“Yes, it turns out that my father and Mr. Hakan taught at the same university,” he explained.
“Indeed, but Kamal’s father is much younger than me. He was new—a very bright professor. The students loved him then and now. Although I’m sure his son misses having his father around during the semester.”
Saleem’s surprise must have been obvious in his face. He had a lot to learn about Kamal. Hakan stood up and took his teacup to the sink. He tousled Kamal’s hair on the way. Saleem could understand most of their conversation but had to focus. Kamal’s Turkish was a cleaned-up version of what Saleem usually heard him speaking.
“Well, you boys enjoy yourselves. Kamal, give your father my regards when you speak to him. Tell him I’ll be waiting for a visit when he returns. It would be nice to catch up with him at the end of the semester.”
“Of course, Mr. Hakan. I’ll tell him. I’m sure he’ll be most pleased to hear from you. Just a few more weeks and he’ll be home.”
Hakan walked out of the kitchen, and Kamal punched Saleem in the shoulder playfully.
“Hey, come on, man. Get that look off your face! And some of that sweat, too, while you’re at it.”
Saleem smiled sheepishly and went to wash the hard day’s work from his face, neck, and arms. Madar-jan, Samira, and Aziz were in the back bedroom. Aziz was already asleep and Madar-jan was braiding Samira’s hair. Saleem greeted them and leaned over to kiss his mother’s cheek. She had met Kamal, she told him, and was happy that Hakan seemed to know his family. He seemed like a nice young man.
“He is,” Saleem said. “We’re going to go for a little walk, all right? I’ll be back soon.”
“Okay, bachem. Be careful and don’t stay too late. A mother should see her son’s face too, you know.” Saleem promised to return soon and walked back out to find Kamal waiting impatiently behind the house, a cigarette dangling from his bottom lip.
“Ah, much better! Now maybe you won’t scare the girls away,” he said, laughing.
Saleem and the professor’s son went out into the market in search of some mischief that would entertain them for about an hour. It was a taste of a life so deliciously normal that Saleem wanted to fall to his knees and pray for it to last.
CHAPTER 23
Saleem
KAMAL, HAKAN, AND HAYAL MADE SALEEM FEEL SETTLED IN INTIKAL, thousands of miles from “home.” It was harder to think of Intikal as just a temporary stop on their way to England.
Aziz’s condition had improved slightly. His weight and appetite still lagged, but he didn’t look as uncomfortable. Madar-jan gave his doses religiously and was grateful for his improvement. In her second visit with the good Doctor Ozdemir, Madar-jan had prepared a special dish of mantu dumplings. She had felt compelled to show her gratitude somehow, but he again declined any fee for the visit.
But even as things seemed to be turning around, Saleem knew they would eventually have to plan their next move if they were to make it to England. Madar-jan had called their family in England several times but was unable to get through.
She seemed reluctant to call again even though Saleem knew they were the Waziri family’s only hope. Aziz’s medications were an additional draw on the family’s meager monies. There was nothing to save him from the brutally long days at the Polat farm. If it weren’t for the generosity of Hakan and Hayal, they would have been on the street for sure.