Authors: Stefanie de Velasco,
Tiger Milk (27 page)
That’s crazy, I say.
We have to turn in our passports tomorrow, says Jameelah.
Why?
So we don’t drop out of sight beforehand. What do they think, that I’m Anne Frank or something?
Dropping out of sight is a good idea, who is it you said managed to do that?
Anne Frank.
Anne Frank, wait, does she go to our school? The name sounds familiar.
Man the diary! The diary of Anne Frank!
Oh right, I say, we read that in Struck’s class. That was boring. And the type was so small.
It was only boring because we read the boring version, there’s another one, in the other one Anne Frank writes about her pussy and the guy she’s in love with, Peter. It’s really good.
I want to read that one. Do you own a copy?
No Lukas loaned it to me, but you can have it. I’m never going to see Lukas again.
Better wait and see, I say.
Do you not get it, Jameelah screams and jumps down from the electrical box, they’re deporting us! I have to leave, I’m not going to become German, I’m never ever going to become German!
Today I found an eyelash and for the first time in ages wished for something. When I was a kid I would pull out an eyelash whenever I wanted to wish for something. Why wait for one to fall out when there were so many just lining my eyes and all I had to do was pull the wishes out, I thought, but none of the wishes ever came true, probably because I didn’t wait for them to fall out. I have no idea how many lashes I must have pulled out for that alone, just so I could wish for Papa to come home, over and over. That’s all I ever used any lashes for whether they fell out or I pulled them out. I know that having Papa come home was a big wish, but none of the smaller wishes ever came true either, not that I expected them to, but still.
I go into the hall and pull on my Chucks.
Let me know when you guys are ready, calls Rainer from the living room.
Yep, I say opening the door to leave.
I walk across the playground and ring at Jameelah’s.
Upstairs she’s standing in the apartment door barefoot with her hair pulled back, that’s how long it’s got.
Hi, she says as I make it up the last step.
Hi, I say.
Everything echoes in the empty rooms. No idea how Noura and Jameelah managed to completely clear out the apartment while still going to school and to work. Noura wanted it that way, I want everything to stay as normal as possible until the very last day, she had said, and I don’t want anyone to find out, she said, it’s bad enough for us without having to be ashamed on top of it all.
Now the apartment is empty, all that’s left are the keys sitting on the spotlessly scrubbed kitchen counter and next to them the letter from the immigration office. It’s folded twice so that all you can see is the part in the middle. I don’t need to read it again anyway, I know it by heart, I must have read it a hundred times, I even copied it by hand and took the copy to Krap-Krüger. Jameelah doesn’t know about it, I only went because I was so desperate and Krap-Krüger’s a human rights activist. I waited until Lukas and Tobi and Nadja and all the rest had left and then I went in to the tea shop, which as usual smelled like god’s rotten earth but I tried to breathe through my mouth so I didn’t have to smell it.
Krap-Krüger was really nice at first, he put on his reading glasses and read the text of the letter but after that he looked at me and shook his head.
What can be done to fight it, I asked him.
Krap-Krüger tossed his glasses onto the couch and said, you’re just coming now?
I didn’t understand what he meant.
Why, I asked, when else was I supposed to come?
It’s too late now, Krap-Krüger had said pointing to the letter, you should have come to me much earlier, these bureaucracies, he said, they’re cold and uncaring, to them it’s not about individual people, this is just a routine transaction to them, with people like that you have to hit them with their own legal language but that takes time, my god my dear, I was here the whole summer.
Here, says Jameelah handing me a piece of scrap paper, this is Amir’s new address.
At that group home?
Yeah but it’s not so bad, I was there, most of the people are out of their chadors but the supervisors are alright. It just takes so long for the whole thing to be resolved, but then he’ll be able to move back in with his mother.
Noura comes into the kitchen.
We have to go, she says.
I call home and soon after Rainer is out front in his taxi. He puts all the luggage in the trunk and holds open the door for Noura. Jameelah and I crawl into the backseat.
Have you been to the new airport yet, asks Rainer adjusting the rearview mirror, it’s the biggest construction site in Europe.
No, says Noura with a tired smile.
I look out the window. Birds fly past in the sky, I tap Jameelah and point to them.
Cranes, she says with an expert’s eye, cranes and back there, she points out the back window, those are swallows.
You can see the airport from a long way off.
Wonder if they’ll ever finish, says Rainer shaking his head. He steers the car into the turning circle and pulls to a stop in front of the main building. He gets out and unloads the bags.
Thanks very much for the ride, says Noura handing Rainer money.
No, says Rainer, it’s on me, put it back in your pocket. Who knows when you might need it.
No, says Noura, I insist.
I won’t have it, says Rainer.
In that case we’ll give it to the children, says Noura and hands the money to me before picking up the bags.
Auf wiedersehen and thanks again.
My pleasure, says Rainer and then he sits back down at the wheel.
Wait for me here, I call to him and walk into the airport building with Jameelah and Noura.
Noura looks at the clock.
We have plenty of time, she says, but it’s better to be early than too late. Are you hungry?
No, says Jameelah.
I look at the money in my hand and something occurs to me.
We have to do something, I say, just over there at the snack shop.
I’m not hungry, says Jameelah, are you deaf?
Come on, I say pulling her with me.
Large order of french fries please, nothing on them, I say holding out the money to the guy behind the counter.
What’s the story, says Jameelah.
I take the tray in my hand and walk over to one of the tables.
Potato party.
I don’t want to, says Jameelah.
I don’t either, I say sitting down, but then I eat a fry anyway, and then another and another.
Man leave a few for me, says Jameelah reaching for the fries.
Potato, I say, is actually an ugly word don’t you think, it sounds bad.
All words that begin with P are bad, says Jameelah with her mouth full, haven’t you ever noticed? Prison, priest, pacification, peril, pallbearer, pain.
True, pain, I say, and poison of course.
See, says Jameelah, potato is the same except that it’s not really bad it just sounds a bit ugly, like palpitation or puke.
We think of a lot more food items that begin with P, one after the next until the fries are gone. I order another round. A cheesy song from the eighties is playing over the speakers.
I hate that song, says Jameelah.
It’s my mother’s favourite song, I say.
Really?
Yeah, it’s what she listened to when she was around our age. Kind of makes you realize how old grown-ups are.
What do you mean?
Well he’s singing about being out in the streets until midnight and drinking seven beers. Like a grandfather.
Jameelah grins.
Staying up until midnight and drinking seven beers, even I could manage that.
And Nico, if he has the next day off he can drink a whole case of beer in a night.
Have you guys talked, asks Jameelah.
Only for a second but not about the whole thing.
Why don’t you guys make up?
No idea. Maybe I will.
Yeah, says Jameelah, you should.
Did you ever see Lukas again?
No, she says, and I don’t want to. I did hear that Anna-Lena really is going to that boarding school.
We really need to get revenge on Lukas somehow, I say but Jameelah shakes her head.
I don’t want to get revenge, revenge is the most disgusting thing in the world. If there was no revenge then Abu and Youssef wouldn’t be dead and we would never have come to Germany and I would never have to get deported.
Fuck Germany, I say, what kind of country just sends people away.
Stop, says Jameelah, there are so many good things about Germany.
Like what?
I don’t know, there’s a million.
See, you can’t think of a single one.
Yes I can. Like the fact that there’s always water out front of stores in the summer so dogs can have a drink.
You’re crazy.
Seriously, says Jameelah, normal stuff like that, something so idiotically normal like having water out for dogs, that’s exactly what life is made of.
She looks at the clock.
I have to go.
We go back. Noura is waiting in front of the departures screen.
Come here my little one, she says bending down to me.
I’ll come visit you, I say.
You don’t have any money, says Jameelah.
I will, I’ll deliver newspapers or something and then I’ll come visit. For Christmas break. It’s warmer in Iraq than here then, and it’s sunny there in winter too right?
Noura smiles.
In winter it’s even colder where we’ll be living than it is here, you can ski there.
But in summer, I say, it’s sunny then right?
Noura runs her hand over my head.
Yes, she says, but where we’ll be living the moon is the sun.
Bye, says Jameelah.
Bye, I say.
We hug each other and then Noura and Jameelah go through security.
I’ll come visit, I call, whether there’s snow, sun, or moonlight, I swear I’ll come visit.
Jameelah turns around and raises her little finger.
Pinky swear?
Pinky swear, I call and raise my finger.
Rainer is sitting in the driver’s seat reading the paper. He starts the engine when he sees me. I slide into the backseat.
Don’t be sad, he says turning around to me, all good things must come to an end.
Leave me alone, I say but Rainer won’t let it go, he says, come on I’ll drive you around a bit and you can take in the pretty sites, the Reichstag and Friedrichstrasse.
No just drive me here, I say handing Rainer the piece of paper with Amir’s address on it.
In that disgusting part of town?
Like we live any better, I say.
That’s enough of that, says Rainer.
Drive me there, I say, or I’m getting out of the car and I’ll take the train.
Fine, fine, says Rainer putting on the radio.
My eyes are burning. I don’t want to cry, not in front of Rainer, I fold up the piece of paper with Amir’s address, folding it smaller and smaller, I press it together as hard as I can and it helps. When I was younger and I skinned my knee at the playground or whatever, Mama always said it’ll be healed long before you get married. Skinned knees and jammed thumbs might heal but nothing else does, nothing on this rotten earth heals. I think I hate Mama and I hate Papa too, much more than Mama, Rainer I don’t care about and you can’t hate someone you don’t even care about.
Rainer turns up the radio. ‘When Will The Clouds Part’ is playing but it’s not the normal version with the normal verses, in this version people answer the question what does happiness mean to you and then in between the singer sings, she sings when will the clouds part and then someone else starts talking about happiness and how they define it. They say stuff like happiness is being free or happiness is never losing laughter, having fun in life, they say happiness is having someone who loves me, or it’s wanting to hold onto a moment.
Man how Jameelah and I always hated this song. We hated it because we thought it was stupid to think back on moments in your life that you wish you could hold onto because moments like that somehow never happen, at least not moments like the ones in the song.
The day we first drank Tiger Milk, that was a good moment, when we started using O-language and started going to Kurfürsten, those were good moments too. It’s funny, but I can remember all sorts of things from my childhood now but the things that happened just a few years ago, as we started to become adults, I can barely remember those things. Drinking Tiger Milk and going to Kurfürsten, those were good moments but I have no idea who came up with the idea, no idea why we decided to wear the striped stockings, I don’t have the slightest idea when it became a game or which one of us came up with the recipe for Tiger Milk. I don’t know when and why we started to speak O-language, I don’t know why we ended up on Kurfürsten of all streets and with the men there, I don’t know any of that, I just know that we always thought nothing would ever go wrong, nothing would happen, as long as we didn’t go anywhere alone, never alone.
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