Nobody's Child by Marsha Forchuk Skrypuch Read Free Book Online

timidly, “would you sell to us?”
    At the sight of the coins, the man smiled. “What would you like?” he asked.
    While Mariam bargained with the vendor, Kevork stood back and sized up the rest of the stalls. His eyes were drawn immediately to a familiar sight. At one of the stalls was tied his own goat, Sevo. Could it possibly be? He walked over to get a better look, and sure enough, this goat was solid black, except for a small brown splotch on her left side.
    â€œSevo!” he said with delight. He got down onto his knees and wrapped his arms around her. As he breathed in her familiar musky scent, tears sprung to his eyes. Infinding Sevo he had salvaged a tiny bit of his beloved past. Sevo bleated in recognition and nuzzled her nose to Kevork’s cheek.
    The vendor stepped proprietarily beside the goat. “This is Ghara,” he said. “I’ve had her for two years. Birthed her myself.”
    Kevork looked at the man skeptically. He knew the man was lying, but what did it matter? What police officer would believe an Armenian boy over a Turkish man?
    Kevork waited for Mariam to finish her purchases, then motioned her and Anna over.
    â€œHow much is she?” asked Mariam. She recognized Sevo immediately. Anna stood a few steps back, her hair still covered and her eyes averted.
    The man smiled. “Six lira.” “That is too much,” said Kevork, with an angry flash in his eyes. “You stole this goat from my family, and now you are trying to steal her again.”
    â€œThen don’t buy Ghara,” the man said.
    Anna stepped beside Mariam and Kevork, then raised her eyes. There was a sharp intake of breath from the vendor. He clutched the blue stone suspended on a strap around his neck and held up one hand, palm out. “It’s the Evil Eye,” he said. “Stay away.”
    â€œWe want that goat,” said Anna, gazing at him intently.
    â€œTake it.”
    â€œWe would also like two chickens,” said Anna, relishing in the man’s discomfiture.
    â€œFour lira,” the man said hastily. “My best two chickens and my beloved goat.”
    Mariam counted out the money and handed it to the vendor.
    The man grabbed the coins, then shut up his booth.
    Kevork grinned broadly as he led Sevo down the street by her rope. Over one shoulder was a sack of rice. Onnig carried one of the chickens, while Marta carried the other. When they were out of earshot, Kevork looked at his aunt. “Thanks,” he said.
    Anna smiled.

C HAPTER F OUR
    A s they stepped inside the steamy stone entranceway of the bathhouse and waited for the attendant to appear, Mariam looked around her nervously. “Are you sure we will be accepted?” she asked Kevork.
    This was the first time they had attempted to go to the public bath since the massacre. It was located just outside the Turkish part of the village, in a neutral area, and was the one place where Armenians and Turks would mingle freely on a regular basis.
    â€œThis is the only public bath,” replied Kevork. “Where else could we go?”
    Mariam was dressed in a loose tunic and trousers, and she held Anoush’s towel tightly to her chest, as if for protection. Marta was dressed similarly, and she also had an Adomian towel, as did Kevork, but they would have to rent ones for Onnig and Anna. She didn’t need a full lira for the baths and towel rentals, so she had brought a handful of
piasters
— penny coins.
    Just then, the bath attendant stepped through the entranceway. She was a hugely obese woman with a bun of greying hair hennaed red. The two large towels she was wrapped in gave her a semblance of modesty, but her massive arms were bare, and so were her calves. On her feet were
pattens
— a type of sandal on platforms used in bathhouses to keep the feet away from dirty, sudsy water. Her pudgy fingertips were pink and wrinkled from the vigorous scrubbings she’d been giving