CHRIS
Elizabeth and Ivana are keeping track of me. It's true I'm their friend first and only got to know Jamie because they're all roommates. But now I'm sitting and talking with Jamie, while Elizabeth in particular is trying to act like she's not watching me. That's cool. That's just the way it is here, just like everywhere else.
Jamie downs another shot of tequila. I take a sip of my Coke. She leans over and says, "Hey, do you think I could crash on your floor tonight? I just don't want to go home and you know, deal with it." I say sure, because I don't want to deal with it, you know, the process of coming up with an excuse to say no. I've known what was going on tonight since we got on the tram to come here, Jamie and I. As the tram lurched into motion, Jamie lurched into me. Maybe if it had been real, if it had been natural or accidental, I could have accepted it. Maybe I would have even enjoyed it. But it was counterfeit.
I go to the toilet. Even if you only drink six Cokes all night long (people who are drinking like company, whether or not you are really with them), you still have to pee, just like everyone else. If you are unaccustomed to drinking six Cokes, you can get a pretty nasty caffeine stomach from it. I'm a veteran, I know to put a little something in there beforehand. As I'm standing there letting it go, I think, I have to survive this and forgive her. Because one day, I'll be her, and I'll be wanting forgiveness from the poor girl who has to deal with me. For a second I actually believe I've got it all figured out. I flush, and go back.
When we get around to leaving, I can see Elizabeth watch us say our divided good-byes and meet at the door. It's pretty obvious we're going home together. The nods, winks and whispers already flash all around me. I don't care if there are forty thousand Americans here right now, I am sure I know every damned one of them. We start walking. It's three thirty in the morning, the metro stopped for the night long ago, but I've learned my way around enough to be able to get home. Been here six months, Jamie's been here for 3 years, and I'm the one leading.
Jamie starts to trot every once in a while, to catch up to me. I slow down thinking I'm going too fast. But it makes no difference. Jamie seems to like falling back, trotting to catch up, taking a few steps ahead and waiting for me, then falling behind again. She says to me, "You know, it's weird. My last four boyfriends have decided to get married right after they dated me. Why would anyone want to get married?" She skips ahead, and I wonder if she knows that I was married. You never know how much people know, friends of friends, roommates of friends, sometimes even friends. Even without getting all twisted in on myself, I know what she's saying. She doesn't know how well I understand what she's saying. If she did, she wouldn't say a word.
We finally get to the night tram stop. I check to make sure I'm at the right one. Jamie's playing hopscotch over the painted yellow lines on the sidewalk. As I come over to tell her that I'm right and how lucky she is to be my disciple, a guy dressed in nothing more than a tank top and denim cutoffs comes up. I'm thinking he's some beggar or maybe a harmless drunk, because who else is up at this hour, who else is standing at the tram stop, who else is wearing a tank top, denim cutoffs and sneakers with no socks? He says, "Careful there, Jamie. You wouldn't want to attract the attention of strangers at this time of the evening."
Jamie runs over and hugs him. I assume they know each other.
"This is Chris."
Chris starts in. "I just traded a prostitute an orange for this cigarette. I don't smoke. I was taking the piss out of the prostitutes, they saw I was holding an orange and they wanted it. But I don't give away anything for nothing, not even to prostitutes." Jamie puts her coat on him. She has an extra and he looks really cold. Happy, crazy and cold.
"No, I can't take this from you. I have to ride the 51 and it'll be here any minute. I shouldn't take it from you."
Jamie looks at me. I answer, "We're taking the 51 as well."
That settles it. Jamie starts telling Chris the whole Elizabeth and Ivana story. They have talked about this before. He says, "I was just at this club and one of my friends let me down. He has a girlfriend, and he was leaving with this other girl and I says to him, 'Man, you are letting me down.' Maybe that's why I'm smoking."
The tram comes. We all three of us get on together. Jamie sits on one side. Chris sits on the other, and to make my intentions known, I sit by Chris. He starts.
"So, Jamie, who's this bloke? The boy for the night? That's the way it works, isn't it? Woman picks up a young man, takes him home. Man picks up a young woman, takes her home. Doesn't happen to me anymore. I'm not interested in taking young girls home and no one tries to take me home. I guess I'm not new here. Doesn't happen to me anymore." He looks at me. "I wonder what's next?"
He grins at me, turns to Jamie. At the next stop, he gets up, runs off the tram, and before the doors can close he's back on again. "Shit, I need to take a piss, but it's too quick. Done it before, but this bloke's too quick." He comes back over and sits down, this time by Jamie.
Jamie tries the Elizabeth and Ivana stuff again. This time, it hits. Chris has all the answers.
"Sounds to me like your problem is not with Ivana, but with Elizabeth. Ivana has the same problem with Elizabeth you do. With Elizabeth, you gotta say 'Fuck off. I've had enough of you.' Elizabeth's weapon is that you don't want to do that. But you have to. She intimidates you into doing whatever she wants you to do. She's weak and tries to have power over you but you can't let her have it. I had this girl's tongue in my mouth tonight for like twenty minutes, we were really getting into it, then I go to the bar for a minute and I come back, and she's with my friend. My friend has already got a girlfriend and here he's ready to take this one home. I mean, I'm not mad because I wanted to take her home, I did, but that's not what I'm on about. He already has a girlfriend."
I'm looking out the window. I'm watching the river go by. I don't want to be involved in this conversation. I don't even want to hear it. But I keep listening and watching the river go by. Such a beautiful place in the dark. This is Prague.
Jamie continues, "I think I finally got through to Ivana. I was in the bathroom, and she came in. She asked me what was up and I couldn't hold back. I told her. I told her that the place was mine. Before she and Elizabeth moved in and took over. They're like a couple of squatters, you know, move right in and take over the whole place. I come home and Elizabeth points to a little piece of foam rubber and she says to me, 'You can sleep there.' Elizabeth is always there. She never leaves."
Chris chimes in. "That's what I'm saying. It's Elizabeth. She's the one."
"Right, well, I told Ivana and she understood. She said I should've said something earlier, not that she could do anything about it. She knows she can't control Elizabeth either, and she's sort of pissed that she gets grouped with Elizabeth all the time. Everyone is always saying Elizabeth and Ivana. Like they're a couple. Ivana hugged me, and we cried. Then this other girl came in and stopped right at the door, like we were dykes or something."
"This married girl I was in love with, she was bi. A regular flip-flop. But she's gone now. She just left. We were in love; you know what I'm saying? You know what that means? She loved me. We had the greatest sex. I'm telling you. There is no way her husband could love her like I did. She knew that. We would have it in all sorts of positions, from the front, from behind. Ah, she had a beautiful ass. I loved her ass. From the front, from behind, upside down, it was beautiful. It was love. One day she's just gone. Didn't even tell me. Just left. With him, I suppose. The simple fact that she didn't tell me proves it. She loved me. She loves me to this day. That's real love."
We're climbing the hill toward the castle, slowly. I'm watching the Herna crowd on the street, so many red faces. Red faces and crazy sad eyes, eyes that no longer have the ability to mask anything, eyes that are stripped bare. The tram stops. The doors open.
I can feel Jamie looking at me. "Chris, I don't know if everyone on here wants to hear about your exploits."
"Everyone loves love. Real love. I think everyone wants to hear about real love."
"They might not want to hear about 'from behind, from the front,' you know, these people only act like they can't speak English. Every single person here understands what you are saying." Jamie looks around at the handful of people on the tram. One old woman has fallen asleep with her plastic bag on her lap and her ankles crossed.
"So, Jamie, I've known you for a long time. Why didn't we ever get together?" Chris speaks more softly now, just quiet enough for me to hear. "Because we're friends, Chris. Remember?"
"Friends fuck all the time. Why not us? I'd take care of you. You don't think I'm cute?"
"You know why. Because I'm frigid." She laughs. "I thought you were bisexual."
"I'm sexual. But I'm more into love. Love is all there is in the end anyway. So, are you going to fuck this one? Tonight's boy?"
We're crossing over a bridge. There is no river this time, just train tracks. We're coming down the hill. We're almost home.
"So you think Elizabeth's the problem. I think you're right. Maybe I'll move out."
"That's exactly what she wants you to do." Chris is silent for a minute. I'm desperately trying not to listen, but I hear that Chris is silent. I hear the sound of the brakes on the tram gently lowering us down the hill. The streetlights are orange. "That's exactly what she wants you to do."
The tram slides into the spot, our stop. My stop. I bring my eyes back into the car. I get up. Jamie is sitting on her hands. She looks up at me, "Is this it?"
"This is it," I smile at Chris.
Jamie looks at Chris. "This is it."
Chris stands up and starts to take off the coat. The sleeves are too short and the shoulders are pinched. Suits him. "Well, here then, you better take this," he says trying to peel himself out, "I don't know when I might see you again."
"No, Chris, you'll freeze. Keep it, you already have a bunch of my clothes. Keep it, really, I'll see you soon. Really."
Chris sits back down. The doors slide open. "Well, you kids have fun tonight." He smiles at me. We get off and Jamie turns back. The doors slide shut. Jamie waves to Chris and turns to cross the street. I wave to Chris. He points his chin to me twice, and a smile spreads on his face. I turn and cross the street.
My hands are pocketed. The streets are shining. I walk along looking down.
"He's something else."
"He's right," I say. "About most of it anyway."
"Yeah, probably."
We round the corner to my building. "This is it," I say. "Home."
"Home. Nice."
I click on the light switch in the entryway. It's on a timer. Time enough, walking at a thoughtful pace, to climb the stairs and click on the next switch, right by my door, to find my keys. I open the door. Jamie steps through.
"Wow. This place is huge. Is anyone here?"
"My roommates are out of town. I've lived here six weeks, and they've been here four, maybe five nights. Actors." Jamie kicks off her shoes without looking down, and socks through the whole place in the dark.
"This is all yours?"
"I have the two bedrooms, and we share the living room. The bathroom and the kitchen of course. Used to be some kind of Communist headquarters."
Jamie flops herself down in one of the chairs in the living room. In the dark. She's by the window and the orange street light glows through the lace curtains. I sit in the other chair, flip on a lamp. A car shushes by outside. "Can we have some music?" she asks.
"Sure." I get up and go into the smaller of my two bedrooms. I call it my studio. Full of the beginnings of projects, and the little stereo. I flip on the overhead light so I can find something appropriate, but not too appropriate. I put in the CD, but the player won't take it. I open the door. I close the door. Temperamental electronics, cheap but temperamental. "Damn thing."
"That's Jarrod's CD player, isn't it?"
"I bought it from him when he left. Didn't bother to tell me it was sorta fucked. We were roommates. But you know all that." I turn off the overhead, too revealing, and sit back down by the lamp. A guitar strums, PJ hums, a song called "Girl." Perfect. Perfect for me at least.
"Do you know her?" Jamie is looking at the tops of her fingernails, pushing her cuticles back. I continue, as if I know what I'm talking about. "PJ Harvey. Are you familiar?"
"This is her? I know the name but I never really knew any of her songs."
"This is her latest. I love it. You can almost hear what she's been through." I stop, listen. But I can't hold myself back. "That's what I like about her, the desperation. She's something like twenty-four years old and she's been through it all. Do you know her story?"
"No, tell me." Jamie has a confusing tone. Sometimes she asks questions but inflects them as if they were statements. And vice versa. She says Tell me, and it sounds more like Tell me
"Well, she had a boy and she moved in with him and they were together forever, you know, first love and all that. One day he just dumps her, just leaves and she has nothing, you know. Nothing at all. So she moves back in with her parents, totally crushed, and goes into a deep depression for like six months. Her first album was done during that time, from the very depths. You can hear the desperation in her voice, she has given up, she just doesn't even care. That's what sets her free. That's why she sounds so different. The shrieking and all that. Can you imagine being that guy, the guy that dumped her? I would love to be that guy." In fact, this is all just conjecture. That's what I do. I'm a storyteller. I make things up based on the little bit that I know and paint a pretty picture and I almost start to believe it myself. I guess it says something about me.
Jamie looks up. "Have you ever done that?"
"Done what?"
"Have you ever dumped someone like that? Just left? Have you ever been dumped? No, probably not. You wouldn't be laughing." Oops, sounds like I hit a nerve. I didn't mean to do that. I just wanted a quiet night at home. Alone.
I wait for her to continue, because she's going to continue, I have no choice. "That's what happened to me. That's why I'm here right now." She laughs. "I don't mean here here, I mean here Prague here." Okay. Here we go.
"We were a couple in high school. He was so fucking cute. We were just always together, always, since the beginning of time. Always. So after high school, I didn't even think about college. Moved straight in with him. He made good money, and we just lived, just like that. It was easy. It was good. At least I thought it was good. He called me one night, from work. He told me I couldn't live there anymore. He told me to move out. Just like that, over the phone. He told me to go home to my parents. The sad thing is that I listened. I put his ring on the kitchen table and I went home. My mom called him and bitched him out for like an hour. But that was it." She looks at me, and I meet her eyes. What else can I do, I mean, this is real. This is Jamie.
"What did you do?"
"Well, I went down into it. I didn't shower for weeks. I wore one pair of sweatpants. I never went outside. Four months or so. I cried until I couldn't cry anymore and then I just wandered around. Finally, I cleaned myself up and decided to go to beauty school. I learned how to cut hair. That was my big plan." She laughs. "And here I am."
"How'd you end up in Prague?"
"My father bought me a ticket to Europe. Set the whole thing up. Paid for me and my friend Suzy for a month. To bum around, you know, 'find myself.' We passed through Prague, and I told Suzy if I could find a job and a place to live in two days, I was going to stay. Only I did better. I found a boy. The rest is history." PJ is screeching now, so I level the remote and bump her down a notch. "Suzy flew home alone and my dad was happy." I yawn a big one, try to cover it up, but it makes me shiver all over.
"Would you like some tea?" I ask, remembering how to play host.
"No, thanks. I'm pretty tired."
"Yeah. Listen, you can have my room. I can give you a pair of shorts and a tee shirt. I can sleep in there," I point the remote into my dark studio. "Are you sure? I mean, I can just sleep on the floor." I smile at her. "Okay, okay," she says, "As long as you're sure."
I put out a pair of cotton shorts, and a tee shirt. I grab a pillow and a blanket.
"Okay, you're all set. Let me know if you need anything."
"I should splash my face."
I drop the bedding in the studio with PJ murmuring, and go into the kitchen for a glass of milk. It's that long-life milk, it has a funny taste, but I've grown to like it. My sleep placebo.
"Hey, Steve? Could you come here for a minute?" Jamie is standing in the bathroom in my shorts and my shirt, in the dark. She didn't bother to find the light. "Check this out, watch." She coughs a little bit and spits a black spot into the white sink. "See? It's blood."
I make the mistake of turning on the light. The dark spot is deep red, almost black. It's sliding down toward the drain.
"You aren't going to die on me, are you? I mean, do you want me to call the doctor? Do you feel okay?"
"I'm okay. Watch." She coughs up another black spot.
"I don't know. Has this ever happened to you before?"
"Not lately, no." She doesn't say more. "I'll sleep on it, check in the morning. I'll be okay. I don't feel anything."
"Okay. I guess. I mean, I don't know. Are you sure?" She's looking down into the sink. "All right, okay, I'm gonna sleep. Good night."
I lie down in the little bed in the studio, the music on low. The streetlights on both sides of the corner are looking in on me. I get up and close the green and blue floral curtains as best I can. I lie down on my side. I don't even know a doctor to call, I'm thinking, but I guess I could figure one out. I'm letting her sleep here, that's enough. At this point, even if I wanted to which I don't, sex is out of the question. I hear her cough and roll over. I can feel her pulling me in there, trying to anyway, but I have done enough. I turn over. No way. I hear her get up. I know exactly what she's up to. She pads in.
"Steve?"
"Hmm, yeah," feigning sleep, "What? What's up?"
"I don't want to bother you, I just wanted to say thanks." I turn towards her and she's standing there all blue and gray in the black, right above me.
"Hmm, sure. No problem."
"Good night." She's not leaving. She stands there. She turns. She leaves.
"Hmm, good night." PJ's husky whisper is soft now. My mind recedes.
Hannah is there with me, our heads at opposite ends of the couch. I can't believe it, I thought we would never be together again. She sits up and puts a hand lightly on my chest. Perfectly natural. She says to me, her mouth just slightly behind the words, "We are good together, aren't we?" I look into her almond eyes, I blink, squint ever so slightly, I smile and nod once, then again. "Yeah," she says. She lies back, she lies back and I can feel the tops of her shoulders with the tops of my feet, her long narrow back on my knees.
I wake up and the day is pushing its light underneath my curtain, around all the edges. The small room is stuffy and hot. I can feel the red marks on my skin from the coarse cover on this uncomfortable bed. I'm not going to be the first one up. They can wait for me at work. She has to leave first. I close my eyes again.
"Steve? You awake?" Jamie is standing on the threshold. She's dressed. "I'm going. Thanks again."
"Wait. Wait, I have to lock you out. I mean, I have to close the door behind you. You can't close it from the outside." I get to my feet, my hair hurting from being pushed around in all directions and my face is all pinched. I follow Jamie to the door.
Jamie steps through and turns toward me, from the other side. "All right, well, I'll see you."
"Yeah, for sure. Have fun." I close the door. Finally.
(originally appeared in the book Wallow (foolishness press, 1999))
Ekleksographia:
Wave Two
March, 2010
Fiction
Rick Pryll
Rick Pryll lived in Prague, Czech Republic, from 1997 to 2002. While there he published two books (Displaced, 1998, and Wallow, 1999). After winning MIT's 1991 Robert A. Boit Prize for Best Short Story ("Pathbeater"), Rick submitted a novella, Goliath, to satisfy the thesis requirement for his Bachelor of Science degree in Mechanical Engineering (1992). His hyperfiction short story "Lies" has been on the Web since 1993, receiving praise from the Wall Street Journal, The Gainesville Sun, and SHIFT magazine. Rick lives in Charlotte, North Carolina with his wife and two children.