What is there to say? Another Christmas marred by a global pandemic. I feel very fortunate to have managed to get away earlier this year to keep my book-writing dreams alive. There should be a real book to hold in my hands before summer (maybe even in the spring. In the meantime, here’s a small Christmas gift – a little excerpt from the still tentatively-titled Another Glass of Tea, of a different Christmas, in make-believe land. I hope you enjoy.
The house was in chaos. Well-oiled chaos, but chaos nonetheless. Fiona’s whole family had joined them at the lake, including Ben and Max, a welcome surprise. Ben had put on a Christmas classics playlist that Daisy and Simon were singing along to when they weren’t teasing each other. Greg and Jamie were shouting excitedly at the hockey game they were watching. Holly was dealing with her overexcited five-year olds and Fiona hummed along to the music in the kitchen as as she put the finishing touches on their Christmas Eve dinner.
Max looked around and saw Metin standing off to the side. The frenzied activity. The cacophony.The smells emanating from the kitchen. Metin looked slightly dazed as he tried to take it it all in and find his place within it. Max took pity on the newcomer and poured him a scotch. “It’s a lot, isn’t it,” he said, handing him the glass. “I’ve had a few decades to get used to it, so let me warn you – tomorrow will be even crazier. But Fiona is in her element here. She really is the heart of this family.” He looked at Metin seriously. “I’m sure this Fiona is different from the Fiona you know from İstanbul. But you’re going to have to love this version of Fee too, if you want a permanent place in her life.”
Metin took a sip of the liquor. “I never had kids, you know,” he said to Max. “Never thought I could do the family thing. But I love her so much.” He knocked back the rest of his drink.
Max nodded. “Then you better find a way to fit in,” he said quietly, and slipped back into the mayhem, grabbing a crying twin in each arm and twirling them around.
Christmas morning dawned cold and bright. The adults had a leisurely breakfast and watched the little ones play with the toys Santa had brought. They’d been allowed to open their stockings before the rest of the house was awake. Metin thought their parents looked like they needed a nap already.
“Alright, everyone,” said Fiona, clapping her hands and breaking into his thoughts. “To the tree!” Metin had added small gifts for everyone to the almost embarrassingly big pile under the tree and he was eager to see people’s responses. For Fiona, he’d bought an exquisite silk scarf she could tie over her shoulders. He also gave her a cezve and çaydanlık, so they could make proper kahve and çay. For her daughters there were brightly coloured ceramic bowls and for her sons and Greg, soft leather belts. For the children, he had found bathrobes made from fine Turkish cotton and for Max and Ben, who Fiona had told him were foodies, there was lokum and sucuk and real Turkish saffron. At the last minute, he’d added a tavla set for the whole family. Backgammon would entertain them all and maybe help him build a few bridges.
Fiona’s family were delighted with their gifts and he breathed a sigh of relief from his place on the couch. Max came up behind him and put his hand briefly on Metin’s shoulder. “You did good, man,” he said quietly and Metin nodded in silent thanks.
Finally, the gift giving frenzy was finished. Simon threw another log on the fire and Jamie started gathering up all the discarded paper. Jon came up to Metin shyly carrying one of his new books. He pulled on Metin’s sleeve. “Read,” he demanded. Jenna was right behind him and before he knew it, he had a lap full of small children and several new books to read.
Max came up behind Fiona, who was watching the scene unfold. He squeezed her shoulder. “Your guy is settling in nicely,” he said gruffly and they watched as Metin made his way through books about a pig named Olivia and another about a box of crayons who had gone on strike.
They all sighed with relief as the house quieted in the afternoon. Greg and Holly had taken the twins back to the apartment over the garage for a nap and Metin saw his chance to connect with Fiona’s difficult son. “Can I interest you in a game of backgammon, Jamie?” he asked the young man. Metin didn’t know Jamie’s skill at the game, so he played easy the first time through and let friendly competition ease them into conversation. “Okay, I’m rolling my sleeves up now,” he joked, as they started a second game, in which he thrashed Jamie.
“Two out of three?” Jamie asked, wanting to settle the score. Metin agreed readily, pleased to continue, and the two men battled it out. In the end, he won, but only by a hair. “Good game,” Jamie said, shaking Metin’s hand. “Maybe we can have another game later. But now,” he continued, waving his arm at the nearly empty firewood box, “Duty calls. I’d better go chop some wood.”
“I’ll give you a hand,” Metin said, hoping to keep the lines of communication open.
No explanation was given, but when they came back in, Fiona’s son and Metin had become friends.
Fiona collapsed into bed that night. “They’ll all go home in the morning,” she said quietly as she slid in beside Metin and nestled into his shoulder. “I know they’re a lot to take.” She kissed him gently. “Merry Christmas.”
Merry Christmas!
