particular had become enamored with Tavan’s writings after learning his story, looking wistfully at the battle-scarred grave site each time we passed