They were standing in front of the fountain.
Ziya looked in silence at the water rushing from the groove, and the mossy concrete trough, and the willows bordering the fountain.
‘You can drink this water, can’t you?’ he asked.
‘Of course you can,’ said Kenan. ‘And it doesn’t taste at all bad, by the way. Look, do you see those crumbling walls back there? Those are the remains of the bath house I was telling you about.’
‘But listen,’ said Ziya. ‘I’ve been wanting to ask you what that good thing was your mother mentioned just a while ago, but you haven’t given me a chance to ask.’
‘I know,’ Kenan replied as they walked towards the shade beneath the willows. ‘I could tell.’
‘What could you tell?’
‘That you were going to ask that question.’
They stood on the grass in the shade of the willows, face to face.
‘So that explains it,’ said Ziya. ‘That’s why you used those plastic vats as an excuse to go back to the past, to talk about whatever came into your head.’
Kenan said nothing.
‘All right, then,’ said Ziya. ‘So tell me. What was this good deed I did for you in the army?’
‘You must remember,’ said Kenan, looking down in shame. ‘Please don’t make me tell you, please. I saw the shame in your face, when my mother brought it up; it didn’t pass me by. If you ask me, it’s a good time for me to introduce you to the village. Let’s go to the coffeehouse and drink some tea, say hello to a few people, give them a chance to welcome you. It would look a bit strange, wouldn’t it, to avoid them for too long, to stay so long out of sight.’
‘You’re right,’ said Ziya. ‘It wouldn’t be right, to stay out of sight.’
Leaving the fountain and the cool shade of the willows, they walked together to the village meydan.
‘Let’s go to the Coffeehouse of Mirrors,’ said Kenan. ‘That’s the first one we’ll pass, that’s why. Another time we can go to the Plane Tree Coffeehouse. They function like scales, almost. Sit down in one, and the other rises. Go to the other place, and the first one rises. That’s why we all try to keep things balanced, with some of us in one, and some in the other.’
‘All right, then. Let’s do that,’ said Ziya.
After they had walked a little further, and rounded a large turpentine tree to enter the village meydan, Kenan pointed out the grocery store on their left. It was a brick structure attached to a two-storey house. Its windows were painted blue, as was its door, and nailed to either side of the entrance were nets filled with brightly coloured plastic balls. Standing across the street was a group of boys exchanging sly glances.