‘Did the money I sent cover all the expenses?’ Ziya asked, as his eyes travelled over the cliffs.
‘It did,’ said Kenan. ‘It was a hundred and fifty lira too much, in fact. More than I knew how to spend.’
Reaching into his pocket, he gave Ziya the money he hadn’t spent.
‘This barn had an earthen roof once,’ he said quietly. ‘It leaked in the summer rains, and in the winter snows. That’s why I had it replaced when we did it up. I hired good men from town to do us a proper tiled roof. The storeroom was a good size, so I divided it into two. One part became the kitchen, and the other the bathroom. . Then we redid the walls, inside and out. We replastered them, and then we covered the bathroom’s earthen floor with pine as fresh and fragrant as the day it was cut. And then — well the doors and the windows had never been painted, and to tell the truth, there wasn’t much left to them. All you had to do was touch them, and they’d crumble. So that was why we pulled them out and put in new ones. And then, as God is my witness, I spent a bit of the money you sent on furnishings. Two sofas, one table, a refrigerator, an electric stove, an oven, a gas cylinder, a bed, a few pots and pans, blankets, a quilt, and a few other odds and ends. . You must have seen all this when you woke up.’
‘I did,’ said Ziya. ‘And I saw all the food and drink you brought, too. Thank you. For going to all this effort for me, for taking so much time off work. Honestly. No matter how much I thanked you, it would never be enough.’
‘Nonsense. I just wish I could have done more,’ said Kenan, with shame in his voice. ‘Of course, as time goes on, if you decide there are things you don’t like, we can change them at once. Certainly there will be some things missing. So, for example, I bought an electric stove, because you said you could handle it, but if it rains more than two drops, or there’s a flash of lightning in the far distance, or even if the smallest cloud decides to hang a little bit lower, the electricity begins to fizzle and pop and you can never know how long it will be before it fizzles out altogether, that’s something only God knows, and that’s why I need to get you a wood stove, too. And before winter sets in, we need to stack up your woodpile. Right now there’s electricity, we asked the people in the nearest house and they let us run it from there, but I’m sorry to say that so far we haven’t been able to sort out the water. It was never going to happen, anyway. As you know, none of these houses out here have water. And that is why you’ll have to get it from the village fountain, like everyone else. My nephew Besim can help you with this, so please don’t worry. Don’t worry at all.’
‘I won’t,’ said Ziya.
As he said these words, he looked out over the grapevine in the direction of the village, as if he was searching for the fountain.
‘Let me clear these things away,’ said Kenan, springing to his feet, and before Ziya could say, ‘Stop, what’s the rush?’ he had filled up a tray and was rushing towards the kitchen. Ziya jumped up, too, but all that was left for him was a glass salt cellar in the corner and a few slices of bread.
‘I have to go now,’ said Kenan. ‘I hope you don’t mind me already leaving you alone for a few hours on your first day. I have to run some errands.’
‘That’s fine,’ said Ziya.
Kenan left, rushing through the vineyard and down the dirt road that led across the plain, his dark, slight form growing thinner and thinner until it melted into the sunlight like a cloud.
After he had lost sight of Kenan, there was a moment when Ziya had no idea what to do. In spite of himself, he turned back to look at the hills and their lower reaches and the green and waving forest, and the cliffs rising above them. The silence just then was deafening; now and then the sound of a sheep bell wafted in from the plain, but even this seemed no more than a gorgeous ornament hanging from the collar of this great silence. Just then a donkey brayed in the village, and as that sound shimmered through the air, it lit up — lit up only to vanish just as suddenly. And when it vanished, Ziya went inside, opened up his cases, and took out his wrinkled clothes, which he put on to hangers and hung up in the blue fabric wardrobe in the corner.
Kenan had reached the other edge of the village by then, still in a great hurry. At last he came to a stop outside the house at the end of the street. Opening the door, he quickly slipped inside. At the sound of the door, a white sheepdog dozing by the wall on the other side of the street lifted its head to fix its glowing glassy eyes on Kenan’s back, but did not bark. All it did was to open its mouth as wide as it could, to lick its chops with an enormous tongue. Then it gently lowered its head to rest on its forelegs again, and narrowed its gaze, as if preparing an ambush. For the next hour, its eyes never left the door. Even when flies landed on the sides of its mouth, it did not move. Now and again a silent torpor would contrive to close its eyes, but this never lasted long: soon enough, the dog’s eyes would jerk open again and it would reassume its old pose. It did not seem to be waiting for the door so much as the sound of Kenan’s feet. Though it could have been looking far, far away, towards some other point in time.
Just then a group of children aged between twelve and thirteen appeared at the top of the street. Boys and girls together, laughing and joking as they approached the dog. Some of these children were holding marbles. Others were holding bunches of grapes, and yet others were carrying sticks of various lengths, sticks that could be used to play skittles. When they saw the dog by the wall, the girls slowed right down; they retreated into a huddle still eyeing the dog, leaving the boys out in front. One of them was a dark-skinned boy who frowned and waved his stick as if to throw it. The dog made no sound. Without so much as moving its head, it fixed its blank gaze on the boy. In the face of this indifference, the boy picked up a rock the size of a pear and went one step closer. Shouting Shoo! Shoo! he threw the rock with all his strength. This made the dog angry. The first barks were halting but then it got up and began to chase after the children. Faced with its bared teeth and ferocious barking, the children turned on their heels and ran screaming in the direction from which they’d come. Reaching the top of the road, they vanished.
Once they were gone, the dog ambled slowly back to its station and took up its old position as calmly as if nothing had happened. Resting its head on its forelegs, it narrowed its gaze, fixing its eyes on the door. Revived by all that running, its eyes now shone more brightly than before. So brightly, in fact, that they were as good as mirrors, reflecting back the door’s every detaiclass="underline" the whorls in the wood, the mildew on the clay, the holes in the moulding. When Kenan came outside again, he raced down the street without even noticing the dog was there.
Passing through the village meydan, he was noticed by one of the men sitting outside the Coffeehouse of Mirrors.
This man, whose name was Kâzım the Bellows Man, jumped to his feet. Stepping out from the shade of the trees, he cupped his hands around his mouth and with great excitement cried, ‘What’s the news? Has your friend arrived?’
‘He’s arrived,’ Kenan replied.
‘That’s good, then. All the best!’
Sliding back into his chair, and lowering his cap, bringing its visor right over his eyebrows, he watched Kenan walk on. In a voice only he could hear, he mumbled, ‘I hope my business goes just as fast.’