"Lady, if you don't get me wrong, don't the ring on your finger mean that you are either married or engaged? Why are you hitting on me?"

I'm startled by this reply from Airbnb. First I look at the message, then at my finger in bewilderment. How could he have seen the fucking ring on my finger? And why would asking for a room in the house mean I would be hitting on him?

"Sir, you misunderstood me completely. Yes, the ring on my finger shows that I am engaged (however you saw that ring?). But asking for a place to stay doesn't mean I'm hitting on you. It only shows that I need a place to stay. I texted you because I found the cleanest place I could find on my tourist visa."

As I write the message, I look around me. I can't understand it because there is no one in sight that I think could have written this message. Even if there is someone in sight, how does he know it was me?

I get an instant reply.

"Was it that easy to get a word in edgewise?"

God, what does that mean? My dad... It means they realized what I was doing and they came after me. I came all the way here and got busted because of Airbnb? Did they realize right away that I was going to look for a house here? Was my plan that simple? I have to do something. I immediately get up from my seat. I try to tidy my hair with shaking hands. The first thing I do when I'm nervous is to tidy my hair. It's as if it allows thoughts to move more easily through the folds of my brain. My eye area opens, my field of vision seems to widen. I drop the barrette because my hands are shaking. I bend down to pick it up and put it in my hair. Another hand touches the barrette with mine. I look up. God, after a few seconds of near heart attack, I see him again.

At the peak of nervousness I shout, "God, you're everywhere!"

I can't even understand how that sounds because of my unpracticed English. But Ezra laughs, "Seriously girl, could you be a spy or something?"

"What are you talking about?"

This time I manage to tidy my hair and Ezra turns my computer towards us. "Don't you know who you're texting?"

"How would I know? And what do you know?"

"Hey, it's me you're texting. I own that rental room. I mean, I'm actually a tenant in that place too, but I was looking for a roommate because I couldn't keep up with the rent on my own. Then you texted me. When I saw you texting right in front of me, I wanted to mess with you a little. There is no other Meryem Altinel nearby."

I'm so happy and so angry at the same time that I make a gesture that I'm torn between hugging him and slapping him. I guess the gesture is perceived closer to a hug because Ezra responds with a hug.

"Wow, I never thought you'd be so happy about that. Why were you so scared before, what could have happened?"

I don't know how to explain it to him, so as I sit down on the chair, I say, "I wasn't nervous, I guess yesterday's illness made me feel a little uncomfortable. So it's your apartment, will you accept me as a roommate?"

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He puts his hands in front of his mouth like he's over-emotional and shouts, "Oh my God, yes! Yes forever!" A few people sitting there applaud.

"Clown," I whisper as I look at his face in shock.

"Well, I thought I could get your ring in return, so it was worth a try," he says with a laugh. He settles in the chair, directly opposite me.

Why is he so amused by this? Do I really have no sense of humor? "Really, what's so funny? You can say you don't want to be roommates without being so sarcastic."

His face falls. "No, Meryem. That's what you and I don't agree on. I like to have fun. I didn't refuse to be your roommate, but I don't see how it can work when you don't know how to have fun."

I turn off my computer screen, "I'll give you two hundred dollars more than you put there and I'll cook dinner."

His lips curve upwards, "So we're negotiating."

I tilt my head and examine his face, "You really look like a clown. I even think you look a bit like the Joker."

"Then Meryem," he says, bringing his head closer to mine, "You better get used to this face. Because we are roommates now."

I am so happy to hear this that I immediately hug his neck. "Thank you!" I almost scream. Another round of applause breaks out. "You Americans are really waiting for something to happen so we can applaud!"

I run to the hotel. When I enter the reception, I shout, "John, I found a place!"

John gives me a shush with his finger while smiling all around. Of course, of course, the other guests and so on and so forth... I rush to my room to pack my stuff. I'm not spread out much anyway. I've taken very little out of my suitcase so it's very easy to pack. I send a message to my father,

"I'm going to rent an apartment because I'm having a hard time in the hotel. We'll talk about the rent on the phone."

I better say this before he realizes that I am no longer staying in a hotel. Anyway, I think my father would prefer me to stay in my own house and cook and eat halal food than to stay in a hotel.

I take my suitcase and jacket and go down to the reception desk. I ask John to check me out. We whisper to each other while he checks me out. When he finds out who I'm moving in with, he laughs suggestively, "Somehow I'm not surprised by that."

I get the implication. I show him my ring and say, "See this? This gets in the way of your implication. I mean, I'm innocent."

He waves his hand as if to say never mind, "From the moment I saw you, I've felt that what's on your finger is not a ring but a handcuff. And I think you'll eventually get rid of it."

I fall silent, fiddling with my ring, waiting for John to end the proceedings because I have no answer to what he says.

***

"What is your working schedule like here? You and Georgie, are you on and off? I mean, you're here morning and night."

With my suitcase in my hand and my jacket on, I'm in front of the bar I entered two or three days ago. I'm waiting for Ezra to lock the doors.

"There is no such thing as the concept of working hours. This is Georgie's. Georgie is my friend from high school. I used to come here when I had time off from my classes and I was paid by the day. Now I'm almost out of grad school. So I can spend more time here. There's not much to keep me home at night, so I don't mind staying here when Georgie is home."

I'm guessing that he, like me, has things he's too tired to talk about. I can't take back my question, so instead I stick out my tongue to clear the air and make a bored gesture, "You didn't have to tell me your whole life."

"Did I? I'll leave you here and you'll see!" he says and starts running. I stay where I am because I think it's a joke and he's going to stop and wait, but he doesn't. I start running after him. Oh my God, what kind of a guy is this? I'm running after him with the suitcase in my hand and he's laughing and laughing. When the wheel of my suitcase gets stuck on a stone and slows me down, I think of kicking his ass. I pretend to fall. I turn my back to him, lower my gaze to the ground. My hair covers my face.

He calls out, " Meryem!"

I don't answer. I don't move. I want him to be scared. As a matter of fact, I hear his hurried footsteps approaching me. The moment he puts his hand on my shoulder, I look up. "Boo!"

"Oh, fuck! You scared the shit out of me!"

I stand up and hand him my suitcase. "Who says I don't have a sense of humor? I do, don't I? Because I'm having so much fun right now!"

He laughs with me. We take a side street and enter the apartment building. Although the decrepit appearance of the apartment makes me question my sudden decision, I change my mind as soon as I enter the apartment. This is a nice apartment.

Ezra shows me my room, "You can stay here, the bed is comfortable. I mean, I guess so. And the closet is empty. Since you don't have a lot of stuff, you'll fit comfortably. Our rent is due tomorrow, so I'd appreciate it if you paid right away."

As I take my suitcase to the room, I take a look around the room. Indeed, this is a very clean and organized room. "I'll give you the money soon. It looks like another woman has stayed here before."

"I don't have to tell you my whole life," he says with a wink as I leave the room.

I get a little angry at my own indiscretion, wondering what I might have inadvertently implied.