ones who gave them tea and held their heads the day before. I cannot help it; I like to watch them together. I cannot reconcile these men who care for one another so tenderly with the image of the Noor fed to me my whole life. Untrustworthy and warlike. Greedy and cutthroat. I don’t understand how the two could be so different.
With the help of the healthy ones, I mop the floors and scrub the walls with antiseptic wash. It leaves the whole place smelling astringent and sharp, but that’s better than the humid haze of terrible scents that accumulated in here with so many sick, dirty men piled on top of one another. I work late into the night, and then I get up early and start the process again.
By the time Saturday comes, Melik is ready to go back to work. Many of the Noor are, and my father clears them one by one. A few hours before the shift is set to begin, I walk down to the dorms to check on the ones who are bedridden, armed with my willow bark tea and a new batch of ginger cough drops, which, it turns out, most of the Noor really like. Sinan in particular is crazy for them. Although I am bone weary and sleep deprived, I am almost smiling as I walk down the hall, because this is it—we’ve gotten the Noor through this with only two casualties, which is much better than we expected. If I still thought the Ghost was a ghost, I might be giving him some of the credit for this. But because he’s not, I know the credit belongs to my father, myself, and the rest of the Noor, who took care of one another when almost no one else would.
I arrive at Melik’s room. He sits on the floor in his newly washed overalls, looking pale but strong. The look on his face, though, is of pure pain. Tercan’s head is in his lap, and Sinan is sprawled out on the pallet next to his. Both boys look desperately ill, sweat-soaked and shivering. The room reeks of vomit.
“Since last night,” Melik says in a choked voice.
“Why didn’t you come get me?”
He grimaces and looks away. “I tried. Underboss Mugo said you and your father were unavailable, and he sent me back here.”
My contempt for Mugo knots my gut. “I’m sorry. I should have come this morning.”
I squat and run my fingers over the boys’ fevered brows. Tercan’s forehead is blazing; his fever is much higher than Sinan’s, much hotter than nearly anything I’ve felt. I lower my head to Tercan’s chest and hear the rattling, wet, labored sounds of lungs filling with fluid. It frightens me, but I try not to let Melik see it. “Can you help me? I want to keep Tercan’s foot elevated, but I think he’ll breathe better if his head and chest are raised too.”
Melik obeys without questioning. “Maybe I should stay,” he says. “I don’t want to leave them.” I think he saw my fear after all.
“You can, but you’ve missed two whole shifts. You need to earn the money. That’s what you came here to do, isn’t it?”
He runs a hand over his short hair. I can tell it used to be much longer by the way his fingers flutter, grasping at red-and-rust locks that are long gone. “Something like that. Mugo has informed me that we will be charged for the broth and the supplies we used.” His smile is full of bitterness. “Broth is very expensive around here.”
Particularly given the fact that the cows are right here in this factory. This is ridiculous. Right then and there I make up my mind to sell more of my dresses to cover some of these costs. But I don’t tell Melik that, because I know he will argue. He will insist they can pay for it, because he is proud. Because he does not know his place.
I do not want him to know his place.
“So,” I say, settling into the corner between the sick boys, pulling out two wooden cups and pouring the tea, “you’d better get moving. You never know when the shift whistle will go off early.”
With a solemn expression he places the palm of his hand over Tercan’s heart and says something in Noor, and I wonder if
With the help of the healthy ones, I mop the floors and scrub the walls with antiseptic wash. It leaves the whole place smelling astringent and sharp, but that’s better than the humid haze of terrible scents that accumulated in here with so many sick, dirty men piled on top of one another. I work late into the night, and then I get up early and start the process again.
By the time Saturday comes, Melik is ready to go back to work. Many of the Noor are, and my father clears them one by one. A few hours before the shift is set to begin, I walk down to the dorms to check on the ones who are bedridden, armed with my willow bark tea and a new batch of ginger cough drops, which, it turns out, most of the Noor really like. Sinan in particular is crazy for them. Although I am bone weary and sleep deprived, I am almost smiling as I walk down the hall, because this is it—we’ve gotten the Noor through this with only two casualties, which is much better than we expected. If I still thought the Ghost was a ghost, I might be giving him some of the credit for this. But because he’s not, I know the credit belongs to my father, myself, and the rest of the Noor, who took care of one another when almost no one else would.
I arrive at Melik’s room. He sits on the floor in his newly washed overalls, looking pale but strong. The look on his face, though, is of pure pain. Tercan’s head is in his lap, and Sinan is sprawled out on the pallet next to his. Both boys look desperately ill, sweat-soaked and shivering. The room reeks of vomit.
“Since last night,” Melik says in a choked voice.
“Why didn’t you come get me?”
He grimaces and looks away. “I tried. Underboss Mugo said you and your father were unavailable, and he sent me back here.”
My contempt for Mugo knots my gut. “I’m sorry. I should have come this morning.”
I squat and run my fingers over the boys’ fevered brows. Tercan’s forehead is blazing; his fever is much higher than Sinan’s, much hotter than nearly anything I’ve felt. I lower my head to Tercan’s chest and hear the rattling, wet, labored sounds of lungs filling with fluid. It frightens me, but I try not to let Melik see it. “Can you help me? I want to keep Tercan’s foot elevated, but I think he’ll breathe better if his head and chest are raised too.”
Melik obeys without questioning. “Maybe I should stay,” he says. “I don’t want to leave them.” I think he saw my fear after all.
“You can, but you’ve missed two whole shifts. You need to earn the money. That’s what you came here to do, isn’t it?”
He runs a hand over his short hair. I can tell it used to be much longer by the way his fingers flutter, grasping at red-and-rust locks that are long gone. “Something like that. Mugo has informed me that we will be charged for the broth and the supplies we used.” His smile is full of bitterness. “Broth is very expensive around here.”
Particularly given the fact that the cows are right here in this factory. This is ridiculous. Right then and there I make up my mind to sell more of my dresses to cover some of these costs. But I don’t tell Melik that, because I know he will argue. He will insist they can pay for it, because he is proud. Because he does not know his place.
I do not want him to know his place.
“So,” I say, settling into the corner between the sick boys, pulling out two wooden cups and pouring the tea, “you’d better get moving. You never know when the shift whistle will go off early.”
With a solemn expression he places the palm of his hand over Tercan’s heart and says something in Noor, and I wonder if
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