Read Online Tiger Milk by Stefanie de Velasco - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Stefanie de Velasco
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answered, says Jameelah sounding agitated, Jasna’s on the balcony and she says she’s going to jump.
No, I think, this is just another one of Jameelah’s stories.
Seriously, she really is standing on the railing of her balcony and unless a miracle happens she’s going to jump, there’s already an ambulance and a fire truck here.
Quickly I pull a hoodie over my pyjamas and run out and head across the playground. The wet sand squishes beneath my Chucks. The farther I run the louder the sirens get and there’s cops and EMTs all over the place, the pavement in front of the building is jammed with people. Jameelah is standing in the street and waves me over to her, the hood of her jumper is pulled down over her face. I look up to the balcony but nobody’s there.
She was there until a second ago, says Jameelah, Tarik locked her in their apartment but now she’s not letting anyone in. We all had to evacuate to the street because she threatened to blow the place up with the stove if anyone tried to come into the apartment.
I want to answer but just then the door to the balcony opens. Jasna has her long hair pulled into a thick ponytail and it’s hanging over her chest all the way down to her hips like in a fairytale, like someone has just shouted for Rapunzel to let down her hair. Her hands claw the balcony handrail covered with henna tattoos, blood-red. All around us are uniformed men in the street, yellow, red, blue uniforms standing around smoking and waiting to see what Jasna’s next move will be.
Like on TV, says Jameelah pointing at the firemen who have spread out one of those things you can jump onto and when I see it I get a lump in my throat in the exact spot where the scar from the tracheotomy is and I suck in a deep breath of air like I’m going to have to stay underwater for a long time.
Amir, I say, where is Amir.
Jameelah slowly lifts her arm like she’s underwater too and with her lips she starts to form some word but I turn and see Amir and Tarik and Selma and their mother on the pavement not far from us and I go over to them but somehow they’re actually really far away even though they are all standing right there nearby and it seems like an eternity before I reach then.
Amir, I say but he doesn’t react, he just stares up at the balcony, Tarik, I say, but he doesn’t react either. Cautiously I touch his arm and when he turns to me I have to gulp again because I’ve never seen Tarik crying before, I didn’t even know he could.
Kiddo, he says putting his arm around my shoulders, go home, go home as fast as you can but then Tarik’s mother throws her hand in front of her mouth and screams. I look up at the balcony and Jasna is sitting on the railing. It’s not as bad as it seems, I think breathing deeply, it’s just a bad movie, a porno with Rapunzel in the lead role. Now the men on the street, the firemen and EMTs and police, all seem to start to stretch toward the balcony. It’s easy to imagine since Jasna’s not wearing anything but her yellow bikini.
Dragan where are you, where is my fiancé, Jasna shouts.
Can someone find this Dragan, says a police officer to Tarik, where is this man?
I think he’s at the gym, says Amir quietly, I saw him earlier with his duffel bag.
Then you can at least try to talk to her, says one of the firemen to Jasna’s mother.
She should get out of here I don’t want to talk to her, screams Jasna climbing back down from the railing, get out of here she screams and then she starts throwing all kinds of stuff down from the balcony, rubbish, the rack for drying clothes, Selma’s stroller, and everything lands one after the next on the street near us. Jasna’s mother sobs more loudly.
Yeah, now you’re crying, screams Jasna, but first, first you drag me into this world and then you leave me all alone and now, now when I want to die you cry.
Her mother shelters herself in Tarik’s arms and puts her hands on his broad shoulders and makes two fists
No, I think, this is just another one of Jameelah’s stories.
Seriously, she really is standing on the railing of her balcony and unless a miracle happens she’s going to jump, there’s already an ambulance and a fire truck here.
Quickly I pull a hoodie over my pyjamas and run out and head across the playground. The wet sand squishes beneath my Chucks. The farther I run the louder the sirens get and there’s cops and EMTs all over the place, the pavement in front of the building is jammed with people. Jameelah is standing in the street and waves me over to her, the hood of her jumper is pulled down over her face. I look up to the balcony but nobody’s there.
She was there until a second ago, says Jameelah, Tarik locked her in their apartment but now she’s not letting anyone in. We all had to evacuate to the street because she threatened to blow the place up with the stove if anyone tried to come into the apartment.
I want to answer but just then the door to the balcony opens. Jasna has her long hair pulled into a thick ponytail and it’s hanging over her chest all the way down to her hips like in a fairytale, like someone has just shouted for Rapunzel to let down her hair. Her hands claw the balcony handrail covered with henna tattoos, blood-red. All around us are uniformed men in the street, yellow, red, blue uniforms standing around smoking and waiting to see what Jasna’s next move will be.
Like on TV, says Jameelah pointing at the firemen who have spread out one of those things you can jump onto and when I see it I get a lump in my throat in the exact spot where the scar from the tracheotomy is and I suck in a deep breath of air like I’m going to have to stay underwater for a long time.
Amir, I say, where is Amir.
Jameelah slowly lifts her arm like she’s underwater too and with her lips she starts to form some word but I turn and see Amir and Tarik and Selma and their mother on the pavement not far from us and I go over to them but somehow they’re actually really far away even though they are all standing right there nearby and it seems like an eternity before I reach then.
Amir, I say but he doesn’t react, he just stares up at the balcony, Tarik, I say, but he doesn’t react either. Cautiously I touch his arm and when he turns to me I have to gulp again because I’ve never seen Tarik crying before, I didn’t even know he could.
Kiddo, he says putting his arm around my shoulders, go home, go home as fast as you can but then Tarik’s mother throws her hand in front of her mouth and screams. I look up at the balcony and Jasna is sitting on the railing. It’s not as bad as it seems, I think breathing deeply, it’s just a bad movie, a porno with Rapunzel in the lead role. Now the men on the street, the firemen and EMTs and police, all seem to start to stretch toward the balcony. It’s easy to imagine since Jasna’s not wearing anything but her yellow bikini.
Dragan where are you, where is my fiancé, Jasna shouts.
Can someone find this Dragan, says a police officer to Tarik, where is this man?
I think he’s at the gym, says Amir quietly, I saw him earlier with his duffel bag.
Then you can at least try to talk to her, says one of the firemen to Jasna’s mother.
She should get out of here I don’t want to talk to her, screams Jasna climbing back down from the railing, get out of here she screams and then she starts throwing all kinds of stuff down from the balcony, rubbish, the rack for drying clothes, Selma’s stroller, and everything lands one after the next on the street near us. Jasna’s mother sobs more loudly.
Yeah, now you’re crying, screams Jasna, but first, first you drag me into this world and then you leave me all alone and now, now when I want to die you cry.
Her mother shelters herself in Tarik’s arms and puts her hands on his broad shoulders and makes two fists
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