Anastasia Milko
A little Turkish boy with a wooden stick
Yussuf paused for an instance and went on, asking God to give him right words to touch his son’s heart.
“Can is extremely lonely, you know, no one is willing to play with him. Neither have they accepted his serine invitations to come for halva and tea last week. He has crossed the line of being an outsider for what he has no responsibility. Is it fair, son? Think of him please!”
Normally Kerem never hesitated to speak his mind, however it seemed extremely difficult to blame not the neighbors or even his parents but little brother Can, who was a real angel, especially comparing to him. Still, it took him just a few seconds to jump from love to hate.
“You want me to feel sorry, don’t you father?”
“Well, well, well, I do feel sorry for being your son, for living in a shabby and stinky house you funnily call home. I will also tell you something for just your ears” he stood up staring death his father, “I don’t care what’s going on in your or your little bastard’s life”
Silence dropped.
Two men standing face to face, feeling outraged.
Mr. Youssuf never heard someone cursing in his house before, not had he ever imagined being a witness to his own precious son swearing his family. It was more than he could bear, but it was still not enough to lay a hand on his son.
Unfortunately, this exact time not only father’s ears heard the hurtful sentence of a beloved son, little Can was wide awake, listening carefully on his bed upstairs. He was extremely worried about Kerem, telling himself he would not fall asleep until his brother would return in the bedroom. He didn’t, but it might have been better for him to break his word and to be asleep now than feel that the whole world was falling to the ground.
“How dare you speak this word, have you no fear of Allah?”
“Go to Jahannam with your God” blurted Kerem, narrowing his foxy blurred eyes
With tears in eyes Mr. Yussuf bowed down his head, it was too much now.
“Go away. I will not tolerate a man like you in my family. You are a real disappointment to me, and I will probably take my responsibility for raising a devil like you, but till that time you will not be named my son. Go now”.
It was for the first time that Kerem had heard anything sharp from his kind father, still this exactly was not a mere plea, it was an imperious command given with deep sorrow yet with high determination. Kerem was feeling a bit tipsy, though he felt he was not ready to give in without a battle. It was time to go. He left grinning evilly. At the doorway he paused, waved his hand and nodded as if he was talking to someone visible only to him. He chuckled darkly, and then spitted at the doormat.
The door slammed.
Mr. Yussuf sobbed the whole night, next door Can couldn’t sleep a wink either but his eyes were dry. The moon’s silver beams and innumerable stars sparkling high in the dark blue expanse were the only hope for Can that his elder brother would be guided and protected in that dark and disturbed night. He had no grunge for the word Kerem had called him, he was not even sure about the meaning, yet it must have been something beyond what father could have tolerated, and there was little he couldn’t when it came to his precious son. Believe it or not but this seven year old boy didn’t lose neither love nor peace in his little brave heart this night. Realization that it was not his brother talking but a dangerous spirit of alcohol came immediately to Can, and he felt sorry for his brother who must have been captured in its hands.