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the house in the morning. But no cleaning could get rid of the bruise.
It looked as though the force of the bullet had sent everything inside
his skull bashing up against his eye sockets.
Leave us, Sinan said to 0smail.
When the boy was gone, Sinan said, My father was murdered.
Marcus snapped two plastic packages in half. He took gauze from
the first-aid kit, surrounded the foot with the ice packs, and wrapped
them tightly with tape.
Sinan sucked air through his teeth. Yes, that hurts.
Marcus was careful not to push too much with the tips of his fin-
gers, but instead cradled the foot in his palm, and Sinan felt a strange,
involuntary gratitude, like a man who has had his shame exposed and
hidden once again.
I, myself, had to pull the bullet out of his cheek. It was an M-16.
Marcus hesitated, then finished wrapping his foot, and finally
looked at Sinan.
I m a teacher, Sinan.
Your government sold those weapons to
I ve lived in this country for nineteen years. He snapped shut the
first-aid kit. It s not my government.
He stood to leave.
We have good tents, he said, ones that will keep the water out
when it rains, ones that will give your family some privacy. We re set-
ting up a school, we ve got toilets, we have food. It s not good for the
children, Marcus added. The exhaust fumes, the
Please . . . Sinan took a deep breath and waited until he could
control his voice. My friend, do not tell me what s good for my chil-
dren as if I do not know.
You cannot stay here and you know it.
I know many things, Marcus Bey.
108 Al an Dr e w
Marcus nodded as though he were giving up. Many horrible
things happen in the world, he said. I, too, wish I had someone to
blame for them.
He briefly placed his hand on Sinan s shoulder, and Sinan
thought it was to remind him of a debt. Then he left the tent.
Nilfer watched the American go.
We have to go to the camp, she said softly when he was gone.
I know, he said.
We cannot stay here, she went on, as though she didn t hear
him.
I know! he said, kicking the floor with his good foot. He was
tired, so tired, and he was sick of fighting a war a long, old, futile
war that was over now anyway. I know.
Par t Two
Chapt er 22
utside into the sun, and not to buy vegetables or
O
to pick up shirts at the tailors! Outside without her mother dragging
her by the hand and without eyes watching to make sure she didn t
look at the boys smoking on the corner. She couldn t deny that she
was happier since the earthquake she felt a little guilty for it, but she
couldn t help it; for a few hours a day, between meals at the soup
kitchen, she was free in a way she hadn t been since she was a child.
It was a hot day and she passed the men playing backgammon and
smoking near the soup kitchen. She passed one of the Americans
playing a guitar on a red folding chair near a fire pit. He wore shorts
and she could see the thick muscles of his legs where they disap-
peared into the darkness of the fabric. A few of the other workers sat
on a blanket and sang with the man, happy-sounding songs they occa-
sionally clapped to. She looked for Dylan at the soup kitchen. She
looked for him at the school tent and at the soccer field, where the
American men and even some of the women kicked up clouds of dust
with orphan boys of the camp.
Down one of the rows, she found Dilek and Ay_e swinging a rope
in the street, a game the American women had been teaching the
girls. A little girl she didn t know jumped in the middle, her black hair
slapping against her back as her feet hit the ground.
112 Al an Dr e w
0rem, can1m, Dilek said when she saw her coming. She dropped
the rope and the little girl got tangled up.
Dilek! the girl yelled.
Ay_e laughed and helped untangle the girl, while Dilek and 0rem
greeted each other with kisses on each cheek. Smiling, Dilek took
0rem s arm and they walked together back toward the jump rope.
How s your mother? 0rem asked.
Dilek s smile disappeared and she jerked her head in an uncom-
fortable way, as though 0rem s question had reminded her of some-
thing she had forgotten. In front of the tent, Ay_e and the little girl
uncoiled the rope. 0rem said hello and kissed Ay_e on both cheeks.
She won t come out of the tent, Dilek said. She scratched her el-
bow and looked away. Her arms were sunburned and blistered in a few
places. Dilek was 0rem s age, but she wore short-sleeve shirts and some-
times even shorts. To 0rem, Dilek s clothing made her look like a little
girl instead of a woman, and she fought back disdain for her friend s
lack of modesty. But when 0rem remembered the freedom of her
childhood the warmth of the sun on her legs, the coolness of the
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