In the shuttle bus to the airplane, I break into scraps of conversational Turkish with a group of teenage boys from Kahramanmaraş. Even the boldest among them–a boy with smooth hair and light eyes–is subject to bolts of shyness. They are at the closing of a school trip, and remain curious–asking me about my Turkish boyfriend in simple phrases, often repeating themselves over and over until I get a general idea. Or until I make a wild stab at a sentence, hoping that my answer might relate to their question. They often divide into small groups and confer, then one representative returns with a new inquiry.

In the airplane I have an aisle seat across from the light-eyed one, who continues his attempts at chitchat across the aisle. In the window seat of my row sits the boy who most resembled my brother–sheepish and kind. He seems to have a…