Dark at the Crossing by Elliot Ackerman

Author:Elliot Ackerman
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group
Published: 2017-01-23T16:00:00+00:00

IV

The rain passed through in the night, and the bedroom was warm with late morning sun. An argument in the living room woke Haris. Bare-chested, he sprung up. His mind raced around itself. His eyes ricocheted among the walls, landing on the shut door. His clothes had been picked up from the floor and set on the foot of the bed. Daphne’s clothes were gone. He heard her clenched, whispered voice outside. He also heard Amir’s. Quickly he put on his shirt and pants. Gripping the doorknob, he now felt a fool. Where Amir had lost hope, Daphne had continued to believe their daughter was alive, and Haris had assumed this gulf allowed certain tolerances in their marriage. The cable-knit sweater he wore, the khakis—he would have to admit his infidelity with Amir’s wife while wearing Amir’s clothes.

Bracing himself for this task, he stepped into the living room.

“Five thousand is absurd!” said Amir. He stood in front of the television in his powder-blue pajamas, watching the news on mute. Daphne sat behind him on the sofa bed, which had been folded up from the night before. Amir turned briefly toward his wife, who glanced back at Haris.

“Good morning,” said Amir.

“Good morning,” replied Haris, shakily.

“Daph’s told me about your friend in the hospital,” Amir said. Then he rested his eyes on his wife. “Well, I guess we wouldn’t call him that, would we? Anyway, he’s asking for too much.”

Daphne interrupted: “You can get it from Marty.”

“That’s not the point,” said Amir. “This fellow conned you once before. He’s ripping you off again.” Haris hadn’t made it much past the door. Granting him a moment to catch up with the morning’s events, Amir stepped toward Daphne. “Would you mind running out to get us some…” He glanced around the kitchen. “Some milk.”

“Milk?” said Daphne.

“Yes, milk,” replied Amir, gesturing for Haris to join him on the sofa.

Daphne didn’t move.

“Please,” Amir insisted.

She put on her coat and left.

Haris and Amir sat next to each other. Neither spoke. Haris didn’t know what needed to be said, and Amir didn’t seem to know quite how to say it. They both gazed out the window into Antep City Park, Daphne’s place.

“I walked back through the park last night,” said Amir. He pointed to a wet heap of clothes crumpled at the bottom of the dresser.

“Where from?” asked Haris, grateful they’d begun with small talk.

“The mall. I had dinner there, did some work. When I was done I just felt like walking. With the rain, I wanted to see how everyone was making out.”

“How were they making out?”

“They slept in the mud, a few had tarps, but everyone was wet.”

Haris stood from the sofa, stepping to the window. Taking a closer look at the park, he could see clothes hanging from the elm branches. The leaves still cupped last night’s rain and, with each gust of wind, that rain fell in shimmers and landed among tarps spread in the grass, all of them drying in the sun, bright and wide as an SOS signal on a deserted island.

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