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the best, and that he would be relieved of these unpleasant duties. In fact, the forces of destiny were simply preparing fresh surprises.

– 3 –

Sabotage
    Doctor Mahir placed his palm on the patient’s bare back and began tapping the surrounding area with the other hand. Kemal struggled to remain upright in bed and flinched at the touch of the doctor’s cool, freshly-scrubbed hands. Not yet content with his diagnosis, Doctor Mahir placed his ear where his hand had been, and listened for a long while as his patient drew in and expelled the air. “Put something on immediately, don’t catch a chill,” he said, straightening.
    Mehpare scurried into the room with the underclothes she’d just warmed by the stove in the hallway. Kemal slipped into his undershirt and allowed her to help him into his pajama top, but when she began doing up its buttons he gently pushed her away with, “I’ll do it myself.” Shifting his gaze, he looked directly into the doctor’s eyes and asked, in an exaggeratedly mournful tone, “So doctor, are my lungs singing the song of consumption?”
    “Consumption’s no laughing matter. And it doesn’t sing.”
    “It kills.”
    “That’s right. But it isn’t the white plague that will kill you, Kemal—it’s your hot blood.”
    “So I don’t have consumption?”
    “When I come by tomorrow I’ll bring my stethoscope. I don’t think it’s consumption. You’ve caught a bad chill. Not that it’s possible to know for certain, without conducting x-rays.
    “I could come to the hospital myself in secret . . . Maybe at night.”
    “You’d only attract more attention. The hospitals are never empty! There’s always a doctor on duty, orderlies, nurses. It’s best you remain indoors for a few more weeks. It’s still bitterly cold outside.”
    “I’m fed up, Mahir.”
    “Of course you are. But if your lungs catch a chill again you’re certain to get consumption, no question of that!”
    “Am I going to have to live with that fear for the rest of my life?”
    “Exactly. You’ve so abused your body that you’ve lost all immunity. Your lungs and liver are seeking any pretext for disease. Don’t give it to them.”
    “Am I going to be confined my bed forever?”
    “Of course not. And you can use your brain without fear of affecting your other organs. But you’ve got to keep warm, stay calm, avoid too much rakı and abstain completely from tobacco. Marry a good woman, one who’ll take care of you, and you’ll live a long, happy, uneventful life.”
    “And where’s the woman who’ll accept this wreck of a man?”
    “I know of any number of nubile girls eager to give their hands to a handsome veteran, disabled or not.”
    “Let’s say we’ve given consumption the slip . . .”
    “We’re not assuming anything until you’ve had a chest radiograph.”
    “Well let’s imagine for a moment that I’m in sound health. What woman would willingly sleep beside a man who can’t sleep himself, who has nightmares whenever he does?”
    “The nightmares will pass. Haven’t they become less frequent?”
    “Not at all.”
    “Are you taking the syrups I prescribed?”
    Kemal nodded in Mehpare’s direction. “She’s constantly forcing various concoctions down my throat. But I haven’t asked her what they are.”
    Mehpare leapt at the opportunity to speak. “We’ve ordered everything you prescribed. And the Master always manages to get them refilled within a day or two. As for me, I administer them with my own two hands, I swear it. Punctually and without fail.”
    “Good, my girl. Is he sleeping better?”
    “Yes, praise God. He still has nightmares, but not as often. Oh, and he no longer insists I set up a brazier right next to his bed. See, we’ve even been able to move it to the hallway. This tiny room used to be like an oven.”
    “It’ll pass, all of it. Now that the fever’s broken the most important thing is that he eats well, gets plenty of rest and stays