A Baby for the Billionaire

42

KEREM

Dad is in his study, in front of papers that he fills out. He reviews them, goes from one to the other with a frown. I think about it several times. And another time. I've lost count of how long I've been considering the idea until my head keeps processing the situation endlessly without a correct choice.

I have come this far, I have prepared the speech a thousand times, I have considered it with all the possible scenarios until I well considered the alternative by which dad, in my imagination, defines once and for all a "okay, you are right. I will give you what you ask for" because all I need is his permission. Nothing more than that.

Mom hasn't seen me coming, she doesn't like to be disturbed while she's in her studio working. Sometimes she's just reading or writing in her journal, but she also calls that work. Big things.

I step forward at last, pushing open the door. He has noticed that I'm here, but he doesn't say a word. Those folders and papers seem to be very important.

I clear my throat like people who want to talk but don't dare do in movies.

"D-dad...?" I say with barely a whisper, trying to overcome all the fears that aggressively invade me. "Please, can I tell you one thing?"

"Not now Kerem. Dad is working. And we already talked about when dad works..."

"...you don't have to bother him. Yes, I know."

But dad always works, all the time, there's no way he can do anything other than work, sometimes we can't even eat together and when that happens, his cell phone doesn't stop ringing or he has to travel, or we're rarely together and it is mandatory work to have to go where he indicates to eat, to do what corresponds.

And not misbehave.

Don't do anything that's out of their rules like the main one "Don't disturb dad when he's working" and dad is always working, that's the part we haven't talked about before.

"It's just that" I start with a timid voice, trying to advance a little bit, "I have something important that I want to talk to you about."

"Kerem, think again. Is what you are going to say really important?

"Well I think yes."

"Do you think so?"

"I guess."

"Then it's not entirely important. But you're already here and you already distracted me, please, be brief."

He puts his things aside for a moment, adjusts his glasses off the bridge of his nose and stands up with a long sigh in position in my direction.

I feel agitated as if I've run one of those races they make us do at school, my chest heaving, my throat starting to ache. But I have to say it and he is waiting.

"It's just that... the teacher of... of the school... offered me a scholarship... to study in another place called the academy and I need to know if you and mom give me permission."

"Teacher?"

"Yes."

"Master of what?"

"One of my teachers of special...subjects."

"Art."

"Y...yes, dad."

How lucky that he was the one who said it. I didn't have to face the difficult part on my own. I look at the ground, my hands clasped together.

"Why are we talking about this, Kerem?"

"It's because it's an important opportunity, the teacher says that the best visual artists today work with..."

"What are we talking about, Kerem?! Do you think this is something important?!"

His screams begin to pierce my ears.

Yes, we talked about it.

He stands up like a wild animal and at his screams I feel completely small, I lack strength, my knees ache and I find it difficult to stand.

My throat closes even more, it hurts. It hurts me a lot.

"It's just that, dad..."

"Don't you see that I'm working?! Can't you see I'm getting distracted in the middle of something that makes it possible for you to go to school and have all the tastes you have?!"

"Sorry, sorry, sorry." Now I regret saying what I said, doing what I did. I regret and hate the art teacher for putting the idea into my head again that I can become good at this. I am not and if I am, it is not something that was made for me.

"Go right now and think about what you just did, Kerem!! Because wasted time is wasted money, that's why you have school, sports, extracurricular language activities!"

I didn't ask for any of that.

Any.

I don't want sports, I don't want this school that only looks for topics related to numbers, I don't want language activities.

"Yes Dad. Sorry," I say, backing up, before he gets to me once he starts moving forward.

I hang on to the door handle and open it.

As I'm leaving, I feel the blow that hits me on the head, pushing me forward and I fall to my knees on the ground.

Behind, I perceive his door slamming shut with force.

I look up and mom is there. Watching me. With shame. I know, she's ashamed of me, but also of herself because she doesn't dare defend me from dad. She will never have the strength to face Dad. That's clear.

"Kerem," she barely murmurs, and instead of helping me to my feet, she tells me with her voice full of anger. "Now go to your room!"

With tears and anger welling up inside me once again, there are so many words I want to say, but they all get stuck together in my chest, in my mouth, unable to come out. I just lock myself in my room and soak the pillow with a cry full of anger.

JULIET

Something wakes me up. Is the bed moving? Almost. The mattress.

I am on my side, observing a part of Kerem's room that I find difficult at first to adjust to reality to know once again that I am the one who is here and I must adjust to what is around us.

I turn to him and find that he is sweating.

His jaw is strong, there are tears slipping from the corners of his eyes and his hands are balled into fists as he jerks back and forth in the middle of a nightmare.

I'm afraid I'll wake him up and he'll hit me, that he'll think I'm a threat, so I pull back a bit and debate whether or not I should get him out of this nightmare. I'm scared. It is like a beast that they have locked up, it is suffering, it is caged, but it fears that it will be released and with all the pain that it has inside, it may become a vile threat to those who try to protect it.

Kerem...what are you? What have they done with you? What terrifies you so much? They have treated you so badly during all these years that I feel full of fury knowing what has happened and I no longer know how to help you without being destroyed in the attempt.