A Baby for the Billionaire

11

KEREM

Flying.

It always meant positive things in my life.

Happy moments.

My first flight for a math Olympiad when I was little, the first vacation with my family, the love of books when I went to an entrepreneurial or reading fair, everything that is well placed for the same purpose that later it came to mean from the highest metaphor to the deepest pain.

Immersed in my own sorrows, I steel myself and try to remain hermetic to any sensation that the idea of ​​getting on a plane might cause me. Ali comes with me, but it is not me who is in charge but the governess whom the common people call nothing more than "nanny" although I find that term very basic and mundane.

My son, of course, is instructed by someone who is above that, there is much more than a simple caregiver for the creature that is the blood of my blood.

I resolve that we must leave at once. Here I am the one who gives the order, it is my private flight and it is my execution of terms as I intend that they should be followed according to the rules that I have to instruct.

I decide that it is time to move on with my business as scheduled on the agenda. We walk towards the seats that are assigned to us and I let my senses adjust to keeping my mind blank from all the techniques that I can apply to be able to tolerate it inside.

We are about to take off when it finally happens. The turbines start up, we move inside the brutal machine that makes up this particular aerodrome and we rise to the sound of Ali crying, who has just released an annoying and torturous cry that pierces my brain without mercy.

Geez, how is it possible?

While we're in the air, my eardrums hurt as the tension and altitude cause my ears to clog, Ali cries, my head tries to tell me over and over again that it's better to stay blank, but the crisis that revolutionizes my interior he remains gagged until we settle into the air and I try to process what is happening. I process it deep in my mind until I bury it where it belongs. I let the minutes tick by as I imagine Zara by my side, holding my hand and telling me in her velvety voice "everything will be fine, Kerem, don't be afraid, everything will be wonderful as you always planned. This trip is special for you. Keep it special for the three of us."

Sigh.

I open my eyes.

As soon as I think I have the feeling that I can begin to settle into the flight and be aware that my wife may be by my side accompanying me, I realize that we are close to landing.

Time has passed very quickly. Flying? Ha. Yes, too fast and too soon we have reached our destination.

Ali has stopped crying.

We have arrived.

"Who is the most beautiful baby? Who?"

The voice of the woman who is in charge of Ali's care is unbearable for me, she can't talk like a fool to my son. He is not a fool, he is a child.

"Please don't use that tone when talking to Ali Deniz," I say, accentuating each word as our luggage is handed over to us.

She looks at me with a certain darkness crossing her face.

"I'm sorry, sir," she tells me.

I clear my throat, annoyed by the scene I just witnessed.

"I don't want my son to grow up hearing people talk to him that way. The world will not treat him like you treat him, he needs to be disciplined" I warn her.