When the Moon Is Low(75)

Why is she doing this?

“I only wanted to talk to you,” she whispered to Saleem so quietly that he was not sure if he had heard her or imagined it.

He turned slowly, his curious body acting without thinking. They were face-to-face, but the darkness was forgiving. She touched his cheek. Saleem found it easy to disregard every terrible conversation they’d had. There was something tender and exciting and irresistible about the moment. His hands moved on their own accord, traveling to her narrow waist, tracing the outline of her hips and sliding upward. She brushed her lips against his cheek. He turned his face, and their mouths connected. Clumsy and wet. Saleem felt another part of him grow anxious. As long as his eyes stayed closed, he could ignore the world.

Their feet shuffled in the straw.

“Saleem . . .” she whispered. His eyes opened and he pulled back abruptly as if he’d touched a hot stove.

A thousand thoughts rushed into his mind. What if Mr. Polat were to walk in? Why was he even touching her? He took a step back and hit a wall. Ekin recoiled, surprised by his sudden shift.

“I should . . . you should go,” he said simply. She paused, and then she spun around and raced out of the barn. Saleem was left to wonder what aftermath to expect. If her father or mother found out . . . his heart pounded to even think of it.

Saleem paced the barn and wondered if he should leave before Polat came chasing after him. He waited and strained his ears for the sound of Mr. Polat raging toward the barn. Nothing. Saleem inched toward the barn door and peered out apprehensively. Off in the distance, he could see Mr. Polat still riding his plow. Mrs. Polat was at the back of the house, hanging sheets on a clothesline. There was no sign of Ekin.

He cautiously resumed his work, but it was hours before his pulse slowed to normal. His eyes darted back and forth as he worked, careful not to be caught off guard. Sunset came and Saleem left, tired and sweaty from an extraordinarily exhausting day.

SALEEM FOUND HIMSELF BACK ON THE TRUCK THE NEXT MORNING, wondering if he was walking into a trap. He approached the farm tensely and on guard but, just as the day before, Polat barely acknowledged his appearance. Saleem stayed on alert all day and was thankful Ekin stayed out of sight. He’d thought about those moments in the barn, puzzled by her actions and unable to decipher her motives.

What girl touches a boy? How shameless.

But he also wondered why she’d approached him. Her condescending tone and spiteful comments . . . had that all been a front?

Saleem was even more puzzled by his reaction. He hadn’t pulled away.

His body had responded to her with its own urges. He could still feel her skin under his fingertips, her half-ripe curves beneath his palms. Last night, he lay awake on the mattress and let his fingers move along the nape of his neck, the way Ekin’s had. The feeling gave him a thrill.

He wondered if she kept away because she was angry or if it was because she was ashamed.

From time to time, Saleem thought he caught glimpses of Ekin watching from the back window or slipping through the side door. She remained elusive. Saleem was grateful. He had no words for her.

AS THE DAYS SLIPPED BY, SALEEM BECAME EVEN MORE RESTLESS AS he waited for the envelope his mother promised him. He had even checked in with the neighbors to see if the passport had been delivered to the wrong address. A month passed and there was still no sign. As optimistic as Hakan and Hayal tried to appear, Saleem could tell they too were beginning to think the envelope would never arrive.

Ekin finally broke her silence. The sun was setting and Saleem had just finished planting a bag of seeds that Polat had given him. It was time for winter crops and Polat wanted to grow sugar beets. Saleem had put the tools back into the barn, piled them into a corner, and stretched his back. He heard hay crackle and turned around to see Ekin’s thin frame by the barn door. She did not approach him.

“You are finished?” she said softly. She looked away, one foot tucked behind the other in a bashful pose. Saleem could sense her discomfort and felt a wave of pity.

“Yes,” he replied. He stayed where he was. The distance between them was protective.

“You don’t like working here.” It was a statement, not a question. Whatever she was about to say, Ekin had rehearsed. He could almost imagine her, watching from a distance and thinking of what she would say to him.

“I thought maybe you would . . . I did not mean to make you angry or sad. I did not know. I want you to take this and do not come back here. It is better if you do not come back here.” She held in her outstretched hand something folded up in a piece of notebook paper.

“What is it?”

“Just take this. And go. Please . . . please just go.” Her voice sounded strained, like a child on the verge of a tantrum. She took a few steps toward him but kept a distance. Saleem was a fire that would burn her if she got too close.

The packet was within reach. Saleem took it. Ekin was unpredictable, but her demeanor was changed. Saleem could sense she was not toying with him and that whatever she was offering had not been an easy decision for her to make.

His fingers closed in on the paper. Ekin whipped around and ran out of the barn. Saleem watched her go before undoing the folded paper carefully. Packed within, he found a thick wad of bills. His eyes widened. There was more money than he could estimate, bills of all different denominations.

Saleem panicked, folded up the bills, and stuffed them into his pocket. He listened for the sound of approaching footsteps and heard nothing. Where could Ekin have gotten this from? When he saw no one nearing the barn, he slipped out of view again and took the money out of his pocket. As he fingered through the bills, his heart quickened and he broke out in a sweat. He was left with one question.