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the jinn came from。 “From the other side of the river；” I said。 “Where our
father is？” asked Shevket。 “Yes； from there；” I said。 “The jinn came to take a
look at the pictures in your grandfather’s books。 They say that a sinner who
looks at those pictures immediately dies。”
A silence。
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“Listen； I’m going downstairs to be with Hayriye；” I said。 “I’m going to
carry the brazier in here； as well as the dinner tray。 Don’t even think of leaving
the room or you’ll die。 The jinn is still in the house。”
“Mama； Mama； don’t go；” Orhan said。
I squared myself to Shevket。 “You’re responsible for your brother；” I said。 “If
you leave the room and the jinn doesn’t get you； I’ll be the one who kills you。”
I put on the frightening expression that I made before slapping them。 “Now
pray that your ill grandfather doesn’t die。 If you’re good； God will grant you
your prayers and no one will be able to harm you。” Without giving themselves
over to it too much； they began to pray。 I went downstairs。
“Somebody knocked over the pot of orange jam；” said Hayriye。 “The cat
couldn’t have done it； not strong enough； a dog couldn’t have gotten into the
house…”
She abruptly saw the terror on my face and stopped： “What’s the matter；
then；” she said； “what happened？ Has something happened to your dear
father？”
“He’s dead。”
She shrieked。 The knife and onion she was holding fell from her hands and
hit the cutting board with such force that the fish she was preparing flopped。
She shrieked again。 We both noticed that the blood on her left hand had
e； not from the fish； but from her index finger； which she’d sliced
accidentally。 I ran upstairs； and as I was searching for a piece of muslin in the
room opposite the one the children were in； I heard their noises and shouts。
Holding the piece of cloth I’d torn off； I entered the room to find that Shevket
had climbed onto his younger brother； pinning Orhan’s shoulders down with
his knees。 He was choking him。
“What are you two doing！” I shouted at the top of my lungs。
“Orhan was leaving the room；” Shevket said。
“Liar；” said Orhan。 “Shevket opened the door and I told him not to leave。”
He began to cry。
“If you don’t sit up here quietly； I’ll kill both of you。”
“Mama； don’t go；” Orhan said。
Downstairs； I bound Hayriye’s finger； stopping the bleeding。 When I told
her that my father hadn’t died a natural death； she grew frightened and
recited some prayers asking for Allah’s protection。 She stared at her injured
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finger and began crying。 Was her affection for my father great enough to
unleash such a fit of crying？ She wanted to go upstairs and see him。
“He’s not upstairs；” I said。 “He’s in the back room。”
She gazed at me suspiciously。 But when she realized I couldn’t bear another
look at him； she was overe by curiosity。 She grabbed the lamp and left。 She
took four or five steps beyond the entrance of the kitchen； where I stood； and
with respect and apprehension； she slowly pushed open the door of the room；
and by the light of the lamp she was holding； looked inside。 Unable at first to
see my father； she raised the lamp even higher； trying to illuminate the corners
of the large rectangular room。
“Aaah！” she screamed。 She’d caught sight of my father where I’d left him
just beside the door。 Frozen； she gazed at him。 The shadow she cast along the
floor and stable wall was motionless。 As she looked； I imagined what she was
seeing。 When she returned； she wasn’t crying。 I was relieved to see that she
still had her wits about her； enough to be able to register pletely what I
was prepared to tell her。
“Now listen to me； Hayriye；” I said。 As I spoke； I waved the fish knife； which
my hand had grabbed seemingly on its own。 “The upstairs has been ransacked
too； the same accursed demon has destroyed all； he’s made a shambles of
everything。 That’s where he crushed my father’s face and skull； that’s where he
killed him。 I brought him down here so the children wouldn’t see and so I
might have a chance to caution you。 After you three left； I also went out。
Father was home by himself。”
“I was not aware of that；” she said insolently。 “Where were you？”
I wanted her to take careful note of my silence。 Then I said； “I was with
Black。 I met with Black in the house of the Hanged Jew。 But you won’t breathe
a word of this to anyone。 Nor； for the time being； will you mention that my
father has been killed。”
“Who was it that murdered him？”
Was she truly such an idiot or was she trying to corner me？
“If I knew； I wouldn’t hide the fact that he was dead；” I said。 “I don’t know。
Do you？”
“How should I know anything？” she said。 “What are we going to do now？”
“You’re going to behave as if nothing whatsoever has happened；” I said。 I
felt the urge to wail； to burst out crying； but I restrained myself。 We both were
quiet。
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Much later； I said； “Forget about the fish for now； set out the dishes for the
children。”
She objected and started to cry； and I put my arms around her。 We hugged
each other tightly。 I loved her then； momentarily pitying； not only myself and
the children； but all of us。 But even as we embraced； a worm of doubt was
anxiously gnawing at me。 You know where I was while my father was being
murdered。 To further my own designs； I’d cleared the house of Hayriye and the
children。 You know that leaving my father alone in the house was an
unforeseen coincidence…But did Hayriye know？ Did she prehend what I’d
explained to her； will she understand？ Indeed； yes； she’d quickly understand
and grow suspicious。 I hugged her even tighter； but I knew that with her slave
girl’s mind she’d assume I was doing this to cover up my wiles； and before
long even I felt as if I were deceiving her。 While my father was being murdered
here； I was with Black engaged in an act of lovemaking。 If it were only Hayriye
who knew this； I wouldn’t feel as guilty； but I suspect that you might make
something of it as well。 So； admit it； you believe that I’m hiding something。
Alas； poor woman！ Could my fate be any darker？ I began to cry； then Hayriye
cried； and we embraced again。
I pretended to satisfy my hunger at the table we’d set upstairs。 From time
to time； with the excuse of “checking on Grandfather；” I would step into the
other room and burst into tears。 Later because the children were scared and
agitated； they snuggled up tightly next to me in bed。 For a long while they
were unable to sleep for fear of jinns； and as they tossed and turned they kept
asking； “I heard a noise； did you hear it？” To lull them to sleep； I promised to
tell them a love story。 You know how words take wing in the darkness。
“Mother； you’re not going to get married are you？” said Shevket。
“Listen to me；” I said。 “There was a prince who； from afar； fell in love with a
strikingly beautiful maiden。 How did this happen？ I’ll tell you how。 Before
laying eyes on the pretty maiden； he’d seen her portrait； that’s how。”
As I would often do when I was upset and troubled； I recounted the tale not
from memory； but improvising according to how I felt at that time。 And since I
colored it using a palette of my own memories and worries； what I recounted
became a kind of melancholy illustration to acpany all that had happened
to me。
After both children fell asleep； I left the warm bed and； together with
Hayriye； cleaned up what that vile demon had scattered about。 We picked up
ruined chests； books； cloth； ceramic cups； earthenware pots； plates and inkpots
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that had been thrown about and shattered； we cleared away a demolished
folding worktable； paint boxes and papers that had been torn up with furious
hatred； and while doing so on