‘Gel.’ Büyük anneanne crooks her finger. ‘Gel.’

‘Gelmem.’ He hooks his fingers around the back of the chair. Anne sighs and snatches on to one arm, pulling him roughly toward her grandmother. There’s a blanket over büyük anneanne’s lap on the couch, where she is heating her legs by the oven stove. They’re mottled and practically purple, with veins spiderwebbing across them. Sometimes, when they are swollen, büyük anneanne makes Serkan pull long tight socks onto her feet, which reach to her knees.