{"id":6319,"date":"2021-02-10T17:51:15","date_gmt":"2021-02-10T16:51:15","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/prod-2018.frictions.co\/?p=6319"},"modified":"2022-05-30T15:32:00","modified_gmt":"2022-05-30T13:32:00","slug":"a-bientot-peut-etre","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/prod-2018.frictions.co\/english\/love-better\/will-i-see-you-again\/","title":{"rendered":"Will I See You Again?"},"content":{"rendered":"
<\/div><\/div><\/div>

Evren<\/em><\/strong> <\/span><\/p>

It was the red umbrella I saw first. On the pavement of the busy dual carriageway, through the heavy rain and overwhelming greyness of the day, it flamed like a beacon. I didn\u2019t notice her copper hair, her face, or her smile, not then. I just saw her umbrella, and I saw her waving for a taxi, my taxi. So I asked the driver to stop. <\/span><\/p>

She tumbled into the back seat, somehow furling her umbrella behind her. <\/span><\/p>

\u2018Brilliant, thank you so much! This rain!\u2019 As she settled beside me, raindrops scattered. \u2018Impossible to find a taxi in Istanbul when it\u2019s like this. Well, anywhere probably, but here it\u2019s like, I don\u2019t know what it\u2019s like but\u2026 anyway, thank you so much for stopping.\u2019 She paused for a moment, assessing me. \u2018So, where are we going?\u2019 she asked. \u2018I don\u2019t mind, I just need to get somewhere off this street, out of this rain. And I\u2019ve got some time to kill anyway.\u2019<\/p>

My new travelling companion was possibly Australian, about my age, and captivating. Unsure which of her many remarks I should respond to, I announced our destination: <\/span><\/p>

\u2018Taksim Square.\u2019  <\/span><\/p>

\u2018That\u2019s great, so convenient. My flat\u2019s near there. I rented one, just for the week. So much better than some rubbish hotel.\u2019 She smoothed back her hair. \u2018I\u2019m Katie, by the way.\u2019 She extended a damp hand across the space between us. <\/span><\/p>

\u2018Evren,\u2019 I said. \u2018And I\u2019m staying in a hotel.\u2019 <\/span><\/p>

Oh, right,\u2019 she said. \u2018Of course you are.\u2019  <\/span><\/p>

I released her hand. \u2018It\u2019s not too shabby.\u2019 <\/span><\/p>

She changed the subject<\/span><\/p>

\u2018You\u2019re Turkish?\u2019 <\/span><\/p>

\u2018Yes, but I\u2019ve lived in Ottawa since I was three. I\u2019m a lawyer there now. It\u2019s only my second trip to Istanbul.\u2019 This was already more information than necessary. It was a shared taxi ride, I reminded myself, not a date.  <\/span><\/p>

\u2018That\u2019s one more trip than me then,\u2019 Katie said. \u2018I\u2019ve just finished two years teaching in London, so I planned a break here on the way home. My flight\u2019s tomorrow morning, early, as tickets are a lot cheaper on New Year\u2019s Day when everyone else is still partying. I loved being overseas. But it\u2019ll be good to get back to New Zealand.\u2019 <\/span><\/p>

While she was talking, I felt my phone buzz. It was my sister. Not able to ignore her message, I tapped out a short reply.<\/span><\/p>

Katie threw out some more questions, \u2018Are you here for work? Family?\u2019 <\/span><\/p>

\u2018Family, yes.\u2019 <\/span><\/p>

\u2018Nothing bad, I hope?\u2019<\/span><\/p>

\u2018It was going to be good.\u2019 I glanced at Katie, registered her concern yet hoped she wouldn\u2019t press me further. \u2018The situation changed, that\u2019s all.\u2019<\/p>

Katie turned her attention to the passing scenes of life in Istanbul beyond the taxi window: the pedestrians, street traders, traffic, and shopfronts. I listened to her, glad to be distracted from my day. When the taxi pulled up, she reached into her bag. \n

\n\u2018I\u2019ll get it,\u2019 I said. <\/span><\/p>

Standing on the kerbside of the square, watching the old-fashioned tram wind around its circuit to head off back along the main street of Beyo\u011flu, Katie opened her umbrella. The rain had turned to a light drizzle.<\/span><\/p>

\u2018Do you have to be somewhere now?\u2019 she asked. <\/span><\/p>

Did I? Although I knew I should get back to the hotel to be with my sister, I was drawn to the idea of spending more time with Katie.\n

\n\u2018Can I get you a coffee to thank you for the taxi ride?\u201d she asked.<\/p>

\u2018There\u2019s no need.\u2019 \n

\n\u2018You\u2019d be doing me another favour. Like I said, I\u2019ve got time on my hands.\u2019 <\/span><\/p>

Katie set off with a destination in mind. I only knew the topography of the area \u2014 that we were on a promontory surrounded by Istanbul\u2019s famous waterways, and the roads arched downhill, like ribs away from the spine of the most famous street in the city, Istiklal Caddesi. So I followed her between the high buildings, along narrow streets, until we halted at a doorway beneath a neon arrow pointing up to the Top Floor Bar and Restaurant.<\/p>

Squashed together in a narrow, dimly lit and rather old lift, I felt the slight resistance of her arm against the fabric of my coat. She fell silent and fidgeted with the tie on her umbrella. <\/span><\/p>

Then a final flight of wrought-iron spiral steps, and we were out onto the welcome breadth of a roof terrace.<\/span><\/p>

The rain was holding off, the gas burners were keeping the outside space warm, and in the late afternoon light the silver strand of the Bosphorus glistened. <\/span><\/p>

\u2018Isn\u2019t this fabulous?\u2019 she asked.<\/span><\/p>

I had to stop gazing at her. <\/span><\/p>

\u2018Yes. Great view.\u2019<\/span><\/p>

\u2018Excuse me, do you have a reservation?\u2019 a waiter asked.<\/span><\/p>

I looked around. Only one table had anyone sitting at it. <\/span><\/p>

\u2018We won\u2019t be here long,\u2019 I said. \u2018We\u2019re just having coffee, or maybe a drink.\u2019 <\/span><\/p>

\u2018Please, one hour only. We\u2019re booked.\u2019 The waiter showed us to a table. \u2018New Year,\u2019 he reminded us. \u2018People come to watch fireworks.\u2019<\/p>

To the north, I could see the first of the suspension bridges that spanned the Bosphorus, and the mosque beside it. <\/span><\/p>

\u2018My not-so-shabby hotel is right there,\u2019 I pointed, \u2018nearly under the bridge. Nice as it is, it\u2019s a relief to be out for a while.\u2019

\nA bottle of ros\u00e9 in an ice-bucket beside us, I swirled wine around my glass, considering. \u2018Shall I tell you why I\u2019m here?\u2019 \nThen my phone rang. <\/span><\/p>

\u2018Take it,\u2019 she said. \u2018It\u2019s fine.\u2019 <\/span><\/p>

It was my sister again. <\/span><\/p>

\u2018Don\u2019t worry,\u2019 I reassured her. \u2018I cancelled that too. Just do your best to relax and put it all out of your mind if you can.\u2019\nMy eyes met Katie\u2019s as I shut down the call.\nI shrugged, tried to smile but bit my lower lip instead. \u2018I came over for my sister\u2019s wedding.\u2019 I took a deep breath. \u2018That was her \u2014 Ayda. Her wedding was meant to be tonight. At a venue up near the second bridge, on the Anatolian side.\u2019 <\/span><\/p>

\u2018It was called off?\u2019 <\/span><\/p>

\u2018Yes,\u2019 I said. <\/span><\/p>

\u2018There was a row, a very public one. About money. My father and his brothers. All the groom\u2019s family. A fight that got us thrown out of the restaurant. It was ugly.\u2019  <\/span><\/p>

\u2018And your sister? Ayda?\u2019 <\/span><\/p>

\u2018There was nothing she could do but watch her future slip away. She cried on my shoulder for hours.\u2019 <\/span><\/p>

\u2018Do you think it can be mended?\u2019 Katie asked.<\/span><\/p>

I shook my head.<\/span><\/p>

\u2018It\u2019s complicated.\u2019<\/span><\/p>

\u2018Relationships usually are.\u2019 Katie said. \u2018Us here, for example.\u2019 <\/span><\/p>

I looked up, surprised by the turn in the conversation. <\/span><\/p>

\u2018What I meant was,\u2019 Katie laughed a moment to ease the tension, \u2018look at where we are. Here, in a city built on two continents. It\u2019s not easy to cross from one to the other, but the bridges help.\u2019<\/span><\/p>

\u2018They should talk, of course they should. But it won\u2019t happen.\u2019<\/span><\/p>

\u2018You know, I did a boat tour the other day. The guide said the Bosphorus looks like it\u2019s flowing one way but there\u2019s a strong undercurrent going in the opposite direction. It makes it hard to navigate.\u2019 <\/span><\/p>

I nodded. <\/span><\/p>

\u2018I expect you know all that,\u2019 Katie said. \u2018Anyway, my point is, people do find their way.\u2019  <\/span><\/p>

\u2018But only if it\u2019s meant to be. Some things just aren\u2019t supposed to happen, even if we want them to.\u2019 <\/span><\/p>

\u2018Fate?\u2019 <\/span><\/p>

I emptied my glass then refilled both. <\/span><\/p>

\u2018Do you believe in that?\u2019 Katie asked. \u2018Everything planned? Fixed?\u2019 <\/span><\/p>

\u2018Today,\u2019 I looked at her, \u2018I think perhaps I do.\u2019 <\/span><\/p>

We clinked glasses. Katie reached her hand across the table to take hold of my fingers. I felt my focus change, the tension of the last few days ease. I was sure she too felt our connection, a future even, if only brief and fragile. <\/span><\/p>

Lights were coming on across the city as evening drew in.<\/span><\/p>

\u2018We\u2019ve been here more than an hour,\u2019 she said. \u2018Come and help me finish packing? We can pick up more wine on the way and call for a takeaway.\u2019  <\/span><\/p>

It was after midnight when we left Katie\u2019s Airbnb. As she dropped the keys into the letterbox, I placed a kiss on the back of her neck. \u2018I\u2019ll always remember this.\u2019 <\/span><\/p>

Too soon, we headed up the steep cobbled road towards Istiklal Caddesi on foot. Katie had already bought a ticket for the airport shuttle bus. Even on the quieter backstreets people were out celebrating, enjoying the night. <\/span><\/p>

Taksim Square was joyous. Young people wearing hats and face paint raised a cacophony of voices, cell-phone music, drums, and party clappers. Watching the festivities from the shadows, armed police stood alert, backed by the looming white forms of mobile water cannons.<\/span><\/p>

Katie stepped out into the road to cross to the bus stop. \n
\n
\nQuick as I could, I grabbed her back. A yellow taxi passed a hair\u2019s breadth away from her, the driver\u2019s hand on the horn adding to the confusion of sound. \n
\n
\nI wrapped her to my chest. \n
\n
\n\u2018It\u2019s not your fate to die tonight,\u2019 I said. \u2018I knew I met you for a reason. Look left first. Remember? There\u2019s only a few crazy countries in the world that drive on the wrong side of the road. And you\u2019ve spent too much time in both of them.\u2019\n
\n
\nKatie shuddered. She couldn\u2019t quite bring herself to laugh.<\/span><\/p>

I waited with Katie, even watching her through the window until the bus drew away into the night. Not feeling up to the challenge of finding a taxi, I set off down towards the Dolmabah\u00e7e Palace and the Bosphorus, even though I knew it would take about an hour to walk back. <\/span><\/p>

The first ambulances flashed past, sirens sounding. Then more kept coming, police and security vehicles too. As I approached the waterfront, the road towards my hotel was already barricaded. I waited in a queue kept orderly by officers with guns, listened to people nearby murmuring, saw the shock on their faces.<\/span><\/p>

Allowed through, I headed straight up to Ayda\u2019s room. I sat with her and her friends, watching the breaking news coverage of the shooting less than ten minutes away. <\/span><\/p>

Thirty-nine people died that night, murdered by a gunman who opened fire in the Reina nightclub while Katie was safely on the airport bus.<\/span><\/p>

I messaged Katie to check she was okay, then lay down but hardly slept. As the first dawn of 2017 lightened the night sky, I stood in front of the huge glass windows of my room, watching the grey waters of the Bosphorus eddy under the bridge and swirl away.<\/span><\/p>

I felt gutted. <\/span><\/p>

Katie<\/em><\/strong><\/p>

On the bus, I learned about the shooting. It was terrible. Senseless. While I was queuing to board the plane, a message from Evren came up, a general one he must have sent to all his contacts to say he was safe. Relief flooded through me. <\/span> <\/p>

Yet during the long hours of my flight back, my remembered joy dissipated, broken up by waves of loss. <\/span> <\/p>

I sent Evren a message to say I\u2019d arrived home safely. He told me when he was back in Canada. <\/span> <\/p>

We\u2019d travelled alone, in different directions, to opposite hemispheres.<\/span> <\/p>

I started a new teaching job which kept me busy. I tried not to think of Evren. It was a chance meeting, great while it happened, but over. <\/span> <\/p>

In late January, when I heard about the mosque shooting in Quebec, I messaged, \u2018Please tell me you\u2019re in Ottawa.\u2019 <\/span>\u00ab Je t\u2019en prie, dis-moi que tu es \u00e0 Ottawa. \u00bb <\/span><\/p>

Evren wrote he was safe and in Vancouver. <\/span><\/p>

I didn\u2019t ask what he was doing there, or who he was with. <\/span><\/p>

As the months passed, we continued to message. Careful updates of our everyday lives were overshadowed by our responses to global terror. Tragedies stretched out our fragile connection.<\/span> <\/p>

Watching people flee from Westminster Bridge, I cried. When I was in London, I\u2019d walked along that pavement myself, paused to gaze down into the Thames. <\/span><\/p>

In May, while I was in my first lesson of the day with Year 9, Evren texted: \u2018How many more?\u2019 as children staggered out of the Manchester Arena after the concert. <\/span>\u00ab Encore combien ? \u00bb alors que des enfants sortaient en chancelant du concert \u00e0 la Manchester Arena. <\/span> <\/p>

By the end of December, I could barely comprehend the number of stolen lives I\u2019d counted as acts of violence continued around the world. <\/span> <\/p>

I ended the year with a mixture of family and friends, drinking beer and watching the fireworks on television. I wrote Evren two messages, trying to recapture the happiness we\u2019d shared, but deleted them both, afraid to say the wrong thing and snap the remaining threads between us. Instead I sent, \u2018I\u2019ll always remember our New Year\u2019s Eve together.\u2019<\/span> <\/p>

His reply came a couple of hours later, while I was sleeping, perhaps while he was eating his breakfast. \u2018You\u2019re a year ahead of me. Hope it\u2019s a happy one.\u2019 That was all. <\/span> <\/p>

During 2018, our messages continued. Who texted the news first depended on the time zone. Where once there had been smiles and hearts, our emojis now were sad faces or candles. <\/span> <\/p>

Whether it was another school shooting in the United States, an Embassy attack in Ouagadougou, ambushes in Myanmar or Iraq, suicide bombings near Lahore, a rocket strike in Damascus or grenades hurled in Yemen \u2014 throughout the year there was always terror somewhere.<\/span> <\/p>

On December 31st, I was getting dressed up to go out. A colleague had invited me to a party. She hinted there\u2019d be a mining engineer visiting from Dunedin. She said I\u2019d like him. Actually she said he was single and hot. That we should meet and let the sparks fly. And I knew I couldn\u2019t keep returning to dwell on one night from my past, that I had to move on.<\/span> <\/p>

Then Evren\u2019s message arrived: \u2018Every day for two years I have tried to forget you. I can\u2019t. May I visit you?\u2019<\/span><\/p>

My reply read: \u2018How soon can you get here?\u2019<\/span> <\/p>

Of course, we had to wait. It wasn\u2019t as simple as just hopping on a plane. I was about to sign the contract on my first ever house and then there was school. But I was impatient, hopeful. Honestly, the anticipation of seeing Evren again occupied nearly every waking thought I had. Quite a few dreams too. <\/span> <\/p>

Evren couldn\u2019t just drop his work either, as he had court sessions booked. Instead, he cancelled his ski holiday in Whistler during March.<\/span> <\/p>

At last we were video calling, talking about a future where we could be together. It was good. He was no longer a memory but real, this man with his dark ponytail, strong arms, and surprising blue eyes. And he would visit me, just as soon as he could.<\/span><\/p>

Texting and chatting, January and February passed more quickly than I\u2019d expected.<\/p>

I knew Evren\u2019s travel plans by heart. He\u2019d booked a room at The George, opposite Hagley Park, as he landed in the early hours of the morning. He\u2019d chosen to sleep, relax and recover from the flight before we met in the hotel bistro for a late afternoon bottle of ros\u00e9. I\u2019d go there straight after school. <\/span> <\/p>

Instead, the police explained what happened. <\/span> <\/p>

On Friday 15th March, Evren left Christchurch airport by taxi. He checked into his hotel room around 02:25. At 09:45 his alarm went off, he ate a light breakfast, caught up with some work e-mails and then headed off for a run in the park.<\/p>

While a man in a white estate car, armed with multiple weapons, headed away from the Al Noor Mosque towards the Linwood Islamic Centre intent on more carnage, Evren jogged beside the Avon River back towards the hotel.<\/span><\/p>

Perhaps he heard the report of gunfire or the sirens and was distracted.<\/span><\/p>

Evren stepped off the kerb to cross the road. <\/span><\/p>

He wouldn\u2019t have seen the red Toyota that hit him, they said, because he was looking in the wrong direction. <\/span><\/p>

So he never read the last message I sent him \u2014 the one hoping he was still in his hotel, safe from the terrorist attack unfolding in my city. The one that ended, \u2018I\u2019ll see you very soon XXX\u2019<\/p>

*****<\/p>

The terrorist who planned and executed the attack on worshippers at two mosques was sentenced in Christchurch<\/a> on August 27th, 2020.<\/span><\/i><\/p>

Eleven days later, on September 7th, the terrorist who shot a police officer and opened fire in a nightclub was sentenced in Istanbul.<\/a> <\/span><\/i><\/p>

The two men are condemned to life in prison for multiple murders and attempted murders.<\/span><\/i><\/p><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div>

<\/a><\/a><\/a><\/a><\/a><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div>

Don't miss the next stories ...!<\/p><\/div><\/div>

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