CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 3

3 months past

 

“The only thing that had been worrying me all the time was, that how they could solve all my problems, thus, documents, flight tickets, rent room of old american couples, immediate job in grocery store, preliminary health insurance or how they call it medical insurance, operative welcome of my arrival at airport…within short period of time. It seems to me like in a movie…Perfect preparation. But did I really deserve. This question came to my mind not one time” will tell Malik year later.

The grocery store had Spanish name Corrida – without anything to do with the store itself…It was named tactlessly he thought. The first month was rather cumbersome to him, bearing in mind the fact that he was learning the English simultaneously.  It was rather odd that in a country where market competition was unrelenting, that any kind of counterproductive timesheet is punished by being fired, yet he was not fired. Seeing such a politeness, he was doing his best to learn to speak properly and to gain a full customer satisfaction. He also had a small, but not so small, advantage indeed, that he’s colleague was Turkish, but American born citizen, student thus Azeri and Turkish are of the same origin, pretty like British and American English…So they had no complications understanding each other “fighting with claws” in order to come out ahead to the end of every single week…The he discovered boy’s money outfall that he had an unscrupulous “emo” girlfriend that was almost devouring poor guys money earned with sweat and blood. Love made him so pathetic... Age 23, he’s name was Tuncay. Tall young guy with muscled bone-structure and kidish face complexion, tiny black eyes, short haircut black as Mexican oil. He was also sharing rent room with Malik – the one who hadn’t long felt convenience of sleeping in mild, cosy bed.

-         Today manager was so angry, may Allah forbid, maybe he has some family problems, what do you think Tuncay…I didn’t get quite everything he told me…You know…My listening comprehension is not yet alright…

-         He says you don’t have to start working aggressively and fearfully when you see him (manager) coming…You have quite different psychology,…Why you are so frightened from boss, do you have sort of “bossaphobia” or something?

-         That is something habitual, in my country, boss is real boss, he can throw you out like a garbage, for any tiny mistake, and even if he would not like your appearance or else…They are so ruthless.

-         Oh…I see. Sorry for that…But now you are totally free person, your job is only in your hands, very much dependent on how tight or loose you’ll grab it.

-         Yeah…that’s for sure kid…

Tuncay with blushed cheeks was trying to say or ask something but was hesitating. At last he found courage to look in his eyes  and give it out.

-         Malik amca (means uncle), can you do me a favour…

-         Anything…Inshallah, within range of possibility…anything

-         At seven I have a date, so  I have to have my hair cut, you know, I look like chimpanzee these days, with curly long hair…

-         Ok..kid. But I again warn you…This shameless, insolent girl is killing you gradually destroying your future… Try to evade your temptation. Leave her!!!

Tuncay got little bit angry, so he thought no one has a right to interfere his private life. However did all his best not to burst out and preserved cold-bloodness.

-         Thank you for your advice…I’ll take into account. So Inshallah see you tomorrow…

-         You want come to house…

-         Maybe not….OK see you.

After Tuncay closed the market doors behind him, Malik gave a short but attentive glance to a market background, so to count the clients yet within grocery. There was a middle age asian woman, at daily products department, afroamerican grandpa may be at his seventies picking up some small widgets.

Suddenly Malik got a heavy headache, like someone was hammering his skull from inside. He closed his eyes, and began to see the distorted images of some bloody sceneries, gun-shots, scattered bodies, and it was in battlefield…He had been very frequently seeing these kind a surrealistic pictures these days. So it was not a surprise for him…But when the pain had gone, and he opened his eyes, he started seeing all around, quite differently, like someone has shifted the colors all around, and he could obviously see green steamsome matters moving in chaotic streams with a narrow lines, they were all around…When he again be closed his eyes an opened, the firs thing he saw was a latino guy pointing shining revolver at him maybe from 3 meter distance. However Malik was astonished to see himself so calm in such a strain conditions, he felt like he had all the situation under control...He caressed his small beard with right hand and look directly to latinos face ironically smiling…It made latino mad…

-         What you lookin, moron,…bring out the money…hurry up, old asshole.

-         Cahannam ol, ogrash oglu ogrash – swore in Azeri (Go to hell, son of a pimp)

-         Hey, I don’t know what you saying you freaken arab, but any more words, and I’ll open big hole on head for ever memory,...hurry up, give me the money…

-         No honey no money – wow its first time I use sayings in English, how was that…

-         Are you freaken out of your mind,

He was already to pull the trigger that, the old afroamerican customer, exerting all his energy rushed onto gunman and grabbing from his hand, tried to somehow, take  the revolver from him…But it was a big mistake…Instant shot at heart from short distance, with the strongest revolver ever – magnum made this courage old man die within seconds. He again turned his face to Malik, and again touched the trigger. He was so shocked to see old Caucasian salesman still be alive. At the time of shooting asian women –the other customer, almost jumped a meter to save the bullet destined to Malik with her body… Both Malik and latino guy, stood like an iron, no move, no sound, even there eyes were not moving,,,they were just freezed. No of them understood such behavior of customers. You don’t everyday witness such heroic act in America, particularly if they are sacrificing there lives for unknown foreign salesman, who most probably, even don’t have a green card. Latino guy never practiced psychology so he was less involved in analyses of such irrational behavior…Rather he was thinking “What to do next?” Approaching  siren sounds of police cars, somehow, awakened them from such stance. Latino guy pointing the revolver at him

-         I don’t believe in trinity stuff…so die you, idiot.

He pulled the trigger, but there was no shot…again…,again,,,once again…At last it came to him that, there was no more cartridge left in roll.

-         You lucky pig…-saying he hitted Malik with the butt from head and escaped. When police reach the market, he saw two dead bodies and one lost his faint from heavy punch…

 

***                       ***                       ***

-         And how do you thing, what that all means…some kind a “anticonspiracy theory”, ha…- asked Tuncay ironically.

-         You see, kid, I don’t get only one thing, why everyone so symphatize me, even police officer, who said there’s no need for my testimony, damn…how can it be possible, there was two dead bodies, and one who died saving me from mortal shot, why there’s no need for testimony,,,that’s dumb, and he told me they’ll call me if there’s any necessity. Kid, he did not even ask me how the shooter looked like, you know his appearance…

-         Hmm…You see the exchange program your’re involved in, its sort of UN funded,,,I think this is the answer…You’d better get acquainted  with program’s guidelines, charter or something, you know, documents regarding terms and conditions…I’m sure it is the clue indeed…No anti-conspiracy theory…ha-ha-ha…Wow, I’m already thinking like an medieval philosopher… what a word, anti-conspiracy…

-         You’re talking funny…Well, never mind with that…

The conversation was going on the second floor of the house rented by these two from old couples - both retired musicians thus violinist and flute player – with a good lump of rental.  Each of them, Malik and Tuncay, had separate rooms with only one bathroom at the dead end of the second floor. But basicly Tuncay visited Maliks room when he felt bored. Malik was a fun man for his age with aristocratic sense of humour.     

-         By the way, what did you say to your girlfriend, when she asked about money…you again told the truth and gave her all the money, didn’t you?

-         Uncle Malik, you know what kind of person I’m, so I presume its senseless to give same kind a questions all the time…I told you that, its something hereditary, that I can’t tell a lie…its like a curse,,, when deceive someone then it causes undesirable and heavy consequences for me…or I get kicked by New Jersey gangs or hit by yellow cab what, comes out then, is driven by a guy who don’t even have a license.

-         Yeah…I see superstitions is fixed on you. The let me give you such an ideal option…you know, for you conscience sake. But first you have to listen to an old but real story in order to get the whole point.

-         Have you heard anything about Shah Ismael Hatai…

-         Yes…as far as I know he was your medieval king that founded Safavi state which invaded almost whole Arabian peninsula, until our Turkish sultan punished him in great battle Chaldiran

-         Sure…1514 August 23…pointless battle ever in the history of mankind,,,between two brother states, pointless blood shed of turks –azeri and osmanli turks…Yes…you know that he was very young when he came to power and founded his own state Safavi state…almost whole Azerbaijani areas, thus todays current Azerbaijan, Armenia –that time Iravan, and Southern Iran…after scattering his ruthless enemies…

-         So…

-         So…After his father was killed, the king of that times thought that it is very risky, to let another members of Safavi clan scot-free, so he order his men to kill all of three brother – the last members of Safavi family…All brothers was killed but Ismael…at age of 13. Thus this happened because the master of Gilan in Iran gave a refuge to poor boy,…he was loyal muslim, sheer obedient wise man- both in fate and deeds…However he was sure that the king will somehow hear about this secret and send his troops to check the uprightness of rumors. So when he heard troops coming, he bound little Ismael with ropes and hanged him from the tree so that he’s feet won’t touch the ground…

-         Hmm…Interesting…why?

-         This is the main implication of the story which has similarity with your case…so when the troops came he swore – literally- that “By Allah, in whose hand is my soul, the feet of Ismael Safavi is not on Gilani ground”. Thus he swore,,,he told the truth,,,and by such a wise option he remained both faithfull to his oath, and saved the Ismael from being murdered- which then would become the giant warlord, commander, poet and philosopher…

-         So…whats your proposal now…

-         Doing the same…

-         Hmm…sounds challenging…

Although Malik had already taken aspirin headache was getting harsher. So he freely making himself fall into bed, he tried to eliminate the pain by massaging.

-         Uncle Malik…

-         What kid…

-         I’ve been worrying for you recently,,,ask me why?

-         Why?

-         Its already six days in the row that you enter the bathroom after eleven and stay there till morning…I wonder what you’re doing there all night long…

-         You must be kidding…I close my eyes in bed, I open my eyes in bed…I’m sure you’re confusing something…

Tuncay came close and sat down on the other corner of the bed, turning his back to him…

-         Nop, I’m sure ‘cos I checked you all the time this week…I had a terrible stomacache in the midnight a week before. I saw you silently getting out of your room without closing the door and staggering toward bathroom like a ghost, may Allah forbid, but swear to all precious I have in life, you stayed there all the night…If there’s sort of problem so, if you find it inadequate sharing with me, so I’ll understand it..

-         Nonsense…Why should I have a kind a problem to hide it in bathroom…what sort of idiotic presumption…No I swear I don’t know what are you talking about.

-         Then its OK…You see, I’ve recently wacthed a tv documentary about the men like you, you know, sleepwalkers…Almost one fifth of people have at least one time sleepwalked in their life.

Headache was already gone. Maybe the new stuff about late nightwalking made him irrationally shift off the pain. Getting up:

-         I must confess, me also don’t remember, anything done after eleven…Like I’m turned off after that time…No dreams no memories, just black blank… and after I get up new sceneries and pictures moving in my brain periodically, in particular, before lunch time at work…Today you must check it again and awake me if I happen to get into bathroom again.