Table of Contents Table of Contents
Previous Page  97 / 238 Next Page
Show Menu
Previous Page 97 / 238 Next Page
Page Background


at them. I want to be in the kitchen, in the corner, on my

tiptoes, looking at the yard through the window. I want to

sing. Karlo grabs my hand. Slowly, slowly, Ballerina, he

says. Mama is here, too. You’ll catch a cold, she says and

buttons up my coat and the butterflies on my dress are

covered again.

Again, houses are running past and people. Mama says I

mustn’t catch a cold because when I have a cold I don’t

sleep at night and I can’t dream. That I break things then, if

I don’t sleep, that I pull everything out of the closet and

throw it out into the yard and they have to shut me in the

pantry then, even at night, like they did with grandad

Nono, who is now in heaven. They shut him in the pantry,

too, says Mama. I mustn’t catch a cold. And if you don’t

calm down in the pantry, you have to go to Elizabeta’s

because I get so tired, Mama says. And if I can’t stay at

Elizabeta’s those gentlemen in the car come and take me to

hospital, Mama says. I know that. I see them. They stop in

the door and smile. Then I go with them. And then, when

they bring me back, Mama sings, I know she sings, because

I can hear her, even there, where they take me. I hear her

voice and I think she’s there somewhere in the hall or the

pantry, singing. Mama shuts herself in the pantry when

they take me away, I know. I can see her shutting herself in

there. I look into the kitchen from the yard and I see her.

First she cries. When I’m shut away, I hear her sing, too.