Tiger Milk (21 page)

So, says the nurse walking around the bed and fluffing the covers, we’ll see if the anaesthesiologist has time to meet with you.

I look over at the other bed again.

What happened, I ask.

The nurse sighs.

Nylons. Matches and nylons. She’s still very weak. She was in intensive care until yesterday.

She goes to the door and her nurse shoes clop on the floor like my flip-flops, just healthier. As I unpack my things and stow them in the drawer of the nightstand I feel pretty grown-up, in a different way from on Kurfürsten. I look over at the girl. Her wounds are yellow and red, the scabs are spiky and saw-toothed and in between are big black spots. Hospitals are something serious, you don’t mess around, and that’s good because everyone here knows not to mess around. I stretch out on the bed and wonder to myself whether anyone has ever died in this room or even right here in this bed. It wouldn’t be so bad, with a view of the park, the sun shining in your face, there are worse ways to die. People who say hospitals are creepy places really don’t have a clue, it’s such a throwaway thing to say. I mean sure, this isn’t a playground, but anyone who seriously thinks it would be nicer to die at a playground than here must have lost their chador.

There’s a knock at the door.

Come in, I say.

It’s Jameelah.

Salam! What is this the Four Seasons, she says letting herself drop onto the bed next to me, couldn’t wait to check in, could you?

I put my arms behind my head and smile.

It’s almost as nice as Italy, I say.

Wait until you see the food, it’s usually crap, says Jameelah and then she looks over at the other bed.

What happened to her, she whispers.

Nylons, I say, and matches.

Really?

There’s another knock at the door. Three doctors in white lab coats come into the room. You can tell which one is the boss right away. He’s the tallest, looks great, and he walks ahead of the others.

Guten Tag, he says smiling, I’m Doctor Berkenkamp, I’ll make sure that you are fast asleep before the operation tomorrow. We’ll give you a shot and then send you off to a beautiful island, what do you think?

Sounds good, I say.

He sits down on the bed next to me. His eyes are deep blue like Tarik’s.

Can I come to the island too, asks Jameelah flopping into the wicker chair next to the window.

The lead doctor laughs. He gently feels my neck with his cool fingers. He taps on my cheekbones and asks if it hurts and then he looks down my throat.

Which would you prefer, Greece or Italy, he asks tossing the tongue depressor into the bin next to my nightstand.

Italy.

Good, in that case we will send you to a beautiful island off the cost of Italy.

Fine with me, I say, but the important thing is the anaesthesia.

Don’t want to have to wake you like Sleeping Beauty, says the lead doctor pinching my cheek, his hands smell like expensive cologne and I think that it wouldn’t be so bad if he woke me like Sleeping Beauty.

The next morning a nurse wakes me. She rolls me down the hall in my bed to the lift. We go down to the basement, past fluorescent lights and through some thick glass doors that swing open and then the lead doctor is there. I recognize his blue eyes even though the rest of his face is covered.

We’re off to Capri, he says putting a needle in my arm and attaching it to a long hose but after that there’s nothing, no Capri, nothing at all.

I wake up slowly. Mama and Jessi are sitting at the table next to the window. Jessi is playing with her rubber hand clackers and Mama is looking out at the park and the first thing that comes into my head is what Mama would have answered, Italy or Greece.

Nini, calls Jessi jumping up and sitting at the end of the bed, you look like a Chinese mental patient.

So do you, I say. It hurts a lot to talk. The stitches in my jaw hurt.

How do you feel, asks Mama.

Okay.

Mama looks at the time.

We have to go, she says and kisses me goodbye on my forehead, you slept for such a long time.

It’s fine, I say and fall back to sleep.

I only wake up again when a nurse pushes a trolley in with two trays on it. On one is normal food, on the other one, the one the nurse puts down on my nightstand with a smile, is a plastic container filled with puree, it looks like diarrhoea with a straw in it. I start grumpily slurping.

Come on another bite, says the nurse to the burned girl holding a piece of bratwurst under her nose, but when she turns her head away again the nurse gives up. As she goes to the door Jameelah comes in.

She grins at my container of diarrhoea.

Tasty?

Ha ha.

I told you.

She gets a great meal and doesn’t even touch it, I whisper nodding at the burned girl.

She must have private health insurance.

I’m hungry.

Go ahead and take hers, says Jameelah.

Very funny.

What, are you scared, she says walking over to the other bed.

Hello, she says, your food is getting cold, hello, she repeats waving her hands in front of the burned girl’s face. I can’t help giggling.

Well then, as long as you don’t give a shot, Jameelah says grabbing the tray and sitting back down next to me.

Give me some, I say but Jameelah shakes her head and shoves another delicious looking piece of wurst into her gullet.

You were too scared to take it, so enjoy your diarrhoea.

Come on just a piece of bratwurst.

Man you’re not supposed to eat any solid food with those stitches in your mouth, they’ll pop and then it’ll be a huge mess.

Then mosh up a piece for me.

Mosh for mash, that’s good. But don’t give a shot wasn’t bad either, eh?

Give me a piece.

I’m going to call the nurse if you take any, says Jameelah putting her hand on the red call button next to my bed.

Blackmailer, I say.

The squeaking sound of the food trolley wakes me. A sweet guy in white clothes walks in.

Sorry for the delay, he says picking up a tray with another container of diarrhoea. He looks at me, uncertain.

That’s for her, I say pointing at the burned girl.

Sorry I’m just filling in today, he says putting down a tray with a plate of spaghetti on it next to my bed. With the fork I cut up the spaghetti as small as possible and carefully start to eat it. It doesn’t hurt, or barely hurts, only when the stitches stretch. I go into the bathroom and look in the mirror. I’m slowly starting to look less and less like a Chinese mental patient, more like a hamster with a fat lip, or somebody with two super balls in their mouth who refuses to spit them out. When I return to the room Nico is sitting on my bed.

Hi cutie, he says.

I can feel my face flush with happiness.

Don’t say anything, I say, I already know that I look like a Chinese mental patient.

Why Chinese?

That’s what Jessi said because the swelling went all the way up to my eyes. But it’s a bit better now.

Nico stands up.

Are you allowed to be kissed, he asks and kisses me on the mouth before waiting for an answer.

Careful, I say, everything’s still swollen.

I’m being careful, he says and kisses me again.

Do you have any smokes, I ask.

Are you allowed to smoke already?

Don’t give me that.

He hands me a cigarette begrudgingly.

We go downstairs and out to the park. The cigarette gives me a rush and my eyes go black for a second but I like it when you get dizzy from smoking, the curtain comes down, the curtain goes back up again and in a few seconds it’s all over, like a passing cloud casting a shadow.

I wanted to come yesterday, says Nico, but I wasn’t sure when the visiting hours were, whether it was too late to stop by in the evening.

No problem, I say taking a drag.

So are you bored?

I shake my head.

Somebody died here today.

Crazy.

Yeah but luckily I didn’t see anything, I say, I just heard about it. Morbid. Have you ever seen a dead person?

Just my grandmother, says Nico.

And?

Wasn’t so bad. It was sad, but not disgusting. She was really old.

Death is weird, I say, don’t you think?

Yeah, says Nico, but at the end of the day death is something totally normal.

I don’t know, I say, that’s sounds like bullshit.

Why, says Nico, death is part of life.

See, that’s the same kind of bullshit. Everybody says shit like that. People talk about death like they talk about the weather but only because they’re scared shitless about it. That doesn’t fly with me.

Nico thinks for a minute.

But we all have to die sooner or later.

I ram my elbow into his ribs.

Yet another cliché.

Well there you go, in that case I’ll get in bed with you right now, says Nico grabbing my legs and slinging me over his shoulder. I squeal. Hanging upside-down on Nico’s back I see a nurse coming across the park toward us.

Visiting hours are over, she says tapping on her watch and looking at us sternly.

I was just about to leave, says Nico.

You were not, I say when the nurse leaves again.

What?

Leaving.

No?

No, I say taking his hand. Like thieves we slink through the park to the entrance and then up the stairs one floor after the next. I cautiously open the door to my room and pull Nico to the bed.

You’re crazy, he whispers nodding at the burned girl, what about her?

We’ll have to be quiet, I say and kiss him. We creep our way to the bed, kissing like our mouths are fused together, it’s nice but my cheeks hurt. I realize I’m dead tired but then I hear the clink of Nico’s belt and in the next instant his baggy trousers fall to his knees.

Carefully, as if it would make noise, Nico takes my t-shirt off, I don’t have a bra on so I quickly get under the covers even though it’s almost dark outside and it’s dark in the room already. His hard-on is sticking to my thigh.

Sorry, says Nico.

It’s okay, I say pulling down his boxers and then my underwear which rolls up as I push it down my legs, that would normally never happen, it’s just because I’m rushing, and why really, I wonder, and then as if Nico can read my thoughts he lies down next to me all calm and looks at me.

Don’t say anything like are you sure you really want this, I whisper.

I wasn’t going to say that, Nico whispers back.

I stand up, grab my wallet and disappear into the bathroom and rummage around for the condom that I’ve been carrying around all this time for just this moment, the same way other people carry a treasured family photo in their wallet all the time. All the condoms Jameelah and I have ripped open, at first by ourselves in her room and then taking them to the bathroom to fill with water and dropping them on people from the window, then later unrolling condoms over cucumbers and Barbie dolls, and then all the stuff on Kurfürsten started. I look at the expiration date and then toss the condom in the toilet. Even if it wasn’t already expired, I think, condoms are for kids and hookers and I’m neither one of those.

I creep back into bed with Nico. I lie down on my back so Nico can get on top of me, I don’t think we’re going to try it any other way on our first time.

Quietly, I whisper before he starts.

This time I’m aware of everything because I’m not as fucked up as last time. This time it hurts bad, like getting poked but at the same time also like when you pinch yourself in a door or something. The purple spiral staircase is there again, I forgot to ask Jameelah why I see that when I sleep with someone. Maybe it’s the staircase that leads out of childhood. The real world is up there, or the fake one, or the rotten one, it hurts in any event. Without wanting to, I bite down and press my teeth together and the pain from below mixes with the pain in my mouth, somehow it’s nice though, no idea why, it sounds stupid but it’s true. Maybe it’s the kind of pain Rainer’s always gabbing on about when he shows us his pitiful tattoo for the hundredth time, and I have to think of the guy in the wheelchair and what he said about violence, only now do I really understand what it was he was trying to tell us. The guy in the wheelchair is right. Violence isn’t about the pain itself but the intent to cause pain, it’s when somebody wants to inflict pain on you. The guy in the wheelchair wasn’t so stupid after all, and the fact that he wasn’t so stupid is a comforting thought to me.

I bleed, this time I bleed so much that I completely mess up the sheets. Nico is appalled.

It’s normal, I say.

I know, he says, but still.

Give me a hand, I say.

Together we strip the bed and I stuff the sheets into the bottom drawer of the cabinet. We creep back into bed. Nico snuggles up to me. I hear a siren outside as a fire truck drives past on Argentinischen Allee.

I’m supposed to say hello to you from Amir by the way, says Nico.

What, I say sitting up, you went there again?

No I called him.

Called him? How did you get his number? I want to call him too.

You can.

I jump out of bed.

Not right now, says Nico, it’s already too late.

Why, I’m sure Amir’s not asleep yet.

Get back in here, whispers Nico pulling me gently back onto the bed, you can only call during certain times. We can call tomorrow. Besides, I have something for you.

For me? What is it?

Only if you settle down.

Fine, I say letting myself fall back onto the pillow.

Nico gets up and looks in his trouser pocket and then hides something in his hand. I can’t help smiling.

I saw it, I say.

No you didn’t, says Nico.

You’re right, I didn’t.

Close your eyes, he says fumbling around with my fingers.

Out of nowhere my heart starts beating like crazy.

Now, he says.

I open my eyes and look at my hand. On it is the ring, Jasna’s ring, Mama’s ring, Papa’s ring, three stones, two little white ones and a green one between them.

I know, maybe it’s a bit over the top, says Nico, but do you like it anyway?