No more empty spaces, p.20
No More Empty Spaces, page 20
That’s all that’s going on. (Except for almost drowning, he thought one last time, at least the last time while writing that letter.) Miss you, Mom.
Love, Kevin
* * *
Kevin turned out the light in the boys’ room. They were supposed to get to sleep, because they’d be leaving for home early the next morning.
Rob’s voice came from across the room. “For once it was you making the bonehead move,” he said.
“Yeah,” Timur agreed.
“How the hell do you forget to come up for air?” Rob asked.
“I was busy,” Kevin said.
“Too busy to breathe?” Rob laughed and Timur joined in. Even Kevin smiled into the darkness. That did sound pretty stupid.
“Were you scared?” Rob asked. “Did you think you were gonna die?”
“Do you really want to know?”
“I do,” Timur said.
“Me too,” Rob said. “What was it like?”
Kevin thought for a minute; then he took a deep breath, and he was aware of it, breathing.
“I’m not even sure I remember it all,” he said. “But when I realized I was out of air, I did kind of panic. That felt scary. And I tried to get to the surface, but I just had to breathe before I got there, and I sucked in a bunch of water and choked on it, I think. But I don’t know if I was really thinking anymore by then. It was all just sort of happening. But then, it was kind of amazing, it was like I was hanging in the water, watching myself, watching my body. It went limp, my body, and started sinking, and it got to the bottom and settled there, real gently. And I was watching it all. I didn’t feel panicky at all. I felt fine. I felt like I was right where I wanted to be, kind of suspended, in the ocean, in time. It was like when you have a flying dream, and you’re magically hovering in the air. . . .” Kevin paused. “Then I don’t remember anything else. Until the beach.”
“Dude, did you see the white light?” Rob asked.
“Are you being an asshole? ’Cause if you are, fuck you. You said you wanted to know, so I told you. Maybe I did make a bonehead move, but you could try not being a dick, for once. And just in case you weren’t, on that off chance—no, I didn’t see any light. But that time, that time floating in the sea and in space, that was amazing, and I’ll never forget it.”
THIRTY-ONE
Will went directly to Borkan’s office, tapped his knuckles twice on the door, then reached for the knob to let himself in. The door was locked. Odd, Will thought. He glanced around the office. It looked like the junior staff were all in the field, as usual, their desks unoccupied. He checked his watch: two o’clock. Too late for Erdem to be at lunch, too early for him to have left for the day.
Will needed to talk with him, to brainstorm how they could make the dam, and the reservoir, safe—and keep their jobs. Kayakale was home. Will didn’t want to leave, and he didn’t want to uproot his family again, especially after what had happened. He needed things to settle. He needed for his family to get their feet back under them. He needed to get his bearings. Now was not the time for a complete change in course.
Will let himself into his office. It was just as he’d left it, a neat stack of field reports on one side of the desk, waiting to be filed. The other side was clear, for now. By the end of the day, he expected it to be piled with his staff’s field reports from the past week.
He saw the envelope when he pulled his chair out to sit down. It said, simply, “Will Ross” in Erdem’s impeccable handwriting. Will sank into the chair, holding the letter, unopened, in his hands. He tipped his head back, contemplating the ceiling panels. After several minutes, he took the letter opener from his desk drawer and sliced the envelope open. He slid the handwritten pages from it and unfolded them deliberately, as he was sure Erdem would have folded them and sealed them and left them for him. It was dated June 26. Will counted back the days, five days before, last Wednesday. He thought for a moment, remembering their day at the Kızkalesi castles.
Dear Will,
You are a valued colleague, and you have also become my friend; therefore, I would have preferred to tell you in person what I will say in this letter, but I am departing for Ankara tomorrow, so this will have to do. I will submit my resignation from DECCO, effective immediately, to Gus Browning upon arrival in Ankara.
My intention is to seek a job with DSI. I feel I must do all I can to ensure the safety of the dam. This is my responsibility, both as a professional engineer and a son of Kayakale village. Based on Browning’s words and deeds, I do not believe I can do that within the ranks of the prime contractor. Perhaps I can within the ranks of DSI, the owner of the project and the regulator of Turkey’s hydroelectric program. That will be the first avenue I explore going forward.
Staying in Kayakale and working at the site would be my personal preference, as you know. Upon reflection, however, I cannot make this decision based on my desires. Nor will I indulge in a surreptitious plan to investigate the safety issues you and I have identified. That type of investigation is the kind that Browning, as my predecessor at Kayakale Dam, may have conducted, and I will not put myself in that same category of engineer. Though I believe my reasons would be in the right and his were not, it would still besmirch the title and the profession.
Matters concerning the safety of a project on the scale of Kayakale must be paramount, and public. Turkey cannot step into its rightful and deserved place in the world if we do not operate as such. I am going to Ankara to try to take my place in that process.
I have, of course, discussed this at length with Lale. Like me, her preference would be to stay in Kayakale. We missed our families very much in the years we were gone, and we now confront that prospect again. However, neither of us could face ourselves, each other, or our families if a catastrophe befell Kayakale Dam that could have been prevented.
So with a heavy heart, I again leave my home. But I leave with the hope of making Kayakale Dam safe.
Whatever your decision, I trust it will be well considered. It has been a privilege and a pleasure to work with you. I will never again take for granted the geologic framework of any foundation that an engineered project is built upon, and in that way, you have made me a better engineer. I also appreciate your great acts of friendship, particularly flying Timur to Ankara when he was hurt. Words of thanks do not seem adequate, but it is what I have to offer.
Most sincerely,
Erdem Borkan
Will stared, his eyes blank. As if in slow motion, he placed the pages down, set his elbows on the desk, leaned forward, and held his head in both hands.
“Shit,” he said. “Shit, shit, shit.”
Will hadn’t been a hundred percent sure of his decision, but he’d been inclined to stay on the job, to see if they could deal with the problem from within the project team. And he realized now, he’d counted on doing that with Erdem Borkan.
The letter was formal, eloquent, even noble. Like Erdem himself, now that Will thought about it. His colleague sounded assured of his decision, though it was not the one he wanted to make. Will asked himself if he was rationalizing, thinking he could do what was right and stay.
He raised his head and shook it. He couldn’t believe he was in this position. He’d been certain that when he and Borkan explained the situation, they’d be given the go-ahead to study it, take it on, and solve it, like they had with the dam’s foundation.
He checked the time. He had to decide by the end of the day. The week was nearly up. He had two and a half hours.
* * *
Will left a phone message with the receptionist in Ankara right before leaving his office. He said, simply, “This is Will Ross. Tell Mr. Browning I’m on the job. He’ll understand. Teşekkür ederim.”
He thought about it as he traversed the path from the office to the house, the path he had walked so many times in the past year. Was it a year? Today was the first of July. So, yes, just a few weeks shy of a year now. It had been a good year—until he found that damned slope. But not finding it wouldn’t change the fact of it, just the fact of knowing about it. A scientist could never believe that not knowing was better than knowing.
Will hoped Borkan, quiet and proper but smart and tough, would indeed land a job with DSI. As DECCO’s client, DSI could insist that the reservoir area be fully evaluated, could insist that Browning be replaced. Will hoped there was hope. His decision was to sit tight and see.
Preoccupied as he mounted the stairs to the house, Rob blindsided him, slamming out of the screen door, swinging.
“I hate you!” his son screamed, landing a few punches to Will’s chest and gut before Will got hold of his wrists. They struggled, Rob yelling and twisting in an effort to escape Will’s grasp. Paula and Didi rushed onto the porch as they scuffled.
“What the hell?” Will shouted, moving his grip to Rob’s shoulders and shaking the boy. “What’s wrong? Stop this. Tell me what’s wrong.”
“Will!” Paula said. “Be careful.”
“You know what’s wrong. It’s your fault!” Rob panted.
“What are you talking about?”
“Timur’s moving away! His mother told us his father quit. She’s packing up their house. It’s your fault.”
“What?” Paula said.
“I just found out myself, Rob. Erdem left a letter at the office.”
“You knew! You put him up to it, didn’t you? Now, Timur’s moving away. I hate you! I’m never going to speak to you again. Ever!” Rob wrenched himself from Will’s hold. He bolted down the stairs and across the square, running toward the Borkans’ house.
“Cripes.” Will looked over his shoulder at the nearby houses and the neighbors poking their heads out their doors. “At least we know where he’s going,” Will said. “Let’s go inside.”
He could stand a drink about now, though he’d wait until the rest of the crew went to bed.
* * *
Will spoke with Borkan on the phone a few days later. No news on the work front as yet, but Will wished him well—for his friend’s sake, the sake of Erdem’s family, the sake of the safety of the Kayakale project, and, he would admit it, for his own sake.
Through Paula, Rob asked to stay at the Borkans’ house. The timing of their move was uncertain, and Lale had extended an invitation to Rob for as long as she and Timur remained in Kayakale. Will was sure that Timur was as unhappy as Rob about their impending separation. The depth of the boys’ friendship was evident, and Will did feel for them.
But it wasn’t just Rob; the whole crew seemed on edge. If Paula asked him one more time if he was okay, Will thought he’d lose it. Work, which was busy as ever, in fact more so without Borkan, was a welcome excuse for him to dodge all the damned emotions at home.
A week after getting back, Will switched onto night shift. The first night was always the hardest and he dragged himself home that morning. Kevin was drying the breakfast dishes when Will walked into the kitchen to grab a glass. All he wanted was a quick drink, a shower, and sleep.
“Hi, Dad.”
“Hey, Kev.”
“Could I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Will almost groaned. “I don’t think so. Do you?”
Paula came up behind Will, wrapped her arms around his waist, and rested her chin on his shoulder, looking over it at Kevin.
“I just thought you seemed kind of, I don’t know . . . distracted? And I thought you might be worried. So I was wondering if we needed to talk about it. It was kind of a big deal.”
“Yes.” Will had to agree with that. But he didn’t even want to think about it, much less talk about it.
“I guess I just want you to know I’m not freaked out or anything. I feel fine,” Kevin said, drying his hands and folding the towel. “And there’s this . . . after I started for the surface and couldn’t make it, after the choking and stuff, something happened. It was like I was watching my body. I watched it settle to the bottom. It was like being suspended in time and space, but I wasn’t scared. It was like when you have a dream that you’re flying. Maybe it was like your best times flying, you know, Dad?”
Paula stepped around Will and hugged Kevin, murmuring something to him about how glad she was that he hadn’t been afraid. Kevin’s eyes were on Will while he returned Paula’s embrace.
Did Kevin want something from him? What? He loved his son, more than anything. He wanted to help while Kevin found his way through the aftermath of what had happened. But did this mean his son was going to end up as some la-di-da, spiritually enlightened type?
He kept himself from rolling his eyes. He wanted to do the right things, say the right things, but he didn’t know what those things were. A drink sure wouldn’t hurt right now. It would make all this talking about it a lot easier to take.
THIRTY-TWO
Paula ran more in the weeks after they got back to Kayakale than she had in a long time. The finish line of a race was a worthy goal, but in Turkey, Paula ran by and for herself. Moving her body through space always helped move her toward solutions or resolutions, of specific issues or less specific feelings. It had been her salvation from the time she was a teen. The problem that summer: Paula didn’t know what she was running through. Not at first.
She had come to love the dry, mountainous Turkish landscape, so different from the rolling green hills back home. There was a stark beauty to it. The contrasts in the landscape resonated with the contrasts she felt, between what Will and she shared before and at Kızkalesi, and what she felt, or didn’t, after the trip.
So much had happened. Kevin had almost died, Mr. Borkan had made the decision to resign, and Will had made the decision not to. There was a lot going on for Will, and Paula was doing her best to understand. But she had felt so close to him before; and afterward, he seemed so distant. He was avoiding her, avoiding all of them, even when he was home, and he wasn’t home much.
Kevin went back to work at the dig, so Paula didn’t see much of him either. Remarkably, he didn’t seem the worse for wear after nearly drowning. What he did seem was disappointed in Will. He confided to her that he believed his father was wrong in not taking a stronger stand for the dam’s safety, even if it cost him his job. Even if it meant that the Rosses had to move, like the Borkans, which Kevin admitted he didn’t want to do. To Kevin, Will’s choice had cost his father his integrity. He told her he had just begun to trust his father again, even understanding him in a way he couldn’t have a year ago, and now that trust and understanding had been shattered. Again. Kevin wouldn’t even engage in a conversation about the nuances of his father’s decision.
Rob had pretty much moved in with Timur. They’d been inseparable for nearly a year and the Borkans’ move was going to be rough on them. Paula got why Rob wanted to spend as much time with his friend as he could. She didn’t agree that Timur’s having to move was Will’s fault, but as long as she’d known Rob, that had been his position. If he could blame something on his father, he would.
Paula noticed that Didi seemed to be walking on eggshells. She wanted to make everything okay for everyone, but no one could do that. Paula spied her hugging Buddy a lot, and she hoped that helped.
And Paula . . . well, she took to the hills.
* * *
Will got up when his alarm went off, for day or night shift. When he rose, he did his push-ups and sit-ups. He worked with his field team, reviewed shift reports, compiled data, and wrote progress reports.
Days passed, then a week. And another. Like before, Will made sure to eat dinner at home at least once a week to appease Paula. He worked long hours, taking shifts in the field, then catching up on the backlog of paperwork that piled up, page by page, file by file. It filled the time until he could take his next drink.
At first, he drank in hiding. Will knew how to do this. Years ago, before Kevin was born, he’d done the same thing month after month, year after year. But he couldn’t rationalize it now—like he had years ago—and he kept telling himself he’d stop.
Soon, he wouldn’t question whether he’d made the right choice to stay on the project. Soon, he’d be able to get through a day without thinking of Kevin almost dying. And then he’d stop.
But he didn’t. He drank. And drank and drank. Scotch. Vodka. Rakı. He found out who to go to for what he needed, whenever he needed it.
As the days and nights wore on, he needed more, and he started feeling lapses. Not at work, never at work—at home, where he let his guard down. He could tell from the way his family’s eyes followed him that they were seeing something. But it would be okay, because he would stop.
Will opened the door to the boys’ bedroom one night. Buddy raised his head and thwapped his tail, and Will smiled. Kevin slept, his limbs splayed, like he so often did, and, in that moment, Will saw his son spread upon the sandy seafloor. He began to shake, and his throat closed. He couldn’t breathe. He shut the door with a trembling hand and hurried down the hall. Then, remembering Paula asleep in his bed, he continued out the front door and down the porch stairs. He ran the few remaining steps to the Land Cruiser. He’d stashed a bottle under the seat.
Relief washed over him at the first long, warm swallow. He pulled a deep breath into his hungry lungs. His hands steadied. Just one more night, he told himself. I’ll stop tomorrow.
