A small sad smile appeared on her lips, “I know too much already to go asking for more,” she sighed looking at him. Her life had become a tangled mess, Ollie being the number one reason. It was a side she hadn’t seen of him: inconsolable rage due to the loss of their child. Alejandra reminded herself that he left, he couldn’t protect her and that guilt wasn’t hers to bear, but she still did. “How is that? Being a journalist, I mean,” she asked, trying to take the attention off herself, it was better that way.
“You flatter me, Altan,” she wasn’t meant for another, knowing the problems that followed her were too great for anyone else to take on. A sharp chuckle escaped her lips, “you can try of course,” she offered him, “but there’s no guarantee,” she didn’t want to lead the poor man on when she had so much more to deal with, “I just don’t want to see you hurt,” she said honestly.
Shrugging, “I don’t remember much of it, I was quite young.” She thought about the stories her father and mother told her, “my parents said it was beautiful despite the problems with the government. They said Miami was as close as they could get, but even then, they were forced out due to overpricing things.” She knew her parents had gone through a lot to raise their daughter and her choice of profession was a spit in their face as her father repeated to her over and over again. “Was Turkey beautiful?” Shaking her head as he apologized, “there’s no reason to apologize, it’s nice to listen to.”
“You seem appreciative of what you have though - so many people want more and more. You just seem like you - like you already know that more can be dangerous, that what you have is just good enough.” He smiled, and shifted a little in his chair. “How is it being a journalist? Well - it’s not exactly a walk in the park, I’ll say. A lot of late hours, a lot of chaos, and you really have to get into a story. There’s no chance to ask for forgiveness and people might think you’re heartless, but - but there’s something to be said about wanting the truth so bad you can just taste it - you live for it. My parents instilled that in me - the truth is all we have.” He smiled, shrugging. “I started the newspaper with my family, so it feels like something bigger than me. It could be something I give to my children, you know? My father - My father would have wanted it that way, I know he would have.” Altan smiled sadly at the thought, at the sad thought that his father was no longer here to see any of it.
“See me hurt? The thing is, Alejandra, I’m willing to take that all on. I’ve been hurt more than you think and I’m a journalist - I got thick skin.” He laughed as he got a little closer. “Listen, you told me now and I heard your warning, so it’s on me if I get hurt, right? It’s on me.” He smiled, flashing her a wink. “No need to feel guilty now.”
He took a sip of his drink and looked back, listening intently. “Sounds beautiful. Miami is great too - I’ve been a few times with a few friends. Lovely culture.” He smiled. “Oh, Turkey? To me, it’s the most beautiful place in the entire world, but to others it’s dusty and too loud. It’s full of good people just trying to make it and do the best they can. That is who my parents are - there, my mother was a photographer and my father was a professor. They came to America for me when I was young, but at their own expense. I knew I wanted to give back to them.”
