by Jef Aerts
Oh, Josh, you have the most beautiful wings of all of us.
If you really want to do something, then you can!
And then they let go of me, all those beaks at once. For one moment, I was plummeting down. For that one terrible moment, I thought I’d be smashed to pieces.
But then the blue wings swept open—and off I flew.
Jadran jolted me awake when he turned to lie on his other side. Which he did every ten minutes. His elbows banged against the floorboards, and his knees jabbed me in the back.
But then how could you sleep well on a bare floor, with nothing but a blanket to protect you from the cold and a gym bag for a pillow? There were cracks everywhere, the shutters rattled, and the whole trailer rocked with the wind. It was making me seasick. And it was making Jadran cough. He was coughing so hard that it seemed like trains were thundering along the abandoned railroad tracks again.
At six o’clock, when a nearby donkey began to bray, we decided we’d had enough. Only Sprig still had his head buried deep in his feathers.
“Let’s go,” muttered Jadran, stuffing everything back into the gym bag.
“I need to go to the bathroom first,” I said.
I thought about the hospital, how a nurse had to help me onto the toilet and how awkward it had been. But Jadran had no problem with it. He helped me like a real nurse. Very carefully, he led me down the steps of the trailer. He looked away at the right moment and then held out the tissues.
I took out the telephone again and reread Yasmin’s message. The less she knows about us, the better, I thought. She’d sworn an oath, but would she be able to keep her mouth shut? I still couldn’t resist writing something back though. As long as I kept it vague enough, it couldn’t do any harm, could it?
With numb fingers, I typed:
Everything’s okay. No need for mom to worry.
Without an X.
Sprig sat drowsily on my lap. Jadran turned right, even though I had no idea if that was the right direction. There wasn’t even a line of sun on the horizon yet. A light was on behind the curtain in one house, but otherwise everything was dark. Jadran seemed to have made up his mind though.
“How do you know for certain that we need to go that way?”
“Look, Josh. Don’t you see?” Jadran held up his hand and pointed at the dark roof of one of the houses. “Those shiny things. They’re sun panels, right?”
“Um, yes.”
“Well then.”
“Well then what?” I was getting irritable.
“Sun panels point at the sun. Otherwise they’re not sun panels.”
Then I saw what he meant. All the solar panels were facing more or less in the same direction. Jadran was right. They were like signposts pointing to the sun, even when it was nowhere to be seen.
“You’re a genius!” I shouted.
And Jadran kept repeating that for ages. “Did you hear that, Sprig? I’m a genius! And geniuses always go the right way. Don’t they, Josh? Geniuses never get lost.”
It was still really chilly outside. I pushed Sprig out of the way and pulled the blanket up over my chin. Jadran wasn’t bothered by the cold. He clenched one hand on the steering wheel and the other around the gearshift. He straightened his back and looked like he’d never done anything but carry cranes and injured brothers around on a tractor.
The tension after Yasmin and Murad arrived, the accident and the move to the Space—it all seemed so far away.
I hadn’t seen my brother this content in a long time.
So cheerful and self-confident.
Until I started talking about Dad.
WE WERE DRIVING THROUGH OPEN countryside, with stubbly fields and endless hedges. I gave Sprig some of the food we’d brought. He greedily pecked the grains of corn from my hand. Jadran sat humming to himself. There was a bunch of dark fuzz on his top lip.
“Do you ever think about him?” I asked.
Jadran looked around. “About who?”
“Dad.”
At home I never dared ask about him. Mom didn’t like it. She was afraid it would upset Jadran. But here, with my brother humming away so blissfully, I did dare.
“Why? Dad’s gone.”
“Yes, of course. That’s the point.”
I hardly remembered anything about Dad myself. I couldn’t—Dad had left before I could really talk. The first couple of years he’d sometimes called from Russia or sent a postcard from some even more remote country. But then it stopped. Almost all the images I had of him were secondhand. They came from photos I found among the junk in the basement, a folder of newspaper clippings about his performances with Mom, the things that she or Jadran told me.
Jadran shook Dad out of his head again.
“It’s my fault,” he said. “Everything’s always my fault, isn’t it?”
“Stop it, Giant. Why don’t you tell me something nice about back then instead? I was tiny when he left, but you must still remember stuff.”
“I don’t remember anything.”
“Those wings of Mom’s, for example. She used them in a musical with Dad. And you loved their performances, didn’t you?”
Jadran forgot to step on the gas. We slowly rolled until the tractor came to a stop. I should never have mentioned Dad.
“The Blue Angel,” he murmured. “Dad gave me some colored pencils. Half of the tips were broken. I had to sit at the back of the room. But I didn’t color. I watched.”
“And what did you see?”
“They sang to each other. Mom was wearing those wings, and Dad had a long coat and a big moustache.”
“Dad with a moustache? That sounds funny.”
“Yuck! They started kissing in front of the whole room.”
“Oh, so they still loved each other?”
Jadran made a sour face, like he’d just bitten into something really gross.
Then he slammed his foot on the pedal again.
It made Sprig jump. He hopped onto the back of the seat, flapped his wings, and took off. He flew an extra circle when we went too slowly, turned with us whenever we went around a bend, and cried out shrilly when he lost sight of us among the trees.
“I’m hungry,” grumbled Jadran as we drove into yet another village. “Breakfast’s always at half past seven. Is it half past seven yet, Josh? We can’t have breakfast too late.”
The village was nothing more than a long line of houses. There was no sign of a store. But in the middle of the village street there was a vending machine with loaves of bread inside.
“Got any change?” I asked.
Jadran dug around in his jacket. Mom sometimes gave him some pocket money, and he’d fished the smallest coins out of the fountain. They jingled in his hand. He put them into the slot, one by one, but the machine didn’t accept the five-cent pieces. Time after time, they rolled into the tray at the bottom. And, every time, Jadran pushed them back in.
“It doesn’t like them!” He gave the side of the machine such a thump that it made the glass shake. “I want some bread!”
On the other side of the street, there was a small garage where they repaired mopeds and lawnmowers. The door opened. A man in stained overalls came out to take a look.
“What’s going on here?”
“I’m hungry! I want some bread, but I can’t get it!”
“Shh,” I said. “Stop using the copper coins. It’ll work with the ten and twenty cents.”
But Jadran just put all the five-cent pieces in again. They rattled straight through the machine.
Boom! He banged his forehead against the glass.
Boom! “Bread!” Boom!
I knew Jadran wasn’t that upset because of the bread. Dad was still racing around inside his head.
The mechanic was on the sidewalk in front of the garage by then. He had the eyebrows of a yeti. All the hair from his scalp seemed to have slid down to the spot over his eyes.
“Go on, Giant. Just use the gold coins.” I wanted to help him, but I was glued to
the tractor seat because of that miserable plaster cast.
The man shambled across the street. Sprig hurried to the roof of a shed. Frightened, Jadran dropped the copper coins. They clinked onto the concrete. I really didn’t want him going crazy now.
“Quick!” I shouted. “Let’s get out of here.” I slid forward a little and put my good leg on the step. Clasping one hand on the tractor, I pushed myself up with the other.
“I haven’t seen you two around here before.” The mechanic wiped his hands on his overalls.
“We wanted to buy some bread,” I replied. “But the machine wasn’t working and my brother …”
“Thought he’d just give it a bash?” said the man. If the yeti existed, it’d probably sound just as grumpy.
Jadran fell onto his knees to pick up the coins. His whole body was shaking.
“Bread,” he mumbled. “I just want some bread.”
“Keep breathing,” I whispered. “The man’s not going to hurt you. Breathe in deep, and then breathe out slowly.”
I tried to get closer to him. I put my weight on my hands and moved my foot lower. But my plaster cast got stuck behind the gearshift. And I slipped.
“Giant, I—”
Before Jadran could do anything, I fell off the tractor.
The man stared in amazement at my brother and then at me, lying there on the road with my leg in the air. Then he reached out his hairy arm to help me up.
But he wasn’t taking Jadran into account. Jadran scrambled to his feet, stuck out his chin, and stood right in front of me. His big hands waved menacingly above the man.
“Leave him alone!” he barked. “Josh is my brother.”
The mechanic took a step back and wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead.
“Sorry, guys,” he said, now in a completely different tone. “I just thought …”
“Brothers always stay together!” Jadran took me in his arms and carefully lifted me back up onto the tractor.
While the stunned man watched, Jadran picked up the last of the money off the ground.
“The gold coins,” I said again. “Just use the gold coins.”
Jadran tried one more time. The door of the machine finally clicked open and he pulled out a loaf. He shoved half a slice of bread into his mouth and climbed back up behind the steering wheel.
Then he made the engine roar louder than ever before.
PAST THE VILLAGE WE CAME onto a long, broad road. On both sides there were low fruit trees covered with nets. I’d scraped my arm when I fell, and I couldn’t manage to sit there calmly. What if that yeti called the police?
Jadran seemed to have forgotten the man already. He was humming louder and louder. And soon, with his lips covered in breadcrumbs, he was singing some oldie song about falling in love again.
I recognized the song. Jadran often hummed it. But never when Mom was around. It made her twitchy.
I leaned forward as far as I could.
“Is that from The Blue Angel?” I called above the drone of the engine.
Jadran held the steering wheel with one hand and rummaged around in the bag of bread with the other.
“Mom sang it at a bar,” he said. “And then Dad came to watch her. But she didn’t like that. She pushed him away, but he kept coming back with his gross moustache.”
“Do you mean at the theater?” I asked. “And the bar was the set?”
Jadran nodded. “The whole room clapped. And after, they pulled Mom up with the blue wings on.”
I slid forward a bit more so that I didn’t miss anything. A pain shot through my leg. “Was she flying?”
“She was hanging on a rope above the stage. I saw it myself. She went right up to the ceiling. At the end, she was gone.”
“And what about Dad?”
“He was lying dead on the ground.”
“Dad’s not dead. He’s gone, but he’s not dead.”
“On the stage, idiot.”
“Okay, genius.”
I took a piece of bread from the bag too. I picked off some crumbs, squashed them into little balls, and put them on my tongue like pieces of candy.
Jadran wasn’t humming anymore. He was staring straight ahead.
“They argued in the car,” he said.
“On the way home, you mean?”
“They were yelling at each other. But yelling’s not allowed, is it?”
All I had left was a crust. A thin, brown crust with a hole in the middle. I tried to make shapes out of it: a square, an egg, a bird.
A big, hollowed-out heart.
Jadran straightened his back and lowered his voice.
“It can’t go on like this!” he suddenly shouted.
Sprig jumped.
“Huh? You talking to me?” I asked.
“It’s now or never, Margot.”
“Oh, you mean Mom?”
Jadran didn’t reply. He was in the back seat of Mom and Dad’s car again, and he was completely absorbed in their conversation.
“We can’t stop now,” he said in Dad’s voice. “We have the opportunity to perform in Russia. Don’t you get it? You still don’t get it, do you?”
Jadran raised his eyebrows like Mom sometimes did and spoke like a young woman. “Come on, Max. Jadran can’t take it anymore. The traveling, all the people. It’s not good for him. As you’re well aware.”
Jadran was performing a play. That was how it seemed. He was using complicated sentences and words he didn’t entirely understand. But this wasn’t a play. It was a real fight between Mom and Dad. And it was fixed in his memory forever.
“It’s our dream, Margot,” said Dad. “We’ll conquer the world. And now we’re getting to perform in Russia—just imagine!”
“This is no life for a child like him,” replied Mom. “And with little Josh too …”
“Jadran doesn’t have to come. There are special places for boys like him. Better places than a theater or a hotel. And when we’re on vacation …”
“He’s your son! You can’t just leave him behind!”
Jadran stepped on the brake. The tractor jerked to a stop. Sprig flew on a bit and then came back in a wide curve and perched in a nearby tree.
“So you’re quitting?” Jadran’s voice sounded even deeper than before.
He stuck his chin in the air and blew out with a big sigh.
“Don’t force me to choose, Max,” said Mom.
Sprig flew down from the tree and hopped over to Jadran, who was now sitting with his back against one of the wheels of the tractor. I wished I could hug his head to my chest and comfort him, but I was stuck there in the seat. Sprig tugged Jadran’s laces loose with his beak. Jadran just let him.
“Is that how it happened?” I asked. “Is that when Mom and Dad split up?”
Jadran looked up to where I was sitting. The clouds were reflected in his eyes.
“It’s all my fault, isn’t it?” he whispered. “Everything’s always my fault.”
Where are you guys?! X. Yas.
Can’t tell you anything. J.
They sent out a missing person alert. Your photo looks really dumb. Bad hair day!
How’s mom doing?
She wants them to drag the lake.
What?!
With divers and everything. She’s scared you guys drove that dumb tractor into it.
Tell her we’re not in the lake.
Then where are you?
Duh.
Go on, I’m kind of like your sister now.
You think?
By the way, that’s my phone! X.
Jadran didn’t want to hear what Yasmin had written. He was trying to strike up a conversation with Sprig, who was tidying up his feathers on the seat on the other fender.
“We’ll find them,” he said. “Your family’s waiting for you. They’re collecting beetles for you.”
Sprig pecked at the needle that indicated the speed. His beak tapped the glass.
“Hey, it’s not a worm, Sprig,” laughed J
adran. “It says fifteen. That’s how fast we’re going.”
Then Sprig took off, as if he wanted to show that he could go much faster. He flapped a bit ahead of the tractor, drifted on a gust of wind, and then came back and flew directly above us. His flight feathers swished. His belly feathers were smooth. It was no effort at all for Sprig to stay in the air now.
Being able to breathe like a bird—that’d be so amazing! With air sacs in your body and cavities in your bones, so the oxygen could flow all the way from your chest to the tips of your wings. And to feel yourself getting lighter and lighter with every breath, so light that your body slowly rose.
Full and free, into the clouds.
Jadran was making funny faces. He put two fingers up his nose and pushed down the corners of his eyes. It looked scary, but I laughed anyway. He was finally cheerful again.
“Have you heard that joke about Winnie the Pooh?” he asked.
“No,” I lied.
Jadran put on a voice like a schoolteacher. “How are Winnie the Pooh and Jadran the Giant the same?”
“Jadran the Giant …? Oh, I know,” I answered, as I was supposed to. “They share the same middle name, huh?”
“No, no, no, I got you!” Jadran doubled up. “You’re wrong! They’re both really fond of honey candies!”
He’d already told that joke a hundred times. But we still roared with laughter.
We drove on until midday and parked the tractor in the shelter of a sunken road. We went and lay down in some grass higher up on the bank and ate some bread. The ground was damp, but the fall sunshine made up for a lot.
Sprig fluffed up his feathers, stuck his beak under his wing, and stood napping on one leg. Jadran dozed off too. I wasn’t sleepy. I could really feel the stabbing pain in my leg now, and my skin burning under the plaster.
For a while, nothing happened.
Leaves rustled. Shapeless clouds drifted past.
Then a car slowed down in the sunken road. A red Volvo with a long trunk pulled up behind our tractor. The sound of the door opening startled Jadran awake.
