by Jef Aerts
Jadran was rocking uneasily back and forth. A drowsy fly had been lured out of its hiding place by the warmth of the heating, and it was buzzing against the kitchen light. I stuffed my mouth full of cornflakes so that I didn’t have to say anything.
“Enjoying your breakfast?” Murad ventured.
Mom tipped the blue feathers back into the dusty garment bag, which she’d fetched from the basement. She pulled so hard on the zipper that it seemed like she wanted to never be able to open it again.
At half past eight, Mom took Jadran to the Space. She and Mika were going to talk it all through with him. And he could take a look at his room. Tonight he’d sleep at home for the last time, and tomorrow we’d move his things for good.
My stomach cramped up when I thought about it, and Jadran was dreading it too. He froze in the hallway and then pressed all the elevator buttons. He didn’t agree to go until Mika called and asked if he wanted to go on the tractor with her after their discussion.
I retreated to the balcony. The wheelchair only just fit, and the wheels were soon covered in bird poop. Sprig was sitting on his blanket with his legs folded under the warm down on his belly. I gave him a worm and stroked his head, just where the first few black feathers were growing.
“Giant’s leaving tomorrow,” I said. “And then we’re taking you back.”
Sprig swallowed the worm in one bite. I clenched my fingers around the railing. The rain blew cold against my cheeks.
When you can’t talk things out, you have to walk them off. That’s what Mom always used to say when we’d been waiting for hours on our bench at the children’s hospital yet again. Jadran had to go there for all kinds of tests, so that the doctors could figure out in actual numbers what exactly was different about him. What percentage he was ordinary and what percentage he was extraordinary.
While we were waiting, Mom used to take me outside and we’d go for a walk. Every step was a word, every sidewalk was a sentence. It didn’t improve our conversations any, but we never got lost.
Now I couldn’t walk. And talking to Mom was completely impossible. It wasn’t just my legs that were broken, it was our words too.
“There’s no need for us to worry. Jadran’s going to be okay,” she said when she got home. “He’s getting the room next to Guillaume’s. He has a TV and his own bathroom.”
I was playing Battleship with myself on a sheet of graph paper. Mom opened her laptop. Her fingers rested on the keyboard but they didn’t move.
Yasmin came and joined us at the table. She was making flowers out of crepe paper, and before long she had a whole pile of them.
“For the party,” she said.
“What party?” I aimed a bomb and put a cross in the sea. X.
“For tomorrow,” said Yasmin. “When Jadran leaves! We have to do something, don’t we?”
“You don’t have a party because someone’s going away, do you?” I fired again and sank a battleship. XXX. I won and lost at the same time.
“Take it easy, Josh. You know that Yasmin means well.” Mom closed her laptop and came and stood behind me. “Maybe we should all make a bit more of an effort.”
“An effort? What for?” I leaned forward and put my head on my arms.
But Mom wasn’t going to be put off. She rubbed her hands warm and massaged my shoulder blades, exactly in the spot where angels’ wings grow.
“For each other,” she said. “We need to be kind to each other.”
All that massaging was getting on my nerves. I shoved the wheelchair backward and banged into her hips.
“And what about Jadran?” I yelled. “Do you call that kind? You’re just abandoning him!”
Mom took hold of my arm and firmly rolled me back. “I’m not abandoning anyone!”
“So why are you putting him in an institution?”
Mom hadn’t expected that. She sighed herself inside out.
“That does sound pretty cold,” she said. “But it’s not cold at the Space at all. Jadran’s going to be in a community with other nice young people like him. It’s the best solution now. For us, for Murad and Yasmin. But for him too!”
She was talking very calmly, to make sure every word went in. But to me it sounded more fake and two-faced than ever.
AFTER LUNCH I DID DR. MBASA’S exercises, and then I was supposed to rest. Mom helped me lie down on the sofa and put the box of painkillers on the table for me. While I was sleeping, she went into town to buy an alarm clock for Jadran.
Mom had pulled the door shut behind her for just a minute when the bell rang. Yasmin came into the room, looking annoyed, and peered at the screen of the intercom.
“It’s Jadran!”
“What’s he doing here?” I pulled myself up on the back of the sofa, so that I could look at the screen too. All I could see was a gigantic nose. “Mom was supposed to be picking him up later, wasn’t she?”
“Quick!” yelled Jadran. “Open the door!”
There was hay on his jacket, and he was wearing his rubber boots. He must have been waiting outside on the lookout until Mom left. But he hadn’t expected Yasmin to be home too.
“What are you doing here?” He wiped his face on his sleeve and pushed Yasmin out of the way.
“Someone had to look after your brother, didn’t they?” she snapped, quickly grabbing the paper flowers off the table.
Jadran ran to the sofa where I was lying and jabbed his finger at Yasmin.
“She’s not allowed to know about it,” he whispered. “She has to leave!”
The corners of Yasmin’s mouth twitched, but luckily she was getting used to Jadran. “I’ll just go get those dwarfs off my door. Then you can take them with you tomorrow.”
Jadran held his breath until Yasmin disappeared into the hallway to the bedrooms.
“Does Mom know you’re here?” I asked.
“Don’t you get it?” He pulled the cover off me. “You don’t get it, do you?”
“What am I supposed to get?”
“They want to split us up! You’re staying here and I have to go in the room next to Guillaume’s. I’ve seen it myself!”
I took hold of Jadran’s hands and tried to calm him by stroking his fingers. “I know, Giant. And I hate it too. Did Mika explain it to you?”
Jadran pulled away from me and went to the hall, where my wheelchair was. He grabbed the handles and frantically shook the wheelchair, trying to unfold it.
“You have to press down on the seat!” I shouted before he broke something.
Jadran banged the wheelchair into the sofa. “We’re brothers. Brothers belong together. Get in!”
“Calm down. You’re going way too fast. Anyway, I can’t get into the chair by myself yet.”
“Sorry, sorry. It’s all my fault, isn’t it?” First he pushed down the footrests and then he slid an arm under my legs, just like he’d seen Mika do. I didn’t dare to protest.
“What exactly are you planning to do?” I asked when Jadran had safely deposited me in the wheelchair.
He picked up the gym bag that I’d taken to the hospital, which was still by the washing machine. I knew I should call Mom now. But I didn’t do it.
“We have to be quick,” he said, pushing the box of painkillers into the bag. “No one’s allowed to see us!!”
Jadran stomped around, rummaging through stuff and packing the bag. I followed him in the wheelchair.
“Mom’s going to go crazy when she hears that you’ve run away again.” The muscles in my neck were twitching and I could feel the blood pounding in my head, but I did my best to talk as calmly as possible.
“You still don’t get it! I’m not going away. We’re going away. We have to stay together, Josh!” Then he spotted the pile of clothes that Mom was putting together for his new wardrobe. He took a pair of pants, socks, and a sweater and put them with the rest of the things in the gym bag.
I rolled toward him, put my hand on his wrist. “You’re right. We belong together. But we can’t just
disappear. My leg’s in a cast. And Mom …”
Who ever said my brother was slow, or that he couldn’t make any decisions for himself? He was running around the apartment again. He filled a water bottle and snatched the packet of waffle cookies from the kitchen counter.
“Okay, Giant,” I said when he finally stopped racing around. “Where do you want to go?”
Jadran looked toward the bedrooms, checking to see if Yasmin was secretly eavesdropping on us.
“We’re taking Sprig home!” he hissed.
The tension slipped from my shoulders. “Is that it? You want us to take Sprig back together?”
I didn’t think it was such a crazy idea. The cranes’ lake wasn’t too far, and he’d only just been there. We would go release Sprig together. We’d looked after him together and taught him how to fly again. It would be a nice farewell. A bunch of crepe-paper flowers didn’t come close.
“But then we’ll come straight back home, right?” I asked.
Jadran nodded and tossed my winter jacket onto my lap. Then he tried to put my walking boots on me.
“The cast is in the way,” I said. “My foot won’t fit anymore.”
Jadran was unstoppable. And I didn’t want to stop him anyway. I knew Mom wasn’t going to like it though. But she’d messed things up herself this time by sending Jadran away. And I wanted her to know that!
Jadran walked out onto the balcony, gave Sprig something gross from his pocket, and picked him up. “Come on, Spriggie, you can come too.”
Jadran pushed the crane against my stomach, grabbed the can of food, and hung the gym bag on one of the handles of the wheelchair. I clasped my hands around Sprig’s wings so he couldn’t bash me in the face. Then Jadran pushed me into the hallway.
“Wait a minute!” Yasmin came running after us with the rolled-up poster. She pulled the rubber band from her braid and slid it around the poster. “Where are you two off to so secretly?”
“Nowhere!” said Jadran. “We’re not going anywhere, are we, Josh?”
Yasmin looked at me and then at the crane on my lap. Jadran towered menacingly above her. She tapped the gym bag with the poster.
“So what do you need that for?” she asked.
“Nothing!” Jadran chased Yasmin back.
She made a face. “Oh, so the two of you are off to have fun doing nothing nowhere, are you?”
Yasmin was not going to just shrug and give up. And lying to her would only complicate things even more.
“We’re taking Sprig back,” I confessed. “Jadran wants us to do it ourselves, just the two of us, before tomorrow.”
Jadran glared at me. I’d blown our secret.
“I … am … staying … with … Josh,” he stammered. “I don’t want the room next to Guillaume’s. I don’t need my own bathroom.”
Yasmin bit her lip. “Okay, do what you like. But you guys could have at least have come said … bye, huh?”
“Bye,” repeated Jadran.
“And not a word to Mom or Murad,” I hissed. “They have to find out for themselves. By the time they notice, we’ll already be well on the way there.”
Yasmin held up her hand and promised, as if she was swearing an oath. Jadran looked impressed. Then she pulled her phone out of her back pocket.
“Here, take this with you.” She slipped the shiny smartphone past Sprig’s wings and into the inside pocket of my jacket. “For if your wheelchair breaks down. I’ll use my dad’s old phone until you get back.” The way she looked at me with her coal-dark eyes made me feel kind of uncomfortable.
Jadran brushed past Yasmin.
“Oh yes, the code’s the year we were born!” she called after us.
Then Jadran rolled me toward the elevator, full speed ahead.
THE TRACTOR WAS PARKED WITH its rear wheels in the flower bed. The roses were snapped and the sidewalk was covered with crushed rose hips. The tractor was a small, old-fashioned, orange Fiat with a big wooden bucket attachment at the back for moving shovels and plants around. If you didn’t know better, you’d think it belonged to the city gardening team.
But I did know better. The gardeners never parked their tractors in the plants like that. And there was an extra seat above the fenders on each side, so that two passengers could ride along safely.
Passengers from the Space.
“You stole the tractor!” I shouted.
“Didn’t steal it.” Jadran swung the gym bag into the bucket. There were still a few potatoes and a trowel in it.
“Do you mean we’re going to drive in that?” I asked.
“You can sit in Mika’s seat,” he said, like it was a huge honor.
He put Sprig on a fender, took me in his arms, and lifted me onto the plastic seat. It had a sturdy backrest, and luckily there was a belt to strap me in. It was a really tight fit though. My cast was jammed up against the driver’s seat. I had to be careful not to accidentally step on one of the pedals.
Sprig was clearly not impressed. He kept pattering back and forth and getting ready to jump down.
Jadran stood up again, took hold of the crane, and pressed him against my chest. “Hold on tightly to him!”
He managed to fold up the wheelchair surprisingly quickly. He pushed the footrests aside, lifted the seat, and slid it into the bucket. Then he climbed behind the steering wheel and stuck the key in the ignition. He put his foot on a pedal and turned the starter. The tractor rumbled to life. A stinky cloud of smoke rose up. We jolted backward, even deeper into the flowerbed. And then the tractor came to a stop.
“Sorry.” Jadran flapped the smoke away and rattled the gearshift. The engine roared. Lumps of mud flew all around.
Then we rumbled onto the street.
We drove past the apartment block. I didn’t dare to look up. Maybe Rafaela was watching us. Or maybe Yasmin was waving us off, after first having let Mom know what we were up to. Jadran had his eyes firmly fixed on the asphalt too. At a snail’s pace, we rolled past the parked cars.
A girl on a moped overtook us and looked back like she’d never seen a tractor before. But she wasn’t looking at the tractor, or at Sprig, or at my leg in its cast. She was looking at Jadran. At the way he was bent over the steering wheel, with his eyes squeezed into slits, and the tip of his tongue poking out of his mouth.
A van was coming our way.
“Keep to the right, Giant!”
Jadran gave the steering wheel a tug. The wheels grated against the curb. We bounced back and forth. I struggled to keep Sprig and myself on board.
Cars honked their horns. A man raised his fist. Jadran bit his tongue. He gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white.
Screwing up his face in concentration, he pushed down on the gas pedal.
His driving was getting better. We went past the high school where I’d be going next year, a huge rust-brown building without any drawings or decorations on the windows. I caught a glimpse of us reflected in the glass: Jadran at the steering wheel with his look of determination. Me with my cast and a crane on my lap. The wheelchair in the bucket. It was no wonder everyone was giving us such strange looks.
We drove past the movie theater and the drugstore where Rafaela worked. We bumped over the median strip, followed a footpath, and took a shortcut across the pedestrian zone by the library.
I could see that Jadran wasn’t taking the shortest route to the cranes’ lake. That would have meant taking the ring road and then going into the woods after the industrial park. He’d been there just a couple days ago, so he knew the way, but he seemed to have come up with a different route. His own secret route for tractors.
We followed a network of interweaving streets and squares. I didn’t even recognize some of the places, but Jadran took every fork and every roundabout without any hesitation.
It was market day in the Southside. There were stalls everywhere and stallholders shouting at the top of their voices. The scent of cut flowers and spices mingled with fried sausage and Turkish bread.
The people here didn’t seem so surprised to see the tractor. Maybe they thought Jadran was a farm boy bringing fresh produce from the field—and that I was perched up there with some kind of weird-looking chicken.
The river lay behind the market square. Jadran drove up to the water and parked neatly between the white lines on the concrete. Then he turned off the engine.
“Why are you stopping, Giant?”
Jadran looked at the clouds hanging above the river like flying ships.
“I don’t know the rest of the way,” he said.
“I’ll help you. The lake’s in that direction.” I pointed back the way we’d come and then right and into the woods.
He didn’t even look.
“South,” he mumbled. “The south is in Spain.”
I looked for the sun so I could show him which direction the south was in. But there were too many clouds.
“And this is the Southside, isn’t it? Sometimes we buy vegetables here with Mika. And then we make goulash like her grandma does.”
I nodded. “But we’re not going to buy anything now. We have to keep going with Sprig.”
Jadran beamed and gave the crane a stroke.
Sprig let the soccer referee’s whistle in his throat blow. Spririririree.
“Just like in the video,” said Jadran.
“With that hang glider, you mean?”
“With the tractor, stupid. We’re taking Sprig to Spain.”
I was too surprised to say anything. Jadran didn’t want to go back to the lake at all. We’re taking Sprig home, he’d said, to his family. But he meant their vacation home in the south!
I slapped the tractor with both hands. It sounded like a broken gong.
“We can’t go to Spain,” I said. “Spain’s way too far.”
“We’ll drive there on the tractor.”
I shook my head. “Come on, Giant, let’s go home.”
“I’m not allowed to go home.” Jadran’s face looked so sad. “I have to go to the room next to Guillaume’s. But you don’t. You’re staying with Mom.”
