Gardens of Water (81 page)

“I’m sorry.” He bent down and brushed the dirt from the boy’s knees.

smail’s eyes were wet and Sinan wished he had kept his mouth shut. The boy was innocent still, innocent even after all he had experienced, and he did not want to ruin that. “I’m sorry.” He kissed
smail on the forehead. “
Dede
would have loved you. He would have loved you very much. I wish you had met him, too.”

“Maybe I’ll meet him in Heaven.”

“Someday, maybe.”

They began walking again and for a few moments they were quiet.

“Too many people die, Baba.”

“Yes,” Sinan said. “Too many die.”

THE MAYOR BROUGHT SINAN
the hindquarters, and Sinan offered him tea until a soldier came.

“I’m causing a ‘disruption,’” the mayor said to Sinan. He stood quietly when the gendarme touched his elbow, and he didn’t fight as they led him by the arm out of the camp.

Nilüfer cooked the meat into a stew. It was tough, but it was meat, and it was meat slaughtered by a Muslim.

After dinner, Sinan was still angry. So angry it unsettled his stomach. He took a walk to calm down, and passed two men yelling at one of the soldiers. The soldier stood with his rifle by his side and stared straight ahead as though the men were not there. Even though it wasn’t prayer time, he went to mosque. There he found
mam Ali alone, cleaning the mihrab with a wet towel.

“Good evening, Sinan Bey,” the
mam said.

“
yi ak
amlar.”

Sinan sat on the rugs and his body settled with a familiar weariness, as though his insides were made of wet dough. The
mam sat next to him. “I’m tired,” Sinan said.

mam Ali touched Sinan’s hand and held it. His palm was warm and callused and it reminded him of his father’s. He had forgotten what it was like to be comforted by a man. A man understands what another man feels in a way a woman cannot. A woman’s comfort can make you feel alone, but not a man’s. Ahmet was the last man to understand, the last man who knew him.

“You’ll kill yourself with anger, Sinan.”

“I don’t know what to do,
Efendi.
”

“Do nothing, Sinan. You must submit to God’s will.”

He looked at the
mam. The man’s eyes were red-rimmed; one was clouded over and Sinan thought he might be blind in it.

“Life begins and ends when it should, even your daughter’s.” He touched Sinan’s hand to his forehead and then to his heart. “God has a plan you cannot control. You must accept that, no matter how painful. Accept that and the pain will fade.”

Submit, though, meant “do nothing” and when he left the mosque, just as the muezzin began the nighttime call to prayer, he was even angrier than before. Why would God give us a brain, why would he give us free will if we are only to submit If we were only meant to submit then we might as well lie down in the dirt and die right now, we may as well let ourselves be killed.

When he got back to the tent,
smail was tucked into his sleeping bag and drawing in his book. Nilüfer lay asleep with her hand resting on the boy’s back, her exhausted snores ruffling the fabric of the tent.

Sinan sat next to
smail and kissed him on the back of the neck. The boy squirmed.