TheAmazonite InciKartal

Hi, I’m Inci from Turkey. Afterhavingstudied‘ELT’ in Istanbul andworkedas an English teacherfor

seven years, Iwantedto focus more on writing. Discoveringthe ‘MA TESOL & Creative Writing’ programme at the University ofWestminsterwas the key formy ultimate dream to come true!

“Yourbodyfeelsheavy.Heavierthanithaseverfelt.”That’swhatmyfriendtoldmeontheday sheturnedthirty.Iwastwenty-fourthenandwonderedwhatkindoffeelingthatwouldbe. Thelastsix yearshavepassedinaflashandit’smybirthdaytoday. Herwordsareringinginmyearsand,yes,my bodydoesfeelsortofweird. So,nocrazypartying,andifitwasuptome,Iwouldjuststayathome,put‘BridgetJones’ on, haveabottleofwineandgetdepressedunderablanket.Whatdowecelebrate,anyway?Gettingold?

Why?IfIweretocelebrateanything,itwouldbehavingmanagedtostopsmokingattheageoftwentynineandahalf.Nowthatisrealsuccess,whichdeservesongoing,crazycelebration. Butofcourse,nonsmokers,neverknowingwhatandhowmuchitmeanstoasmoker,seeyouasacleared-upsubstancewho nowdeservesmorerespect,whereasthesmokersskipitwithasimple“well-done”andsomeenvious questionslike“how?”and“when?”Anyway.Ifyouhavefriendsaround,stayinginonyourbirthdayis notreallyanoption.Youhavetoactuallygoout. So,thesuggestionwasthetraditionalpubwealwaysgo to,TheYork.Atablewasalreadybooked.Noneedtodressupunnecessarilyanduncomfortably,noneed toslaponstageymake-uporposearound,oranything. IcanstillgetmybottleofNewZealandpinotnoir –thebestofTheYork. Justbeforeleavinghome,Imadesuremyamazonitegemstonewasinmybag.Mum’stwentieth

birthdaypresenttome,whichisbelievedtomakeone’sdreamscometrueandsoItakeitwithme everywhere. “Keepitalwayswithyou,Julia.Believingisgood,”shehadsaid,lookingdeepintomyeyes. Thoughithasn’tproducedthedesiredeffectsofar,quitetheoppositeinfact,hopeishopeandit’salways wisetoremember.Perhapstoday’stheday…allfiveofusmetatTheYorkat8pm,asplanned.Thanasis immediatelypinneda‘30’ badgeonmygreen,frillycardigan,withacheerful‘HappyBirthday.’ “Comeon,Thanasis,I’msurethisisnottheGreekway,”Isaid,adjustingthebadgewithout consideringwhyIwasevenbotheringtokeepitthere.

“Well, Miss English. This is not my day and not my country. You’ll see the Greek way in two months’ timeinGreekStreet,”hesaidwithaloudMediterraneanlaugh. “So, I can’t pin a 26 on you, Mister? I need a clue there. Oh, hang on. I know! I’ll breaksome platesforyou.Whataboutthat?”Isenthimacunningwink. Faye buttedinimpatiently. “Yep, that’s one thing we do. Go ahead, Julia –ifthere are no rules

aboutitinLondon,ofcourse!” Webothlaughed. “Whataboutyoutwo,guys?AnythingspecificforTurks?”Iasked. AysimandMertlookedateachotherwithraisedeyebrows. “Nothing especially,” Mertreplied, looking abitdisappointed. “We justgive presents andparty, really.”HelookedbackatAysimasifwaitingforhisapproval. “LiketheEnglishway,”Aysimwenton,pointingatmewithheropenhand. Then,shereachedfor something. “Hereisyourpresent,prettydoll,”shesaideagerly. Pretty doll? Well, yes Iam, still. Thanasissaid,“wait,let’sgetsomedrinksfirst.”

Finally,‘forget-about-life’ time! “Theusual,Julia?” “Youknowme,Thanasis,”Irepliedexcitedly,asheheadedtothebar. Howcome I don’tlookanydifferent fromthese four, ordo I? I mean, I don’tfeel anydifferent from when I was twenty-five. They probably have more hopes than I do, seeing everything pink and bright. I don’t, anymore. WhenexactlydidI become like this? Afterbreakingup withNick? Idiot, even after six fucking years. Got achickandmarriedher. I’mso sickofseeing friends walking aroundwith theirprams. AndI’mdoing aMaster’s withyoungsters fromaroundthe world, having no more English friends –well, single ones at least. These guys are all very nice but no career, no lover, nothing. And thirty,ontopofeverything.Imissyou,Mum.

“Someone is rolling inthe deep again? Come on, Julia, openyourpresent.” Mert broke into my thoughtswithhisvoice,softasvelvet.Ilikeguyswithasoftvoice.Iwishhewereolder. ItookaleisurelysipfrommyPinotNoir,inhalingitswonderfularomaofblackcherries. “Right.Beforeyouopenit,here’ssomepre-info,”Fayesaid,pullingmebacktoreality. “We chose them because we know that you love symbols ofluck from around the world,” she continued,asIunwrappedthepresent. Itwasalittlepouchcontainingatransparentamuletandabrightornament. Theamuletwasadark bluebeadwithasmallerlightbluecircleandanothersmaller, darkbluecircleonit. Theornamentwasa redpomegranate.

“Theylookbeautiful,”Isaid. Ilovedmynewtoys. “ThisisaTurkisheye,”Aysimenlightenedme.“Itisbelievedtoprotectyoufromtheevileye.It’s verycommoninTurkey.Peoplewearitasjewelleryorkeepitathomeasatalisman. IHopeyoulikeit.” “It’s beautiful,” I blurted out happily. The pomegranate was believed to bring good luck to a personinGreekculture,andmustbekeptathome.

“Thanks,guys,theyarebothverysweetgifts,”Isaidwithasmile,asIreplacedtheminthepouch. “To you, to your luck, and your birthday, Julia,” said Mert, raising his bottle ofHeineken. We clinkedourglasses. Ireachedformybag, whichshouldhavebeenonthefloorunderFaye’sbag, butIcouldn’tseeit. Idugmyhanddeepintothecoatslyingthere,butIcouldn’tfinditthereeither. “Aysim,ismybagonthatside?”Iaskedanxiously. “Yourbag?Idon’tthinkso.Therearenobagsonthisside.” ShecarriedonchattingwhileIfranticallylookedformybageverywhere. Suddenly,Iremembered myamazoniteandfeltlikecrying. “Hey, my bag isn’t here!” I snapped, interrupting the easy chat around me. Only then did they

realisethattherewassomethingwrong. “What?” “Whatareyoutalkingabout?” “Yourbagisn’there?” Everybodystartedtolookaround,underthetable,stools,coats--butnothing,nowhere. Wewereallstupefied. “Itwasrighthere,”Iyelled,feelingataloss. Justthen,aguyfromthenexttablecalledout: “Areyoulookingforyourbag?” “Yes,”werepliedinachoruswithahintofhope,turningourheadstowardsthestranger.

“Isawsomeonekickabagoutwithhis footandrunawayfromthis door. Iwasn’tsurewhoseit was.Thebarmanranafterhim,”hesaid,pointingatthedoorbehindhim. Welookedateachother,appalled. *** I love London. This greyweather, this rain, gloom, smell. I don’tmiss the hot, damp weatherof Mexicoatall. Ilovehowyoucanbelonelyinsuchacrowdhere,howyoucangetlost,beanonymous. I don’thaveanyonetolongforbackhomeanyway. Peoplehavetheirfamilies,theymissthem,andsothey come and go. They get whatever they can out ofthis city and leave. Just like that. Getting attached, therefore,isasinhere.

IrememberthefirstdayIarrivedhere. Itwasaftermydaddied,thelastoneinthefamilyaftermy mumandbrotherbothdiedinacaraccidenttenyears ago. I was twenty-two then. It’s beeneightyears sincedadjoinedthemintherushofasuddenheart-attackattheageoffifty-three. Feelingnumbandlost, Ineededanewbeginning,TíoErnestosaid. “Go to London, Cruz. It’s acityofopportunities. Youcanstudypsychologythere, too. Isn’tthat

whatyouwant?” ItwaswhatIwanted, hewasright. Havingnothingtoloseanymore, thedestinationwasloudand clear.Ihadenoughmoneylefttomebymydad,too. Itwas acoldwinterafternoonwhenIarrivedatHolbornStationto meetmycousinLino. Ithad beenyears - seven, I guess - since I lastsawhiminMexico. He leftthe countryto improve his English andthengetajobhere. “Anyjob,”hesaidthen. Ineverunderstoodwhyheneverhadaclosebondwith hisdad,TíoErnesto,andhismum,butIguessheisarebellioustype. I livedwithhim, two Indians andanEnglishmanforfourmonths inGolders Green, afterwhich LinosuddenlydecidedtogobacktoMexico.Theanswertomy“why?”wasa“youwon’tunderstand,”so Ididn’tinsist.

“Don’twasteyourlifehere,Cruz. It’sabeautifullypaintedcitythatfoolsyou. It’sahurricanethat sucksyouup.”Thesewerehislastwords,withhislittlesuitcaseinhishand,yearsofmemoriescrammed inthelittlerectangle. So,Iwasleftwiththeotherguys. Ididn’tcaremuch,tobehonest. Ihadmyownlittleroom,abig worldformyself. I spentsome time lookingforajob andaschool to studypsychology. Itfeels so long agonow, butImanagedtogetdifferenttypesofjobsovertheyearsandmetsomepeople- althoughnot lotsofthem- butnevercouldactuallystudywhatIwanted. Itjustdidn’thappen. Idon’tknowwhy. My Englishimproved,though,thankstodealingwithdifferenttypesofcustomers. Aboutfriends, I’veneverhadverymany. Didn’tfeeltheneed. Justoneortwowouldbefine, has always been. Theotherguysatthepub, forexample, areallniceandfriendly, butIlovemyownworld

withnooneinit.Well,withjustoneortwo,maybe.Like,Alejandroisfine. Enough. Andagirl. Agirlfriend. Her. Haven’tfeltthiswayinyears. ThefirsttimeIsawherwasabouttwo months ago. She came inwith friends, sat at the table inthe corner. Hereyes were looking miles away intothedistance. Looking, butnotseeinganything. Shehadamelancholyairabouther, whichmakesme wonderwhy. That’sallIcoulddo,Icando.Wonder. “Amanhastobeahero, amigo.That,thegirlsfuckingadmire. Qué bien!”

Beingmeisnotalwaysgood,Iknowthat.Idon’tevenknowhername,eventhoughsheisa regularhere.I’dloveto,though.I’dlovetotalktoher,askherwhatitisthatmakeshergetlostin thought.I’dlovetosayhowprettysheis,howbeautifulshelookswithherlong,wavygingerhairand purewhiteskin.I’dloveto...I’dlovetoaskheroutandgetherwineandwatchherforhours. “Amanhastobeahero, amigo.”

A la chingada, lo hare! Alejandroisright.I’min! “Hey Ale, you know what? Let’s go forit.” *** “Amanhastobeahero, amigo.That,thegirlsfuckingadmire. Qué bien! Areyougoingtosit andwaitlikethat?Comeon! You’redyingforthatgirl,right?DosomethingbeforeIkickyourass.” Alejandrolitacigarette. “Whatsomething,Ale?Ican’t.Ican’teventalktoher.Don’tyouunderstand?Thisisme,it’s howIam.Iknowitis...” “Fuckhowyouare,then.Iwill,ifyoucan’t.Youareaman,forfuck’ssake! Wantafag?” “No,thanks.Whatdoyoumean‘Iwill’?”

“Amigo,Imean,Ifuckingwill.Hey,listen,Cruz.Ihaveasmashingplan.” “Hey, Aaron the runner! Not bad, mate, how’re you doing? Good, listen, Ineedyou on Saturday night for a little dash. Are you around? What party, man? Can’t you go a bit later? Great! Can you meet me at Queen’s Headat two tomorrow? All right, I’ll tell you all about it then. Bye.” See?It’sdone.Simpleasthat,MrHero! Whatdoyousay? “Wait! Letmethinkaboutitfirst.Okay?I’llcallyoulater,”saidCruz. *** Cruzcameintothepuboutofbreath,withthebaginhishand,justafterAlejandrofinishedhis sentence. “Mybag!”criedJulia,gazinginastonishment,asCruzcameintopub,walkedovertoherand

handedherthebag. Hethenturnedonhisheedandleft. Allfivefriendswerestillspeechless. “Seeifeverything’sinit,”saidMertafterawhile. “Myamazonite,”whisperedJuliatoherselfassheopenedthebag. Everythingwasthere.Shegrabbedthegemstone,tookitoutandkissedit,andgentlyreturnedit toherpocket. “Itwasthatbarman,”shoutedAlejandrofromthenexttable,pointingatCruz. Julialookedathimalongwiththeotherswithoutanyexpression.Withherbagclutchedtoher chest.

“I’llbuyhimadrink,”shemurmured. “Yes,Julia.Ican’tbelieveheranafterthebastardtogetthebag,”addedAysim,admiringthe barman’scourage.“Wedon’tevenknowtheguy.Hereallydeservesadrink.Go.” Juliawentslowlytothebar. “Hi,thanksforrunningaftermybag.Please,letmegetyouadrink,willyou?”Timestoppedfor

Cruz.Amomentdreamedofforsolongwasnowreal. Itfeltsurreal. “Hey,noproblem.Don’tworryaboutit,”heanswered. “No,please.Ireallywantto,”Juliainsisted. “Well,apintwouldbegreat,then,”Cruzadded,timidly.Hishandswereshaking. Alejandrowaspeekingfromhistablewithasecretgrin. Cruzsoonfinishedworkandwentoutforafagwithhisbeer.Juliaandherfriendswerestill talkingabouttheincident. Fayesaid,“Let’sgoandtalktothisguyagain.” TheyinvitedAlejandrotojointheirgroup. “Howdidithappen?When,exactly?Howcomewedidn’tseeanything?Didyouseethethief? “Bytheway,I’mJulia.”Sheextendedherhand. Shewasfinallybacktolifeagain.

“Cruz,”hesaidwithasoftsmile,astheyshookhands.Hewashappythathishandsweren’t shakinganymore. “Thankyouverymuch.Yougavemethebestbirthdaypresentever. Ireallyappreciateit.”Julia putherhandinherpocket.Shestrokedhergemstoneandwonderedifthiscouldbetheman. “Happybirthday,Julia,”saidCruz,gettinglostinhereyes.Alejandroraisedhisbottle.