noise!’
A man started to recite a verse from the Qur’an, and as we went further out to sea, other people joined in, their voices merging with the sounds of the waves and the wind.
I had one hand in the water. I kept it there, feeling the movement, the rush of sea, the aliveness of it, the way it got colder as we moved away from the land. I placed my other hand on Afra’s arm but she didn’t respond; her lips were pursed, like a closed shell.
Mohammed’s teeth were chattering. ‘We haven’t fallen in yet,’ he said.
I laughed. ‘No,’ I said. ‘Not yet.’
The boy’s eyes widened, full of genuine fear. It seemed that he’d been relying on my ignorant optimism.
‘Don’t worry,’ I said, ‘we won’t fall in. People are praying. Allah will hear.’
‘Why didn’t he hear the other people?’
‘We’ve been through this already.’
‘I know, because we’re special. My feet are wet.’
‘Mine too.’
‘My feet are cold.’
‘Mine too.’
Mohammed glanced over at Afra. ‘Are your wife’s feet cold?’
‘I suppose so.’
‘Why doesn’t she say anything?’
The boy stared at her for a while, looking at her face, her scarf, her clothes, her hands, her legs, her feet. I followed his eyes, wondering what he was thinking, what he was trying to figure out, where his mother was.
‘How long will it take?’
‘Six hours.’
‘How long has it been already?’
‘Six minutes.’
‘No! It’s been longer than that!’
‘Then why do you ask?’
‘Sixteen minutes!’
‘OK, sixteen.’
‘We have five hours and forty-four minutes left. I will count.’
‘Go ahead.’
He started to count, but by the time he got to the fifth minute he was fast asleep with his head on my shoulder.
I still had one hand on Afra’s arm and one hand in the water. I looked out into the darkness, all this sea and sky, and I couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. Is this what Afra saw every day? This absence of form.
A girl started to cry. ‘Shh!’ the mother said. ‘Shh! We have been told no noise!’
‘But we are in international waters!’ the girl cried. ‘I’m allowed now!’
At this the mother started to laugh. She laughed from her stomach and the girl switched suddenly from crying to laughing too. Finally, the mother caught her breath and said, ‘No, we aren’t yet in international waters.’
‘How do you know?’
‘I know.’
‘OK. When we get to that place, will you let me know?’
‘So that you can cry?’
‘Yes. I need to cry loudly,’ the girl said.
‘Why?’
‘Because that’s how scared I am.’
‘Go to sleep now,’ the mother said.
And then there was silence. There were no more prayers, no chanting, no whispers.
And maybe I fell asleep too, because I saw in front of me a series of images:
Colourful Lego pieces scattered about the floor
Blue tiles with black flowers
Afra wearing a yellow dress
Sami playing with the Lego in the living room, building a house
The apiaries in the field beneath the midday sun
The burned hives and the dead bees
Mustafa sitting in the middle of the field
Bodies floating in the river
Firas lying on the table at the morgue
Mustafa holding his hand
Afra at the souq with Sami on her knee
Sami’s eyes
Then there was darkness
I startled awake because there was panic.
The waves were bigger.
One man was shouting, ‘Get the water out! There is too much water!’
There were torches flashing, and hands scooping out the water, and children crying. Mohammed was wide-eyed and helping to empty out the water. I watched as men leapt into the sea, the boat immediately buoyant once again.
‘Nuri!’ Afra said. ‘Are you on the boat?’
‘Don’t worry,’ I said. ‘We are.’
‘Stay on the boat. Don’t go into the water.’
Mohammed was still scooping the water with his hands; everyone else on the boat was doing the same. The girl began to cry now. She was calling out to the men in the sea, calling them to come back onto the boat.
The water continued to rise and more men jumped out of the boat. Every child was crying except Mohammed. I could see his face, serious and determined, between the flashes of light.
There was a moment of complete darkness, and when the light of the torch flashed again, he was gone. Mohammed was not on the boat. I scanned the water, the black waves, as far as I could see, and then, without thinking, I jumped in. It was freezing but the waves weren’t as big as I’d thought, and I swam around, flashing the torch across the surface.
‘Mohammed!’ I called. ‘Mohammed!’ But there was no answer.
I could hear Afra’s voice from the boat. She was calling, but I