The Blue Taxi Read Online Free Page B

The Blue Taxi
Book: The Blue Taxi Read Online Free
Author: N. S. Köenings
Pages:
Go to
her jaw. Had he, perhaps, died? She didn’t ask these things out loud, but Nisreen understood.
    Because she was obedient and responsive above all, before thinking to be careful, Nisreen answered Sarie’s question. “He’s
     at home,” she said. The boy had been released. “He’s going to be all right.” Resting one long finger on a page of the reception
     book, where coordinates were noted, she read Sarie the address, and Sarie, on a weathered scrap of paper she had slipped from
     Gilbert’s special drawer, wrote the following down:
Tahir. Majid. Ghulam. Jeevanjee. 10 yrs. Fthr. M. G. Jvnjee. Kudra House. Flr. 2
.
    Feeling pleasantly accomplished, Nisreen closed the book and slid it gently back onto its shelf But, watching Sarie fold her
     piece of paper, it occurred to her, a little late as usual, that she now felt some doubt. Should she have done what she just
     had? Should she not have asked more questions? Gotten
her
address? Nisreen stood silently and wavered. Biting at the inside of her cheek, she looked across the tiles to the bright
     doorway, thinking. Sarie had zipped up her yellow purse and was about to go, but, seeing the receptionist so quiet, she felt
     suddenly uncertain that the interview had ended. In Nisreen’s heavy glasses, a pane of street appeared: a small transparent
     man pulled a cart behind him; a gleaming Fiat swerved. Sarie wondered briefly how well Nisreen saw. Ought she call her daughter
     and go on with her mission, wave thank-you from the door?
    Here’s what was at work: while dutiful Nisreen most often did exactly what was asked of her without skipping a beat, she was
     also sometimes moved by a desire to step in, to let on what she knew. And Nisreen, on second thought, was not convinced that
     visiting the boy would be a good idea. But what was she to say? She gave Sarie a look designed to make her pause. Just as,
     in Northern lands, many Europeans do when speaking to a foreigner, Nisreen enunciated clearly: “You are sure you want to visit?
     You are certain you’re quite sure?” Nisreen’s voice was gentle; she felt torn. Visits to the sick were right, of course. Nisreen
     conducted many on her own. But this! A European with a child, and the Majid Ghulam Jeevanjees. Well, this was something different.
     Should she say? Should she not? If she did,
how
would she? Fingering the glossy desk, Nisreen hesitated, almost spoke, then gulped. Expectant, Sarie frowned.
    Nisreen tapped the counter twice with her long thumbs. She thought:
An Englishwoman, after all. I shouldn’t even care
. English-women were well known for doing as they pleased. But Nisreenalso thought:
A woman, with a child
. Nisreen cared for children. She leaned away from Sarie, put weight on her good leg, and touched her stomach briefly. What
     if something happened to the girl? She looked back up at Sarie. “Well.” Nisreen pressed her lips together. “What if Well.”
     Shyness was a struggle. Nisreen took a breath. “Perhaps the boy needs rest.”
    Nisreen’s soft suggestion, coming after such a pause, caused Sarie to stiffen. Gilbert’s croons came crouching in her ear.
     Perhaps she shouldn’t go. What if Gilbert was correct? Perhaps she would, as he had said, be
well out of her depth
. Perhaps this girl was thinking, just as Gilbert had, about the Muslim boy, the father, these very Jeevanjees, the mistakes
     Sarie might make. Something like
No good can come of it, my dear
. Off keel and embarrassed, Sarie stepped away. She thought of sleeping dogs, and blankets, almost said, “Yes, let the sick
     child rest. You’re right. I will not go today.” But she also thought of Agatha. They, not Gilbert, and not this narrow girl,
     had been witness to a thing far greater than themselves.
They
, not she, had recovered gracefully at Hisham’s Food and Drink. Sarie turned around. Agatha, enthralled by the framed pictures
     and the cool clinic’s smooth walls, as usual seemed calm. Her dangling feet were still.

Readers choose