If he gains his courage and comes looking for me, I will kill him.
Once downstairs, Seda throws the contents of the bedpan out of the window and sticks her head into the cold morning air of the courtyard. There are different forms of death. Not everyone dies of disease or hunger. Perhaps the fates have reserved something different for her. A kind of madness designed to blur her reality. Dreams and nightmares blending into one long sorrowful path. Was the bearded soldier really there? Had he spoken in Kemal’s voice or was she finally going mad? Either way, he must be forgotten or destroyed.
Ahmet approaches the window. He avoids her eyes, as he’s done every day since the incident in the stables.
“Need an extra pail,” he says to her.
Seda waits for more.
“Guests,” the boy offers. “Two of them. Soldiers.”
So she is sane after all. The soldier was real, the familiarity of his voice an aberration. Not the first time the real and unreal danced in her head. Seda ducks back indoors to give Ahmet what he wants. She wants to ask who they are, where they are from, and how long they will be staying, but this would require speaking. She unlocks the door to the courtyard, the pail too big to fit through the window.
“Leave it unlocked, will you?” Ahmet asks, grabbing the pail. “I’ll be right back.”
Seda says nothing. She turns to the dough resting beneath a square of muslin, intended for ekmek bread. Like her visions and ghosts, it has risen up and grown in the night. She is pounding at air bubbles trapped in dough when the door swings open.
There, with the sunlight at his back, is the bearded soldier from the morning. Seda moves quickly. She picks up a cast-iron pot and swings it at his head. The soldier ducks, barely avoiding the pot. He takes two large steps toward her. Seda backs up into the table, knocking over a sack of flour. Puffs of flour rise up at the man’s feet, making him look like a demon rising from a cloud. He clamps his hands around her wrists and pins her to the wall. The soldier’s face is only inches from Seda’s, but she keeps her head turned to the left and her eyes squeezed shut. Her panting is the only thing between them. She opens her mouth to scream, but the voice she has neglected for so long has now turned its back on her. She twists her wrists, but his grip only grows stronger.
“Stop,” he whispers. “Stop. Please.”
She keeps her face turned, her eyes glued shut.
“It’s me.” He is whispering again, his breath warming her right ear.
“Lucine.” He whispers her name like a desperate prayer. It is an incantation that pulls her all the way back to that other life.
CHAPTER 29
Resurrection
KEMAL’S HEART FINALLY begins beating again. He lets the air into his lungs in one loud gulp and holds it there, afraid to let it go. He had thought nothing of walking into the room, and even less of interrupting the girl. Until she turned her head. Beneath the head scarf were the gray eyes and proud chin. There was surprise and terror in her face but no recognition. He knew her immediately. And in that moment, he forgot to breathe. His mind and body disconnected, pulling apart like threads of yarn. Now his hands are wrapped around her wrists and his body is pressing her against the wall.
She stops struggling, but the fear is like a third body wedged between them. She keeps her head turned away from him, pressing her right cheek into the wall. Her head scarf has come undone, and he can see that her dark hair is much shorter than before. She is gaunt, like so many these days. Her eye sockets recede into the cave of her face.
“Am I hurting you?” he asks.
She shuts her eyes tighter and thrashes her head back and forth, right to left. Again and again.
“Stop. Please. It’s me. It’s Kemal.”
But the thrashing does not stop.
“Lucine,” he repeats again. This time she stops, but still will not look at him.
“I’m going to let you go now. Please don’t hit me or run away.”
She makes no reply to this.
“Will you promise?” he asks.
Her eyes remain shut, but there is a faint nod. He loosens his hold on her wrists. He lets them slide down from the wall until they hang at her sides. He pulls away from her slowly, in small increments. It is like pulling away from the sun.
“Have I hurt you?” he asks.
She shakes her head no.
“Will you open your eyes now? Please.”
She does this. Her eyelashes part and her eyes settle on a spot to the right of his feet. Then, bit by bit, they come closer to the middle where he stands. They settle on his boots, then climb their way slowly up to his calves, knees, and waist. Kemal blushes, feeling exposed. She looks higher up, at his chest, then at the hollow where his chest meets his neck, where she stops.