Beneath the Lion's Gaze Read Free

when he knew he was under no obligation to follow the path his words had made for him.
    There is this to know of dying: it comes in moonlight thick as cotton and carves silence into all thoughts. She’d finally been able to form the words fully and lay them before him with a desperation that bordered on anger. This dying, my beloved, is dark and I am tired and you must let me go. Seven days ago, he’d stood in Prince Mekonnen Hospital gripping his ailing wife’s hand and heard from his mouth a promise that was already on its way to being broken. His wife was giving up and was asking him to do the same.
    Hailu stared at the long shadows in the living room he once shared with Selam. How many nights, how many of these moons did I watch shrink back into sunlight, then dusk with that woman by my side? It is 1974 and I am afraid without you, he admitted for the first time. Nothing I have ever learned has prepared me for the days ahead if you leave me now.
    He stood and walked through the living room into the dining area, resisting the urge to pause at Dawit’s door and reassure himself that his son hadn’t snuck out of the house. He’d told Dawit and Yonas to get ready to visit their mother. He’d seen the sullenness that had settled in Dawit’s face at his strict insistence that the three of them go together.
    “We’re a family,” he’d reminded Dawit, the words an echo of the many times he’d had to force Dawit to visit Selam with the rest of the family. His youngest son wanted no one around when he spoke with his mother, protective of their bond.

3.
    HIS FATHER WAS talking but Yonas was trying not to listen. They were waiting for Dawit so they could leave, the wait made longer by Hailu’s voice cutting through the early evening heat.
    “It happens to many people.” Hailu was matter-of-fact, his words clipped. “Their heart weakens, it fails to pump enough blood to the brain. Perfusion. The changes are dramatic. But it’s normal. If I can control the blood pressure for long enough, she’ll recover.” He smoothed his tie and adjusted his suit jacket. He’d dressed his best to visit Selam in the hospital. “I don’t understand what’s going wrong.”
    A numbing weight pressed on Yonas and settled into an ache. “You’ve gone over this so many times.”
    His father continued as if he hadn’t heard, a man trapped in his own language of grief. “Congestive heart failure,” he said. “Nothing more than the weakening of the heart.”
    “It’s time to go.” Yonas stood up.
    Hailu raised his prayer beads close to his chest. “She can be strong again. The doses of furosemide should have helped.”
    Yonas sat back down and let his eyes roam across the living room and settle on his father’s polished prayer beads. His father had started carrying his beads with him everywhere only a week ago. It had once been a point of contention between his parents, with Hailu insisting that religion was a private matter for doctors, not to be put on public display. But you need prayer, too, Selam argued, looking to Yonas as her ally. Hailu had been resolute: no one in his hospital or anywhere else should ever see that he had any doubts whatsoever about his capabilities. There are some, Hailu said, who mistake prayer for weakness.
    “We should go before it gets dark.” Yonas stood awkwardly in place. “Those soldiers stop every car at night”—he looked at his watch—“and we don’t want to be late.”
    Hailu moved towards Dawit’s room but Yonas held him back.“Not today,” he said. “We’ll be back again. You’re too tired for another fight.”
    Hailu shook his arm free. “If he doesn’t go with us, you know where he’ll go. I treated a boy his age today.”
    Yonas wrapped an arm around his shoulders and led him towards the door. “We have to get home before it gets late. Did you see the car that was burning on the street last night? With the university closed, these students have nothing to do but plan