Read Online The Story of Her Holding an Orange by Milos Bogetic - Free Book Online

played basketball in. On the front page were my picture and an article telling about my life. If finding the ball and a GI Joe figure (which I now assumed was a toy from my childhood that I didn’t remember) wasn’t enough, the newspaper article lying on the trail confirmed that this whole thing was about me.
    I decided that I wouldn’t stop for anything again. Pedaling like a maniac, I passed by several more objects. 
    An Iron Maiden shirt I bought for their concert in New Jersey 7 years ago.
    A picture of my family in a broken picture frame.
    A Bart Simpson keychain I used to carry around in elementary school.
    At that point, I wasn’t sure if my pulse was going wild because of the fear or cycling so fast. Probably a combination of both. And the faster I’d pedal, the more often I’d stumble upon objects. I wasn’t even paying attention to them as I just wanted to get the fuck out of this foggy trail. Then, I saw a dead cat lying on the ground. It awfully resembled my kitten Pipi that I owned back when I was a kid. As I approached to look at the poor animal and see if, by some crazy fucking miracle, it was my kitty, I heard laughter again. Only this time, it was a young girl laughing. I looked up and saw a woman sitting on the bench not more than ten feet away from me. She wore a white dress. There was no doubt.
    It was Rose.
    For the second time that day, my legs nearly quit working. I don’t know what I expected, really. Did I think it was just a coincidence that my childhood memories were spread across the bike trail? Did I not think it was related to the fucking woman with the orange? I don’t know. But still, seeing Rose sitting there sent a wave of fear into my body. And then, the fear inside me was replaced by anger once again. I wanted to end this. I wanted to know why she was ruining my life. I wanted answers, and I was going to get them.
    With bravery fueled by frustration, I walked slowly towards Rose. She was still calmly sitting on the bench, smiling with those damn bright red lips and looking at me with her head tilted to the side. I faltered slightly as she came into clear view and I could see that she hadn’t aged at all in the ten years I hadn’t seen her. Even that couldn’t stop me, though.
    “Sit,” Rose ordered in my native language.
    “No,” I answered firmly, wanting to let her know that, this time, I wasn’t fucking around.
    “You’ve been a very stubborn boy, Milos.”
    I snapped. 
    “What in the fuck do you want from me?!” I screamed. The knot of fear and anger in my chest was expanding. “What possible reason can there be for all this shit? You’re ruining my life!” 
    “No need to yell, Milos,” she answered, smiling, unfazed. 
    “No, there is a need to yell! Do you realize what you’ve done to me? My life is being ruined by you crazy fucks.”
    “I only want you to take it,” she said, picking up an orange that was resting next to her on the bench. “All of this could have been avoided if you would have just taken it.”
    “First, tell me what it means, then maybe I’ll take it,” I replied. “And tell me who that man is.”
    “I can’t tell you just yet,” Rose said. The contrast between her adult, almost formal phrasing and the childish voice she spoke in was eerie. 
    “Well, fuck you and your fucking orange, I’m not taking shit. And next time I see you, you’re getting arrested. I’ve had enough of this,” I said, turning around to go get my bike.
    Rose lost her smile. Her head snapped upright, and she spoke with an adult voice. “It’s not your decision to make.”
    “Yeah? And what are you going to do about it? More oranges?” I demanded. “I’m not joking, the next time you try shit like this, you’re going to jail.”
    She started laughing, but it was definitely not an amused laugh. It was cold and mocking, as if I’d said something incredibly simple-minded.
    “You think the police can help? Or your friends?” she said derisively.