Read Nobody's Child for Free Online

it on the carpet beside the tray of tan. There was a stack of Turkish tonir bread cut in wedges,black olives, cheese, and sliced wild cucumbers. Mariam reached forward and took a wedge of the Turkish bread. She ripped off a large chunk and put it in her mouth. It amazed her how good it tasted. Amidst all the terror and sadness of the last twenty-four hours, Mariam hadn’t once considered food, but now she was famished. The bread was aromatic with a hint of yogurt and yeast and salt, and it was quite different from the unleavened Armenian flatbread. She tore off another chunk and gave it to Onnig. He ate it hungrily.
    The husband and wife sat silently at the edge of the carpet, watching their guests eat. Each time someone finished their glass of yogurt, the woman would pour out some more, and she went back into the house when the platter was nearly empty and came back with a bowl of nuts and figs.
    In normal times, Onnig would have eaten quickly and then gotten up to play. These were not normal times, however, so he sat quietly on his sister’s lap long after he had eaten his fill.
    â€œThe killing is finished,” said Abdul Hassan, as his wife gathered up the remnants of the picnic. “The Sultan’s amnesty period is over.”
    Mariam frowned in confusion. “What do you mean, amnesty period?” she asked.
    â€œSultan Abdul Hamid proclaimed a twenty-four-hour grace period for crimes against infidels,” explained the Turk. “The grace period is up. Turks who kill now risk being prosecuted.”
    â€œThat is good to know,” said Mariam, although she didn’t feel good about it at all. Her parents and whoknows how many others had just been killed in a state-sanctioned action.
    â€œThe village has been decimated,” said Abdul Hassan. “And although the immediate risk is over, I don’t know how safe it is for Armenians. You are welcome to stay in the barn. I could probably find some work for you to do.”
    Kevork looked up from his place on the carpet. “My house in the village is still standing,” he said. “We’ll go there.”
    As the Turk regarded the motley assortment of survivors, Mariam could see the sympathy in his eyes. “The little boy,” said Abdul Hassan. “It will be difficult for him in the village. Amina Hanim and I have no children. We could adopt him.”
    Mariam hugged Onnig tightly to her and willed herself not to sob out loud. She knew Abdul Hassan was being kind, but she couldn’t bear the thought of her brother being raised by someone else. “Thank you for your offer,” she said. One hot tear rolled down her cheek. “But we would like to stay together.”
    â€œYou could stay together in the barn,” said the man, not unkindly.
    The offer was all wrong, and Mariam knew it. If they stayed at all, Onnig would grow up thinking he was Turkish. And to stay in the barn and work for this man was not a possibility. The barn just recently housed the migrant workers who had been massacred, and their own parents had been massacred right on this land. Mariam couldn’t imagine the nightmares she would have here.
    â€œOr we could take you and your sister and the little boy into our house,” he offered.
    Even though she would still be with her brother and sister, and even though they would be fed and clothed, and perhaps even loved, she did not want to grow up as a Turk. Onnig was clinging to her and trembling slightly in her arms. He seemed to have an inkling of what the Turk was offering. And she could tell by his reaction that this wasn’t something he wanted, either. She looked at her sister. Marta caught her eye and shook her head slightly. Mariam looked at Anna and Kevork. They remained silent, but their eyes were sorrowful. What would happen to them? wondered Mariam. A deformed woman and a young boy alone had no chance of survival.
    Mariam looked at the Turk and shook her head.