it’s a prayer. He does the same thing to Sinan. Then he squats in front of me for a few seconds, looking at me with those pale jade eyes in the way I do not deserve. “We will not forget what you’ve done for us. I will not forget,” he says quietly, and then he leaves.
When I recover from that moment, I tend to Sinan and Tercan. I wash their bodies, spoon broth and tea down their throats, rub the last of my eucalyptus and clove oil on their chests, lay cool cloths over their foreheads, and sing them every song I know. Sinan opens his eyes from time to time, sees that I’m there, and falls back into restless sleep. Tercan is much more far gone. There is a faint purple blue cast to his lips, and his breathing is labored and unsteady, like someone is sitting on his chest.
Late in the evening my father comes. He listens to Sinan’s chest and nods to himself, answering some question posed inside his own head. Then he does the same with Tercan, but whatever he hears makes him frown. “This is very bad, Wen. He has developed pneumonia.”
And with those words I know what I’ve feared all afternoon is going to come to pass.
Tercan is going to die.
I REFUSE TO leave Tercan’s side. My father tells me I should get some rest, but he does not argue with me when I say I’m staying. I mop Tercan’s brow, hold his hand, even pray to a God I do not believe in. If this boy dies, I have killed him. I will live with this crime forever on my conscience. That knowledge crowds out all the thoughts in my head until the pressure grows unbearable and my eyeballs ache with it. Until my skin stretches tight and hot. Until every part of me hurts with the understanding of what I have done.
Long after night falls I make my confession. I whisper it in Tercan’s ear while tears roll down my face. How I never knew the Ghost was real, how I never imagined he would answer my challenge in such a horrible way. How sorry I am, how he does not deserve what has happened.
Melik returns a little after dawn, and by that time I ache so fiercely that I can barely move, but I don’t want him to see, don’t want him to guess. I release Tercan’s limp, clammy hand and slowly stand up. Along the walls flowers bloom orange and red, the color of my sunset cotton dress. I blink slowly; my eyes feel too big and swollen for my head. My conscience is choking me from the inside out.
“How are they?” Melik asks as I get to my feet. His voice comes to me from underwater, and I try to shake my head to clear it, but the effort makes me dizzy and I lean against a wall. I need to tell him about Tercan, how his friend will die because of me. I should give him the chance to hate me properly. But before I can get the words out, his expression changes from serious to frantic. “Wen? Are you feeling all right?”
I brush my hair from my eyes, but my scalp is so sensitive that instead of words, only a whimper comes from my mouth. Melik is in front of me right away, ducking his head to try to get me to look at him. He sticks his fingers under my chin and his eyes go wide. His palm is across my forehead in the next instant. “You’re burning up.”
“It’s all right. I’ll go home now,” I say.
I take two steps, and suddenly the floor rushes up to greet me. Right before I hit, the world tilts and I’m in Melik’s arms. His clothes smell of the killing floor, and my stomach roils. But his shoulder is the perfect resting place for my head, which is good because it’s too heavy to hold up right now.
“I’ll take you,” he says quietly.
The cool morning air is pure relief to my burning skin. I lick my dry lips and sigh as the light wind caresses my face. Before I’m ready to give up the breeze, we’re inside the factory again. The sounds of killing are sharp and painful in my ears, and I cringe against Melik’s chest.
“What are you doing with this girl?” The voice is nasal and all weasel. Mugo. He’s in early today.
Melik tenses. His arms
When I recover from that moment, I tend to Sinan and Tercan. I wash their bodies, spoon broth and tea down their throats, rub the last of my eucalyptus and clove oil on their chests, lay cool cloths over their foreheads, and sing them every song I know. Sinan opens his eyes from time to time, sees that I’m there, and falls back into restless sleep. Tercan is much more far gone. There is a faint purple blue cast to his lips, and his breathing is labored and unsteady, like someone is sitting on his chest.
Late in the evening my father comes. He listens to Sinan’s chest and nods to himself, answering some question posed inside his own head. Then he does the same with Tercan, but whatever he hears makes him frown. “This is very bad, Wen. He has developed pneumonia.”
And with those words I know what I’ve feared all afternoon is going to come to pass.
Tercan is going to die.
I REFUSE TO leave Tercan’s side. My father tells me I should get some rest, but he does not argue with me when I say I’m staying. I mop Tercan’s brow, hold his hand, even pray to a God I do not believe in. If this boy dies, I have killed him. I will live with this crime forever on my conscience. That knowledge crowds out all the thoughts in my head until the pressure grows unbearable and my eyeballs ache with it. Until my skin stretches tight and hot. Until every part of me hurts with the understanding of what I have done.
Long after night falls I make my confession. I whisper it in Tercan’s ear while tears roll down my face. How I never knew the Ghost was real, how I never imagined he would answer my challenge in such a horrible way. How sorry I am, how he does not deserve what has happened.
Melik returns a little after dawn, and by that time I ache so fiercely that I can barely move, but I don’t want him to see, don’t want him to guess. I release Tercan’s limp, clammy hand and slowly stand up. Along the walls flowers bloom orange and red, the color of my sunset cotton dress. I blink slowly; my eyes feel too big and swollen for my head. My conscience is choking me from the inside out.
“How are they?” Melik asks as I get to my feet. His voice comes to me from underwater, and I try to shake my head to clear it, but the effort makes me dizzy and I lean against a wall. I need to tell him about Tercan, how his friend will die because of me. I should give him the chance to hate me properly. But before I can get the words out, his expression changes from serious to frantic. “Wen? Are you feeling all right?”
I brush my hair from my eyes, but my scalp is so sensitive that instead of words, only a whimper comes from my mouth. Melik is in front of me right away, ducking his head to try to get me to look at him. He sticks his fingers under my chin and his eyes go wide. His palm is across my forehead in the next instant. “You’re burning up.”
“It’s all right. I’ll go home now,” I say.
I take two steps, and suddenly the floor rushes up to greet me. Right before I hit, the world tilts and I’m in Melik’s arms. His clothes smell of the killing floor, and my stomach roils. But his shoulder is the perfect resting place for my head, which is good because it’s too heavy to hold up right now.
“I’ll take you,” he says quietly.
The cool morning air is pure relief to my burning skin. I lick my dry lips and sigh as the light wind caresses my face. Before I’m ready to give up the breeze, we’re inside the factory again. The sounds of killing are sharp and painful in my ears, and I cringe against Melik’s chest.
“What are you doing with this girl?” The voice is nasal and all weasel. Mugo. He’s in early today.
Melik tenses. His arms
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