removed the cinder block and suddenly the shower curtain jerked.
“She’s alive,” the American said. He spoke frantically in English, and they both reached to tug loose the waterlogged curtain.
Then a miracle! “Oh God most merciful,” Sinan said when he saw it. Beneath the woman, caught in her embrace, laysmail, his face white with cement dust, his body convulsed in a coughing fit.
“smail!”
The boy’s eyes flashed open as if he were taking in the world for the first time, his pupils filling with the angry spark of life.
Sinan didn’t wait for them to remove the American wife’s body. He tugged at his son’s shoulders and dislodged him from beneath the woman’s weight, but he couldn’t pull him free. He turned to see what was holding him still, and found the woman’s hand clamped aroundsmail’s forearm. He had to wait for the American to uncurl each stiffened finger before he had his son in his arms, safe, and free from death.
Chapter 10
W HEN THEY REACHED THE PANDEMONIUM OF THE GERMAN hospital Sinan was told his son had been buried alive for nearly three days.
“Unbelievable,” the doctor said when he checked the boy in an examination room filled with dead bodies. Each body was laid out on a gurney, covered in a blue sheet, only the feet sticking out—men’s polished black shoes shining like mirrors, pink shaggy house slippers, bare toes red with enamel. “We haven’t gotten someone alive all day.”smail had a cut above his left eye, swelling around the wound where his foreskin had been cut away in the circumcision, and a mild case of dehydration. They would have to watch for internal bleeding, the doctor said.
“His body should be completely dried out.” The doctor shook his head in awed disbelief. “Unbelievable.”
“Why won’t he wake up?” Sinan asked.
“Exhaustion.”
“But he’ll wake?”
“Yes.”
The doctor turned to Sinan.
“Let me look at you. Your left eye is dilated.” The doctor shined a light in Sinan’s eyes and the pain flashed in his head. “You have a mild concussion,” he said. “We’ll have to run some tests later.” Then outside the room a door slammed, people yelled, and a man ran by with a woman hoisted over his shoulders. The doctor left and never came back, to run the tests or to do anything else.
Sinan spent the night sitting upright in a metal chair besidesmail’s bed in an icy room surrounded by seven dead bodies. He could hear the hospital’s generators laboring beyond the cold walls. He checked the walls for cracks and found one etched from ceiling to floor, marking the edges of bricks hidden beneath egg-colored paint. The other rooms of the hospital were full, the nurse told him when he asked to move the bed, and the hallways were filling up with corpses. The air conditioners had been turned up until there was space in the morgues. She darkened the room to save them the burden of seeing the bodies, and switched on a bedside lamp that threw a weak yellow glow across the bed. The darkness eased the throbbing at Sinan’s temples and for a while he could pretend that the rest of the world did not exist, that there was only his son breathing on this bed.
The boy’s face seemed sunken, diminished of muscle and fat. Sinan heldsmail’s hand and felt the bone of the knuckles, ran his fingers over the soft pads of his son’s palm. An IV punctured a vein insmail’s forearm, and Sinan noticed how tinysmail’s arms really were. Before this he had felt his son was growing too fast, his body too quickly thickening into a young man’s, but now he recognized how truly fragile he was. Life had barely taken root in him and the boy’s body seemed ready to give it up.
Sinan tucked the blanket underneathsmail’s shoulders, back, and legs. He rested his head on his hands and watched the rise and fall ofsmail’s breath, counting the seconds between each one. Sometime in the night the nurse draped a blanket over his shoulders, and, as if being
“She’s alive,” the American said. He spoke frantically in English, and they both reached to tug loose the waterlogged curtain.
Then a miracle! “Oh God most merciful,” Sinan said when he saw it. Beneath the woman, caught in her embrace, laysmail, his face white with cement dust, his body convulsed in a coughing fit.
“smail!”
The boy’s eyes flashed open as if he were taking in the world for the first time, his pupils filling with the angry spark of life.
Sinan didn’t wait for them to remove the American wife’s body. He tugged at his son’s shoulders and dislodged him from beneath the woman’s weight, but he couldn’t pull him free. He turned to see what was holding him still, and found the woman’s hand clamped aroundsmail’s forearm. He had to wait for the American to uncurl each stiffened finger before he had his son in his arms, safe, and free from death.
Chapter 10
W HEN THEY REACHED THE PANDEMONIUM OF THE GERMAN hospital Sinan was told his son had been buried alive for nearly three days.
“Unbelievable,” the doctor said when he checked the boy in an examination room filled with dead bodies. Each body was laid out on a gurney, covered in a blue sheet, only the feet sticking out—men’s polished black shoes shining like mirrors, pink shaggy house slippers, bare toes red with enamel. “We haven’t gotten someone alive all day.”smail had a cut above his left eye, swelling around the wound where his foreskin had been cut away in the circumcision, and a mild case of dehydration. They would have to watch for internal bleeding, the doctor said.
“His body should be completely dried out.” The doctor shook his head in awed disbelief. “Unbelievable.”
“Why won’t he wake up?” Sinan asked.
“Exhaustion.”
“But he’ll wake?”
“Yes.”
The doctor turned to Sinan.
“Let me look at you. Your left eye is dilated.” The doctor shined a light in Sinan’s eyes and the pain flashed in his head. “You have a mild concussion,” he said. “We’ll have to run some tests later.” Then outside the room a door slammed, people yelled, and a man ran by with a woman hoisted over his shoulders. The doctor left and never came back, to run the tests or to do anything else.
Sinan spent the night sitting upright in a metal chair besidesmail’s bed in an icy room surrounded by seven dead bodies. He could hear the hospital’s generators laboring beyond the cold walls. He checked the walls for cracks and found one etched from ceiling to floor, marking the edges of bricks hidden beneath egg-colored paint. The other rooms of the hospital were full, the nurse told him when he asked to move the bed, and the hallways were filling up with corpses. The air conditioners had been turned up until there was space in the morgues. She darkened the room to save them the burden of seeing the bodies, and switched on a bedside lamp that threw a weak yellow glow across the bed. The darkness eased the throbbing at Sinan’s temples and for a while he could pretend that the rest of the world did not exist, that there was only his son breathing on this bed.
The boy’s face seemed sunken, diminished of muscle and fat. Sinan heldsmail’s hand and felt the bone of the knuckles, ran his fingers over the soft pads of his son’s palm. An IV punctured a vein insmail’s forearm, and Sinan noticed how tinysmail’s arms really were. Before this he had felt his son was growing too fast, his body too quickly thickening into a young man’s, but now he recognized how truly fragile he was. Life had barely taken root in him and the boy’s body seemed ready to give it up.
Sinan tucked the blanket underneathsmail’s shoulders, back, and legs. He rested his head on his hands and watched the rise and fall ofsmail’s breath, counting the seconds between each one. Sometime in the night the nurse draped a blanket over his shoulders, and, as if being
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