Halima's Lemon Cake

Selin didn't want to discuss it on the phone. She waited for Sunday lunch at her grandmother's apartment in Kadıköy.

Her grandmother opened the door and looked at the two girls.

“Grandma, this is Halima,” Selin said. “She's my girlfriend.”

Her grandmother said nothing. She pointed at the table. “Sit down. The rice is hot.”

They ate. Halima was quiet.

“Where are you from?” her grandmother asked.

“Ankara,” Halima said. “Well, near Ankara.”

“Good. My sister lives there.”

After the rice, Halima put a small lemon cake on the table. Her grandmother ate one piece. Then she ate a second piece.

“This cake is better than my cake,” she said. “Next Sunday, bring two.”

Selin looked at Halima and smiled.