Sweet Tooth and Other Stories by Serkan Görkemli

Author:Serkan Görkemli
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781985900219
Publisher: The University Press of Kentucky
Published: 2024-03-25T00:00:00+00:00

After the event, the group walked to the Cix Club for drinks. The gay bar had a rooftop patio lit with lanterns that cast a rosy hue. Hasan and Adam sat across from each other at the elongated table for their group of fifteen. People chattered in Turkish as they debated in small groups how US activism might or might not work in Turkey. Hasan jostled the ice in his Diyet Kola with his plastic straw and watched as Adam smoked, drank his rakı like it was beer, and nodded at the college guy in cargo shorts and a Captain America T-shirt who was happy to show off his English to an American. The college guy had spent a semester in New York and wouldn’t shut up about it, referring to America as “the States.” Hasan would’ve probably spoken English better than this kid, like a European even, if his parents hadn’t dragged him from Bulgaria to Turkey when he was a few years old. In fact, his whole life would’ve unfolded differently, but it was no use thinking about that now. He scratched between the middle and ring fingers of his left hand, where his skin bore the marks of the botched plastic surgery that carved out the webbing there.

Hasan texted Mehmet, “Cix kulübdeyiz. Ismi Adam!”

Mehmet texted back immediately, “Adem? Sen de Havva’sın o zaman!”

As Hasan cracked up at the thought of being Adam’s Eve, Adam looked at him and leaned forward.

“What should I see in Izmir? I’m new here,” said Adam.

“Karşıyaka, my home, on the other side of water,” said Hasan and added, “Ephesus if you abandoned Izmir.” His past foreign tricks had raved about it.

“What if I get lost?” said Adam.

“I’m your guide,” said Hasan.

“We should do that. You’re hired,” said Adam.

They clinked their glasses. Hasan watched Adam down half his glass of rakı. He chased it with another drag on his cigarette without taking his eyes off Hasan.

The pretense of a local showing around a foreigner who didn’t speak Turkish was a necessary cover in Hasan’s line of work. Sex work was legal in registered brothels that employed women in Turkey, but it was criminal otherwise. If caught by the police, he could be detained, fined, or even beaten—as he was once—so Hasan had to be careful, to not let himself be humiliated that way ever again.

For the rest of the night, Adam was çantada keklik, a partridge in a bag. When Adam offered to share a taxi, Hasan knew he wasn’t going home. They arrived at the Swissotel Büyük Efes in downtown Izmir. Unlike in lesser hotels, where the front desk would question two men of dubious connection, five-star places like this one turned a blind eye. Hasan followed Adam’s tipsy beckoning to the elevator under the gaze of hotel staff who smiled and said, “Hoş geldiniz.” Good thing Hasan only had Diyet Kola, because Adam needed help finding his room key to swipe in the elevator.

Three years ago, Hasan swore not to drink on the nights he worked.

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