As Long as the Lemon Trees Grow (17)

She nods. Kenan watches my every movement with tear-filled eyes. I’m astonished at my own composure. The moment I touch her abdomen, she screams.

Shit.

I apply pressure, and she screams even louder.

Daisies. Daisies. Daisies, I recite to myself, steadying my hand.

“What are you doing?” Kenan says hoarsely.

“I need to find out where the shrapnel is.”

Lama continues to scream, but I can’t stop. I must feel the edge of a metallic object pushing against my hand.

“You’re hurting her!” he yells.

I silence him with a look I learned from Mama. “You think I want to do this? I need to find out where it is!”

He goes quiet, but I can see the fire raging in his eyes.

“She has bruising and stitches everywhere. I can’t make out which the shrapnel is responsible for. That is why I’m doing this.”

He nods, his face white as a sheet.

“Lama, you need to tell me when the pain is worse, okay? You’re so brave, and I know you’re going to be strong now too. All right?”

She squeezes out a few more tears before nodding again.

“Good girl.”

I press gently, making a line down her stomach. She grits her teeth and doesn’t scream anymore, but her breaths come out in short bursts until I reach just below her belly button.

“Here!” she shrieks.

I immediately stop. I felt its edge before she told me.

“Good job, Lama.” I breathe in, trying to make my tone lighter. “You’re amazing. Now all that’s left is to get the shrapnel out.”

“Do it,” Kenan says.

“I just—” I swallow the acid in my mouth and look at him. “It’s going to be a bit difficult.”

“Why?”

I shake my head. How do I say this?

“I need—”

“You need to cut into her stomach, and there’s no anesthesia.”

“Yes,” I whisper.

Kenan runs his hand through his hair and over his face, torn.

“I need to do this right now. Before the shrapnel moves and ends up God knows where.”

His breathing shatters.

“Do it. We have no choice. Just do it.” His tone is as pained as his sister’s.

“Get her something to bite on.”

He takes off his belt.

“Lama, I’m so sorry. I know you’re in pain, but you can do this. I’m here. Your brothers are here.”

She starts crying.

“Bite on the belt,” I tell her.

This isn’t what I ever envisioned myself doing. I was supposed to be a pharmacist. I wasn’t supposed to cut into children’s stomachs in their homes.

My hands shake as I take out the disinfectant and a scalpel. Until now, every time I’ve operated alone has been at the hospital, with Dr. Ziad always somewhere nearby in case I messed up. It’s reassuring to know he’s there.

But here, if I slip, if I cut a vein or cause even more internal bleeding, she will die. And I’ll have murdered her.

I shut my eyes tightly, try to regulate my breathing and think of the daisies.

“Hey,” I hear Kenan saying. “Are you okay?”

I immediately open my eyes.

“Yes,” I say, and I’m proud that my voice doesn’t break. All the times I’ve needed to keep a cool head at the hospital are paying off. His eyes go soft, and I think he can read the fear I’m frantically trying to hide. I ignore the quick flash of hesitance darting across his expression.

I look at Lama, who’s staring up at the ceiling with tears glistening in her eyes. Her lips quiver where she bites on the belt. She’s too young for this.

God, please guide my hand, and let me save this poor girl.

I disinfect her stomach and the scalpel and look at Kenan. This is going to hurt him far more than it’ll hurt her.

“Hold her hand,” I instruct him.

He nods, white-faced. I press the cool metal against her stomach, and she winces.

“Lama, look only at me,” her brother says.

I take a deep breath and move the scalpel down in a small cut. It doesn’t stop Lama from howling. She tries to push me away, kicking her legs all the while, but Kenan holds her down.

“Lama, please, I need you to stay still!” I say, working as fast as I can.

Blood spurts out of the wound I made, and I dig in two fingers to feel for the shrapnel. She sobs, begging me to stop. I feel like a monster. But there’s no time for me to be delicate. The tip of my finger brushes against a pointy edge.

“Found it!” I yell and clamp on it. It’s lodged in a shallow area, away from her large intestine, and I nearly keel over with relief. Despite that, I pray hard it isn’t causing any internal bleeding. I pull out slowly. This was a close one. Carefully, I make sure there is no more debris sticking around before stitching her wound up. Every puncture through her skin sends a fresh wave of pain for her, Kenan, and me. The suture is ugly and will definitely leave a scar, but she’s alive and that’s all that matters. I press around her stomach, making sure there’s nothing else.

“I’m done.” Panting hard, as if I’d run a marathon, I start gently wrapping her with a set of fresh bandages.

Kenan’s face sags with relief. He kisses her forehead, smoothing away her sweat-soaked hair.