Gardens of Water Read Online Free PDF

pastry from the globs of honey and thought about taking each and every one of the tea saucers and smashing them to the floor.
    But then Dylan arrived, carrying an armful of plates.
    “Circumcision and food,” he said, setting the plates on the counter. “You Turks have got interesting ways of having fun.”
    “It’s not supposed to be fun,” she said, scraping harder at the plates.
    “Joke,” he said. “A joke?”
    She stopped, blew air through her teeth, and leaned a fist on her hip.
    “They really make you work, huh?” he said. “I’ll help.”
    “No. You don’t have to.”
    “It’s too much for one person.”
    He took the first plate off the top of the stack, scooted closer to her, and ran it under the hot water. She could smell his cologne—not cologne exactly, not like the sharp scents the Turkish boys wore, but something that smelled like sweet burning, an oil maybe. She watched his hands circle the rim of the plate, looked at the back of his neck, admired the place where his earlobe met the curve of his jaw. Something about his posture, the way he concentrated on the washing, perhaps, made him seem so much older than she, though they were only two years apart. There was nothing separating them now, no glass, no metal, no cement, yet now she almost wished there were.
    She left him there and returned to the living room. She wanted to get some air. Her mother and father were still sitting besidesmail, and she thought her brother looked very tired, as though all he wanted was for them all to go away and let him sleep. She stacked as many plates in her arms as possible, all the way up to her chin, and returned to the kitchen.
    Dylan was still there, working now on a stack of utensils. She wanted him to stay and she wanted him to leave. She wanted him to be a man and stop washing the dishes, but she loved him for the help.
    She placed the new stack of plates beside him.
    “Slave driver,” he said.
    She didn’t get the joke, but she smiled and laughed timidly just to make him happy.
    He washed and she dried and she wondered if this was what it was like to be married to an American man. She wasn’t sure she liked it. What did a woman get in this world if she didn’t get the kitchen? But his company electrified her and she leaned in a little more and felt the steam from the sink touching her face and her heart started jumping all around and she had a difficult time getting her breath and suddenly his hand was on hers and she dropped the plate in the water.
    “No,” she said, pulling away.
    They both looked toward the doorway to see if anyone was coming.
    He smiled and moved closer again, pressing her against the wall of the kitchen, taking both of her wet hands in his.
    “No,” she said again, throwing away his hands and squirming free. She leaned against the doorway and adjusted her blouse and straightened her skirt. “Not in this house.”

Chapter 7
    S INAN STARTLED AWAKE FROM A DREAM IN WHICH HIS FATHER scolded him for abandoning their village. “My grandson will never know Yeilli, his home,” his father had said in the dream, his black eyes staring holes into Sinan. The house behind his father was on fire and it was very hot and Sinan wanted to tell him this but he couldn’t make his mouth work.
    The clock next to the bed said 2:45. He kissed Nilüfer on the cheek before getting up in the dark and walking into the front room.
    In the glow from the streetlights, he sawsmail there sleeping. A slight breeze blew through the open window, and the few strands of tinsel still stuck in his son’s hair sparkled in the wind. He stood next to the bed and listened to the steady rise and fall of the boy’s breath. He thought about closing the window—something about the wind touching his son’s sleeping face disturbed him—but it was too hot and he decided to leave it open. As he pulled the remaining strands of tinsel from his son’s hair,smail stirred and swatted at the annoyance. His hand stuck