Gardens of Water (53 page)

“Talk to him, Sinan. He’s saying things today that scare me.”

“What things?”

“Asking strange questions he’s too young to ask. Speak to him.”

“Where is he?”

“The soccer field.”

“You left him alone?”

“No, he’s with
rem.”

THE SOCCER FIELD WAS
illuminated with floodlights nailed to wooden poles, and, against the darkness of the camp, it seemed to glow as if it were the center of the world. A few boys played a halfhearted game at the opposite end of the field, their voices echoing in the cooling night air like muffled screams. He found the two of them at the edge of the field,
rem sitting in the grass and
smail juggling a soccer ball. For a moment it seemed they existed wholly separate from him, as though he had nothing to do with their presence in the world. He watched them as though he were dead, a ghost watching his children from the other side, hoping they reflected back some essence that said he had lived in the world.
smail kicked the ball in the air.
rem smiled and clapped as he tried a fancy kick.

“
rem,” he said when he reached them. She stood up immediately, stopped smiling, and brushed off her skirt. “Your mother is expecting you back at the tent.”

“Of course, Baba.” She brushed past him, her skirt rustling together, her feet scuffing up clouds of dirt, and he could feel her anger in all of her movements.

“Watch, Baba,”
smail said. “Watch.” The boy bounced the ball on his left knee three times before kicking it into the air and heading it awkwardly to his left side where it rolled into the darkness beyond the field.
smail ran to get the ball and came back.

“Where’d you learn that?”

“Wait, Baba, wait. I didn’t do it right.” He tried again and this time missed the ball when he kicked. He smacked the ball with his fist and tried again.

“Football’s hard,” Sinan said. “It’s okay.”

“Wait.”

This time he headed the ball and it dropped right in front of him. He stuck his chest out in an attempt to control the fall, but he missed it and the ball hit the hard ground and rolled away.

He let out a little cry of frustration and kicked the ground, sending up a cloud of dust.

“That’s good,
smail. I’m very impressed.”

“I’m not doing it right.” He stared at the ground.

“No, no. It’s good. You’re just like Alpay.” Sinan put his arm around the boy. “I couldn’t do that, and I’m a thousand years older than you.”

“Not a thousand,”
smail said, smiling faintly.

“Okay, okay,” Sinan said. “Only a hundred and one years older.”

smail laughed. “You can’t do it because of your leg, not because you’re old, Baba.”
smail playfully pushed him in the stomach.