There was a knock on the metal door of the trailer.
Stray dogs, Almira thought. She looked at the sleeping girl on the bed, her nightgown spread out. The girl seemed content.
There was a knock again, but this time she heard Rika’s voice. “Open up. I need your help.”
Rika was at the door, holding a boy. A Romani man, quite young, stood beside him holding three trumpets.
“We found him by the monument asleep,” Rika said, carrying the boy inside.
Almira pointed to the mat on the floor.
Rika lay the boy on the mat and said, “We couldn’t wake him up. He’s very sick. Touch his forehead. He’s burning up with fever.”
I’ll make my mother’s remedy for fever with potatoes and vinegar, she thought. It works every time. She felt his forehead. He has a high fever, very high.
“Here,” she said aloud, throwing some clean clothes on the blanket. “Take off his wet clothes.”
“Who is that?” Rika asked.
“I found her in the bar while getting the water for cooking. The girl was singing there. She ran away from home and was being harassed by the drunkards.”
“What are we going to do with her?” asked Rika, raising his voice.
“That’s my brother!” Saida shouted, waking up. “How did he get here?”
She got up off the bed and knelt beside Nikola, touching his forehead.
“Your brother?” Almira said.
“Yes, my brother,” confirmed Saida.
“Beautiful!” screamed Rika. “Until yesterday, I was just an ordinary man travelling around with his girlfriend in a trailer, making extra cash in entertainment parks. Now I have a young boy burning up in fever . . . and his sister too!”
“Rika, calm down. We have to help her out. She won’t stay with us forever. And who is that young man holding the trumpets?” she asked.
“That’s Tobar. I met him in Guča. He lent Nikola a trumpet. He helped me carry the sick boy. And what’s your story?” he asked Saida. “Tell me the truth.”
“I had a fight with my grandmother and ran away,” Saida said. “I came here with my best friend, who had just got married. I figured I could get a job here. But they had a big fight. My friend ran off. Her new husband got drunk and tried to kiss me. When I refused, he pushed me out of the caravan. I got a job singing at the bar where I met Almira.”
“I’ll put potatoes and vinegar in his socks and rub his back with brandy,” Almira said. “We can take him to the doctor tomorrow, or get some aspirin in the pharmacy.”
“Nonsense,” Rika said. “What is the doctor going to do? They don’t know anything. And when they see Roma, they don’t care.”
“I know what you think about doctors, but he’s very sick,” Almira said.
Then she lay down to sleep, trying to find warmth under the blankets.
The first crowing of roosters cut the silence as the dawn broke. The men were snoring through Nikola’s feverish breathing.
Almira fell back to sleep and when she awoke, sunlight was shining brightly through the blinds. She got up and woke Saida. The young man with the trumpets was gone, Rika with him.
Saida got up and knelt beside her brother. Her eyes were red and swollen.
Almira leaned over him. “I can’t hear his breathing. What if he died?”
Almira’s mother died when she was ten. She had sat for hours by her father’s side during the funeral, her mother’s body lying there so still, surrounded by flowers, their scent infusing the air. When it was time to close the coffin, Almira caught a glimpse of her mother’s face and fainted. Someone rubbed her nose with a handkerchief soaked in vinegar. Since that day, the smell of vinegar reminded her of death.
Saida leaned over and touched the boy’s head. “His fever’s down.”
Almira looked over at the boy. Relieved, she touched his forehead. “Yes. His fever’s gone.”
“Almira, you helped him recover.” Saida’s voice sounded different than before.
“I didn’t do anything. He just got better.”
“Where are those two men from last night?”
“They went to the festival,” Almira answered. “They will play trumpet and earn some money.”
“When I ran away from home, I took my grandfather’s trumpet with me. I thought it was worth a lot of money. But when I offered it to the waitress in that bar she gave me only ten dinars.”
“It’s probably worth a lot more than that! A trumpet is an expensive instrument, and it should mean a lot to you as it belonged to your grandfather.”
“I can’t forgive myself. I wish I could get it back.”
“I can lend you the ten dinars to buy it back from her,” Almira said, handing her a note.
“What if she doesn’t want to sell it?”
“She will.”
“What if she asks for more money?”
“You can bargain. Here are a couple of coins, in case she asks for a bit more than you paid.”
They headed to the bar, leaving Nikola fast asleep in the trailer.
The door to the bar was wide open, so they walked right in. There were no customers this early in the morning. Folk music blared from the radio. The place had a heavy smell of stale food, smoke and sweat.
That same blonde waitress stood behind the bar drying the dishes. She had on fresh make-up and wore white imitation pearls around her neck.
“Ohoo!” the waitress exclaimed when Saida and Almira came in. “The bird didn’t fly very far. Listen, I want to make it clear right away. I don’t have anything for you. Your voice is good, but you are young and inexperienced to properly entertain the guests. I can give you a piece of advice. Stick with your own people.”
“I didn’t come to ask for food or a job.”
“Why did you come then?”
“To get my trumpet back.”
“To get the trumpet back?” The waitress repeated Saida’s words. “I paid you for it.”
She returned to the dishes as if the topic didn’t deserve any further discussion.
“I want to buy it back from you,” Saida said. “I have the money.”
The waitress laughed mockingly.
“Please! That trumpet was my grandfather’s, and I promised it to my brother. I made a mistake in selling it to you.”
The waitress’s face turned softer and more friendly.
“How much do you offer?”
“Seven dinars.”
“Are you crazy? I paid you ten for it. I’ll tell you what. I’ll sell it to you for eleven dinars.”
Saida pulled eleven dinars from her pocket and handed them to the waitress.
The waitress pointed to a shelf next to the men’s washroom. “It’s over there. I’m glad to get rid of it anyway.”
Saida grabbed the trumpet off the shelf, gagging on the heavy odour of mould and urine. She wiped the trumpet with her scarf, in a hurry to leave and never return to that place again.