CHAPTER 13 - Coincidences

CLASSES at Elvis resumed on the third. I still had my regular evening classes twice a week and, thankfully, Priscilla kept providing me with those morning substitutions. They were great. The students loved me and my ‘activities’ because they were such a welcomed break from their normal and tedious grammar routines. And, even better, we would still go out for the occasional coffee or beer after I had finished substitute teaching them. I had Czech friends (Pavel and the Řepy crew were doing fine and kept in touch regularly), a job with money coming in, an inroad to the local expat community (I tried to go to ‘chess night’ as often as I could and soon discovered a local open-mike poetry night called ‘Beefstew’), and friends close at home (mostly Dan and Kim). What else did I need in life?
"Hey Paul, whaddya think of Czech women?" Reinhard started one night as we were sitting in the Dum’s TV room.
"Fucking gorgeous. Damn it, I need one!"
"Yeah, they sure are pretty." He lit a cigarette and took a puff. Reinhard, as usual, stunk of booze. "I have problems teachin’ sometimes cause they’re so darn pretty."
I wanted to reply, ‘You have problems teaching all the time,’ but "Where? At Elvis?" came out instead.
"Yeah."
"I hear you, Reinhard. I’ve got some hotties in my class too. One’s a little older – right down your alley – but she sure is a sweet one. Lea. Slovakian. And then this other nice young thing, Veronika. She’s just got that real innocent look on her face, but you know she’s not fooling anyone. You know what I mean?"
"Yeah," he paused. "They must be pretty." Interesting conversations weren’t Reinhard’s strong point. He unscrewed a flask, the one Pavel’s family had given him, that was sitting on the table and took a swig.
"What kind of classes you teach at Elvis, Reinhard?"
"Where? At Elvis?"
"Yes," I sighed.
"Well, I used ta have some business classes only. One-to-one stuff. But they just started me off teachin’ these here morning classes."
"Oh, the post-high school ones. Yeah, those are fun. I’ve substituted for a few. All young students. Great atmosphere."
"Yeah. Young... pretty students," he leaned back, took a drag from his cigarette, and slowly exhaled.
"Ha ha! I can’t blame you Reinhard! I’ve seen some of those students. The way they dress. The way they look. I’ve had trouble concentrating on my lessons sometimes too. How long have you been teaching this new class of yours?"
"’Bout a week now. Woo-wee! I’ll tell ya Paul! This one class has little pretties that’ll knock yer socks off... You wanna swig?"
"No thanks." I was drinking coffee. "Yeah. I substituted for one class like that before the Christmas break. There were four of them, all sitting on the same side of the classroom. Man! I ignored the other half of the students for an entire ninety minutes!"
Reinhard’s eyes lit up and his jaw dropped a bit, leaving his alcohol-coated mouth slightly open below his big, bulbous red nose. "Yeah... That sounds like my class!"
"Really? Might be. You never know. I can’t remember any of their names though. The one was brunette with a ponytail, I think. Then another brunette one, pretty tall and INCREDIBLE body. And the other two were blondes if I remember correctly. But the one blonde was, oh..."
"Yeah!" Reinhard sat up straight. "That’s my class! I can’t remember the names either. Damn Czech names tough as hell ta remember."
"Wow, that’s really cool. They were a great class. Real fun and all. And those girls... There was that one blonde though. Sat next to the window and under the Velvet Elvis. She wasn’t drop-dead gorgeous or anything, you know, but she just had this thing about her. Such a pure, innocent face. Just beautiful, man. You know who I’m talking about?"
"Yeah..." Reinhard leaned back again and took one long, last drag from his cigarette.
"Really? You remember her name?!"
"Naw," as he tossed the spent butt into the ashtray and stood up. "Alright then Paul, take care. I gotta... prepare... for my lesson tamorrow."
"Uh, yeah, Reinhard. See ya later." The bastard must have been hornier than a bull in heat. Our conversation probably jump-started his libido. I sure as hell knew it had jump-started mine. I’d finish my coffee and go prepare a lesson in my bedroom too.
A few minutes later, just as I was leaving, Kim appeared. "Hey Paul! How have you been? Haven’t seen you since New Year’s!"
"OK, okay. I had a great time. How about you?" We were both standing in the doorway.
"I’ll tell you later. Ha! Spent it here in the Dum. You know with who?"
"No. Who?"
"Guess," Kim loved playing this kind of trivial Trivial Pursuit.
"I have no idea, Kim. Just tell me."
"Herman, Reinhard, and your roommate! HA! Here in the TV room. I’ll tell you all about it. What are you doing tonight?"
"Nothing really. But I have two classes tomorrow so..."
"Come on," he interrupted. "There’s a new open-mike reading. Called ‘Poetry in the Twilight.’ I’m going tonight. It should be good. Come on. Let’s go."
"On a Wednesday? Will it be late?"
"No. I’m sure it won’t. Starts at eight o’clock. Maximum two or three hours long. Come on, it’ll be fun. Alright?"
"Yeah, sure," I conceded. I enjoyed hanging out with Kim. We always had a good time together. "So, I’ll meet you in here at quarter past seven and we can go together, okay?"
"Sure Paul, sounds great," he smiled.
"OK. See you then. I have to, um, go prepare some lessons now," and I walked away.

"Ha! So, basically, it was just me, two alcoholics, and a few other people with nothing else to do ringing in the New Year together!" Kim said as we walked down the stairs into the Železná Jazz Club. The club was right off of Prague’s Old Town Square and located in an old wine cellar.
"Let me guess," I remarked. "You guys drank together and searched for German porn on the TV, right?"
"Yeah, Paul! Had a great time!"
"Unbelievable. It seems like no matter what the occasion – Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year’s, or Thursday night – that’s how all the festivities end up!"
"Ha ha! Exactly! It’s great."
We saluted the barman and went into the stage room. It was practically empty. Kim apologized. Apparently, the open-mike didn’t start until eight-thirty. We took off our coats and sat down to drink a beer and wait.
"But you see, Paul..." Kim continued as he rested his guitar case against the table, "The thing is, no matter how many times we just sit in the TV room, drink, and talk, it’s always a great time!"
"I hear you, Kim. Honestly, it may sound a bit dull, but I suppose those guys, those characters, always make it a night worth remembering."
"Exactly!" Kim adjusted his seat and got more comfortable. "I’ve been all around. Tons of places. And, well, the Dum... HA! You’ve got Herman, always trying to get into fights. Reinhard, boring as hell. Your roommate, always polite even when Herman’s yelling at him. And then always a few Americans, Canadians, Brits, Aussies, and born-again Christians who stir things up a bit. It’s like a hostel party but every day!"
"Definitely," I couldn’t agree more with Kim. Some of the best, and most interesting, times I’ve ever had were spent in a hostel. Travelers from all over the world, without a care in the world, and discussing everything from multilateralism to which country has the best food.
As we drank our beer and continued discussing life at the Dum, more and more people started pouring into Železná. All of them expats and all of them eager to hear some poetry, prose, and live music.
"Hold on a sec, Kim. I think I know that guy."
"Who?" Kim turned his head.
"Holy Shit! That guy over there. With the blue coat. He just walked in with that girl. In-fuckin-credible. That’s... That’s Luke!"
"Who’s that?" Kim had noticed who I was talking about and was glancing back and forth between him and me.
"Luke was my old college roommate from Georgia. We lived together during my last year and a half. After that, I graduated, went back home to Philly, and we just, well... You know how it is. What the fuck is he doing here?!" I stood up. "Excuse me, Kim. I’ll be right back." I grabbed my beer and made my way over to the table where Luke was sitting.
He had his back to me and was talking.
I interrupted his conversation with the girl, "Luke?"
He turned around and his eyes lit up, "Holy Shit! Paul!"
"Wow! This is in-fuckin-credible!" Luke stood up and I hugged him hello. I pulled up a chair and sat down next to him. "This is incredible Luke. What the fuck are you doing here?"
"Me?! How ‘bout you?" he was just as shocked to see me there as I was to see him. "I just came here to check out this open-mike night," he continued in his Southern drawl. I had almost forgotten what it sounded like.
"No shit," good ol’ Luke, always taking questions a bit too literally. "Not here, in the jazz club, man. In fucking Prague!"
"Ahh, well, hell. Of course here in Prague!" and always trying to save face afterwards. "I tell you, I just decided to come on down here. Out of the blue. You know, travel a bit."
"Yeah, that’s great. But, I mean, out of all places. Prague?"
"Well, you know." Luke took a sip of his beer and winked at me, "I guess I may have heard from somewhere that you were having a grand ol’ time down here too. Can’t let you keep it all to yourself!"
So the bastard had followed me. I was glad he did. Good to see a friendly face from back home. "Ha ha! Incredible! How long have you been here?"
"Not too long now. ‘Bout two weeks. We came right after New Year’s."
"That’s great man. It’s great to see you. Amazing," I took out some tobacco and started rolling a cigarette. "And what are you doing here? I mean with work and all."
"I got a job teaching English. Charlotte here got one too."
"What? You too? Everyone I know teaches English! Don’t tell me, you work for Elvis, right?"
"Elvis? What are you talking about? The King? How the hell would I work for Elvis Presley?" He had that genuine look of confusion on his face. I knew it so well.
"Never mind, Luke. Never mind." I looked at his girlfriend. "So, who’s this?"
"This is my girlfriend, Charlotte. We been together for almost a year now. We decided to come over to Prague together."
"Hello Charlotte and welcome." I lifted up my glass, looked her in the eyes, and "Nazdraví!"
"Yep, nazdraví!" Charlotte responded. "So, y’all used to live together and all, right?"
"Yeah, only like a year and a half ago but it seems like forever. We had some great times, huh, Luke?" I winked at him and nudged him with my elbow. Then I turned back to Charlotte, "How did you know?"
"Oh, Luke told me all about you before we came here. He thought you might be living here. And the more we started talkin’ ‘bout you, I guess that’s sorta why we decided on Prague here."
"I tried writing you forever, Paul. Shit, you ever heard of checking your email?" Luke threw in.
It was true. I had simply forgotten about the Internet since I left Greece for the Czech Republic all those months ago. How many people must have tried to get in contact with me since then? And I simply had no idea. I could be so empty-headed and inconsiderate sometimes. "Sorry man," I apologized and tried to take the spotlight off of my shortcomings. "So Charlotte..."
"Call me Char."
"Okay. So, Char, Luke’s told you all about me then, huh? Only good things I hope."
"Yep, sure has. He said y’all lived together for about a year. Best time he ever had in college – especially since you had all that money from the stock market."
"Shit! Those were great times, huh, Paul? Remember?! You used to treat everyone! Hundred dollar dinners... That wide-screen TV. Oh! And the DVD player and brand spankin’ new computer. They were great times until..." I managed to push the spotlight out of my face momentarily, but, that’s how it is with old acquaintances. No matter how hard you push, it only swings back around that much faster, "...You lost it all. How much was it again? A hundred and fifty thousand bucks?! Hey Char? Can you imagine? And you didn’t even believe me! A hundred and fifty..."
"Two hundred and fifty thousand," I interrupted. "Hey, listen, I’d rather not talk about it, okay?"
"No, yeah, yeah. Sure. Of course," Charlotte smiled sweetly and gave Luke a reprimanding look.
"What?" Luke jumped back at her immediately.
"Nothin’ Luke," and she sighed. She seemed like a sweet girl.
"Hey guys, look. The open-mike’s about to begin." A man had ordered the lights dimmed and was standing in silence on the stage. "I’m gonna go sit with my friend again. We’ll talk later, okay?" and I left to rejoin Kim.
"So?"
"In-fuckin-credible. It was him. My old roommate Luke. Can you imagine, Kim? Halfway across the world and we meet up here! Now if that’s not coincidence, I don’t know what is."
"That IS incredible." Kim leaned back and turned his body to the stage. The house lights were practically non-existent now and the man on stage was waiting for whatever was left of the idle chitchat to die down. I took a drag from my cigarette and another gulp of beer. "By the way," Kim turned to me one last time before the show started and whispered, "Herman’s here too."
Sure enough, Herman was towards the back of the room, still with his coat and mittens on, but with a cold pint of beer in his hands. He was looking for a seat. There were about thirty people in the room.

“When she stared into these eyes
My heart lit on fire
And the burnt, charred ashes
Fell gently to the ground.

I tried to pick them up
But the wind wouldn’t let me
So I stood there, watching
Wondering what might have been.

I knelt down that day
On that very spot
And ran my hands through the dirt
Where my Love once lay.

Yet, rather than cry my tears of sorrow
I turned to the heavens and smiled
For those ashes were no longer imprisoned within me
But free for the world to see.”

The man just stood there, staring into the dark crowd from his illuminated microphone. He had long, matted hair, a piercing gaze, and let the final "see-e-e-e" of the poem he had just read fade into eternity.
"Thank you," he continued and the crowd applauded. "And welcome to yet another ‘Poetry in the Twilight.’ I’m glad to see so many people came tonight. Word seems to spread fast so, if you enjoy yourselves this evening and grow just a bit, either spiritually, intellectually, or both, then don’t forget to spread that same word to others. Every Wednesday, Železná Jazz Club, half past eight. Well, without further ado, this evening’s poets, musicians, and artists of all forms. If you would like to perform but have yet to sign up, there’s still a sheet going around. First up, we have... Jennifer. Jennifer?" he paused and looked up. A middle-aged woman stood up and walked towards the stage. "Please give a big round of applause for Jennifer!"
Jennifer got up and read a short story she had written. It was a bit graphic but rather good – about a girl who gets raped by her husband. Next up was a young guy and his guitar. He sucked. He sang some of his own lyrics accompanied by a maximum of three chords which he kept screwing up anyway. When the presenter got on stage to call out the next artist, his eyes rolled as he announced Herman’s name.
Herman got up with a notebook in his hand and walked on stage, stumbling a bit before he hit the spotlight. He flipped his notebook open and squinted towards the source of the light. "Hey! Can you turn that damned thing down! Ježiš Maria. You tryin’ to make me blind!"
The stagehand/sound-technician obliged.
"Thanks," he hesitated a bit and swayed back and forth for a brief second, "...And thank you Michael for hosting this." He then turned his eyes upon the table the presenter was sitting at. "And thank you to your friends... and lovely lady-friend you have there... for comin’."
Kim was trying desperately to contain his laughter but couldn’t help releasing a chuckle.
He caught Herman’s attention, "Hey Kim! You’re here too?! Okay, well. Let’s get down to it." He kept swaying back and forth on the stage and squinting at the paper before him. "Well, this is from Chapter Five of my novel Pružina v Praze – springtime in Prague."
"I’m sorry to interrupt, Herman," the presenter’s girlfriend spoke from the darkness. "But I’ve already told you so many times. At every single open-mike you go to. ‘Pružina’ is spring – the small metal coil thing – not spring the season. Again, sorry for interrupting you but it sounds horrible in Czech. You really should correct it." She had a strong, distinct accent.
Herman looked into the darkness, not even towards where the voice had come from. "How the FUCK do you know?! Pružina is SPRING! SPRINGTIME!" he spat out.
"Listen to her Herman!" the host interrupted. "She knows what she’s saying. You sound like a bloody fool. ‘A spring in Prague.’ For Christ’s sake..."
"What the...?" Herman was more shocked and belligerent than ever. "How the FUCK do you..." he cut himself off. "How the FUCK does SHE know?! That fucking kurva..." he mumbled the last few words.
"I heard that!" she yelled back. "It’s because I’m CZECH, asshole! I think I know my own language! And we’ve already told you every time you read from it!"
"Yeah, well..." Herman’s lazy eyes turned back to his notebook. "As I was saying. ‘SPRINGTIME..." he emphasized and glanced once again towards the audience, "...in Prague.’" He cleared his throat and squinted at his notebook.
"Click clack, click clack, click."
He paused dramatically and stared at the crowd, then back to his notebook.
"Clickity clack, clickity clack."
Another dramatic pause.
"Clickity clack, clackity..."
Pause as if he were going to reveal who shot J.R.
"...click!!! Clickity clack. Clickity clack, clackity click.
"Hey Jeff," she interrupted his train of thought. "All I ever see you doing is typing away in that damned word processor of yours. I mean, Ježiš Maria, here we are in Praha, and you just sit at home writing all day."
How many times had she done this before? Always an interruption, and always
when he least needed it..."
Herman hesitated a bit. He squinted hard at notebook, looked towards the spotlight, and then back down again. He had been swaying all the while. "These fucking lights are too low. How am I supposed to read?" he whispered, but just loud enough for everyone to hear. He continued,
"But, as always, he still tried to convince her, "Listen, honey, that’s what I do. I write. I’m a writer. Besides, like you said, don’t you know that this is Praha? Prague is the Paris of the 20s!"
"Herman!" the presenter interrupted once again. "Every time you manage to crawl onto the stage – no matter at what gathering – you always read the same bloody thing. And you always get it wrong. The expression is that ‘Prague is the Left Bank of the 90s’! Do you hear me? The LEFT BANK of the 90s! That’s what Alan Levy printed in The Prague Post and that’s the quote everyone knows and uses. For Christ’s sake, get your facts straight for once."
"What the fuck?" Herman looked up, more confused and drunk than ever. He was too tired and drowsy to argue. He just wanted to sit down somewhere and finish his beer. "FUCK THIS!" he sounded off emphatically, trampled off stage, and practically tripped over the microphone wire trying to get back to his seat.
The presenter regained control of the microphone. "Well, thank you Herman. An interesting reading as usual... Let’s take a short break, shall we? We can start again in, let’s say, ten minutes."
By the time the second half started, Herman had left. He finished and paid for his drink and found his way outdoors, but not before calling the presenter’s girlfriend "Kurva!" one last time.
About seven more people read and played music before the night was over. Some were mediocre, some were good, and one was extraordinary. He played classical guitar – a full fifteen minutes worth – but no one seemed to mind.* (* The time limit per performance was, at the presenter’s request, supposed to be kept under six minutes. We all begged this guitarist to continue and the presenter sided with the audience, making it the only exception of the evening.) Mozart and Bach were the two pieces he had selected. It was a treat for the ears as each delicate note was plucked one after the other. Unlike the strum and vibrate chords we had heard throughout the evening, this guitar was exquisite. Kim was amazing. I had never heard him play before and I had never expected something that beautiful. He received the largest and loudest applause of the evening.
"Wow, Kim!" I remarked as he sat back down next to me. "I had no idea... I mean... that was... It was fantastic."
He smiled. "Thanks," and gulped down some beer.
"I mean, wow. Let me know next time you play. Wow... I’ll be the first one there."
"OK, Paul! It’ll probably be only once or twice more though. I’m leaving Prague in two weeks," he calmly said as he snapped his guitar case shut.