CHAPTER 19 - New Faces In Familiar Places
I went to Dan’s room and knocked on his door. The morning’s hangover was still knocking on my head.
"Come in."
I walked in. Dan, as always, was in his room and reading. "Hey man, have you seen my mobile phone anywhere?"
"Sorry, Paul. Can’t say that I have."
"Well that sucks. I can’t seem to find it anywhere. Say, would you mind calling me on it? Hopefully it’ll ring and I’ll be able to hear it."
"Yes, of course." Dan reached for his phone, pressed a few keys, and put it to his ear. He hung up a minute or so later. "Sorry, Paul, no response. The operator says that the mobile has been switched off."
"Shit. OK. Well, thanks anyway."
"Cheers."
Fuck. Where was my cell phone? And what was this ‘switched off’ nonsense? I never turned my phone off. So I searched my room once again. All the clothes I had been wearing the night before. Under the bed. In the closet. Everywhere. Everything... Nothing. Then it dawned on me. The last time I had seen my phone was the night before. On the night bus coming home from Eva’s party. Shit! I sent her that apology and, while waiting for a response, must have dozed off in my seat with phone in hand. Someone must have just walked by and taken it. Fuck! Easy pickings. How could I be such an idiot? I had owned that phone for only a month, and now it was gone already. An investment in Eva, a way to communicate. A worthless investment! Good money wasted!
I went back to bed and tried to sleep it off. It wouldn’t work so, seeing as I was on my last pair of underwear, I decided to go and do some laundry. There were only two washing machines in the Dum – one on the eighth floor, my floor, and one on the seventh – and you needed a key from reception to get into the rooms where they were located. I got the key for my floor and opened the door. This was not my day. The tiles beneath me were completely covered in water. I could see, in the far corner, a steady drip coming from one of the pipes protruding from the wall.
"Washing machine on the eight floor is broken."
"Oh, sorry. Try the seventh floor. Here is the key."
I grunted, "Thank you," to the receptionist.
Alpha was sitting in the seventh floor TV room watching the French news channel, as usual. "Allô Paul. How ah you?"
"Hey Alpha. Alright. Just doing some laundry."
"Oh, sorry. I think is hors service now. Out service. You must to use the otha machine on eight floor."
I stared at Alpha in disbelief. Fuck Alpha’s advice, I thought! Fuck this washing machine! I’d fix it, or smash it to pieces trying. "Thanks, but I’ll take a look anyway."
Alpha was right. The door from the washing machine wouldn’t close. It was jammed. First I tried wriggling it into place. That didn’t seem to work. Then I tried pushing and pulling it. A little elbow grease. Also nothing. And so, I resorted to the tried and true of a frustrated man.
"You fucking piece of shit!" Whack! A kick to the machine. "Work, Goddamn you! Work!" Bamm! A fist to the top. One last kick to the machine’s door. And then, crack and snap. The door fell to the ground and resonated with a sound that told me the machine wouldn’t be working again for a long, long time. "Motherfucker!"
"Easy, noo. Cannie, mon!" came a thick accent from behind me.
I turned and faced the door. There stood a tall brunette with the smiling face of a goddess.
"What?"
"Ah said, be careful. Kicking it wullna make it work better. Especially if the door gaes flyin off!"
I had trouble understanding her at first. The accent was really thick. But my ear tried to adjust. I couldn’t quite put my finger on where she was from, "Sorry. You know, I’ve been having sort of a bad weekend. This probably doesn’t look too good. Anyway... I’m Paul. Do you live here too?"
"Aye, richt next door," as the R from ‘door’ rolled on and on and on.
Bingo. She was Scottish. "Really? And I haven’t seen you here before? How long have you been here?"
"Och, it’s a while now. Ah came richt efter January. Aw o three months." She kept grinning. She was standing there in the doorway as I clenched my dirty underwear under one arm and tried to push the dislodged washing machine door to the side with my foot. It was incredible, she just remained there smiling and staring – I don’t even think she blinked. A moment before I was completely hypnotized, she stepped forward and held out her hand, "Margaret. It’s a pleasure ta meet ye. Sae, Paul ye said, richt?"
"Yeah... yeah," it took me a second or two to recover from her witchcraft. That and her English was difficult as hell to decipher.
"Och, dinna worry aboot the machine, Paul. Whit’s daen is daen." We walked into the hallway and shut the door to the washing room. "Sae, Ah answert yer question. Noo ye answer mine. How lang hae ye been living in this luxury palace?"
"The Dum?"
"Aye."
"You? I thought you said three months?"
"Aye. Aw o three months. But na me. Ye."
"Oh, right. ‘Aye’ not ‘I’," I mumbled to myself incoherently. "Well, I’ve been here since... November. Wow! Over five months now! Going on six actually. How time does fly."
"Aye, aht it daes... Sae, Paul, wud ye care fur a cup o coffee? Aht it is, unless ye’re busy noo. Ah dinna wunt ta be a footer."
"What?"
"Coffee. Ye wunt coffee... If yer no busy."
"No, I’m not busy. It’s Sunday, right? Nothing to do all day. I’d love a cup of coffee!"
We walked into the seventh floor kitchen, Margaret put on a pot of water to boil, and I sat down to roll a cigarette, placing the pile of dirty laundry by my feet.
"Unreal, isnae? Ye live somewhaur fer a few months an ye think ye know everyin. Ye’ve seen everyin ehre is ta see. An en, yin day... Poof! Ere’s someyin ye’ve ne’er met! An utter an complete stranger," her Rs roller on like a tiger’s growl. I was gradually growing accustomed to her accent and, at the same time, finding it more and more of a turn on.
"Yeah, I know. For God’s sake... I’ve been here for about half a year now and I don’t really know anyone from this floor. Well, except for Alpha I guess."
"Aye, Alpha. He’s a luvely laddie."
"Yeah, he is. But he’s always watching that French channel. At least every time I come down here to the seventh floor he is." I paused. "Wow, that is absolutely incredible. Now that I think of it, I can’t even believe it myself. Apart from Alpha, I really don’t know anyone who lives on the seventh floor... Aha! Oh wait, Kim lived on this floor. You remember Kim?"
Margaret thought for a moment then replied, "Nae, cannae say that I dae. Whit daed he keek like?"
"Keek? What’s that?"
"Sorry, luv. Ma accent’s a wee difficult, eh? Look. Whit did he look like?"
"You know, the Korean guy. Always playing his guitar in the stairwell."
"Nae, nae. Definitely ne’er met him. He musta baen before ma time."
Incredible. Before her time? Had I really been at the Dum that long? Had Kim actually been gone for that long? "Yeah, maybe. Well, do you know anyone from my floor?"
"Sure Ah do. Ah met Reinhard once. He’s always down ere talking ta Alpha. An Herman... the wanker! He tried ta snug me yin nicht when he was drunk. Then ehre’s a couple o others Ah know too – Mikko, Eric, Kyle..."
"Yeah, of course. I know all of them. I play chess with Kyle all the time. Canadian, right?"
"Aye, aht’s him." She poured the two cups of instant coffee and brought them to the table.
"I can’t believe I don’t know anyone down here. I mean, I’m an outgoing guy. I’m pretty friendly."
Margaret sat down next to me and smiled that seductive witch’s smile, "Aye. Aht ya are, luv. Och, at least when ye’re no smashing up any washing machines!"
Margaret was a very attractive girl, Not as attractive as Eva... Well, actually, she may have been more attractive than Eva. But at that point, I would never admit it possible that anyone could be more beautiful than my little Czech flower. Margaret had long brown hair, brown eyes, and full luscious lips. Her figure was a bit fuller than Eva’s, but the proportions were still mouthwatering. The most attractive thing about Margaret, though, wasn’t any one physical feature. Rather, it was her aura, her essence. The way she presented herself and spoke was both mysterious and seductive. She never gave too much away but, when she raised that eyebrow of hers and gently pouted those lips, I was entranced. A Scottish witch – a beautiful Scottish witch.
We sat there talking for about an hour or so. She told me why she had come to Prague (she wanted to explore the world) and that she had traveled here with her old English college roommate, Kate. They were both, of course, making ends meet by teaching English. Eventually, Margaret told me it was such a shame we had met so late because she, Kate, and one other boy, an American named Tom who also lived on the seventh floor, were moving out of the Dum and into a more habitable, centrally-located apartment in two weeks time. Why hadn’t we met earlier? we both lamented. But we agreed to keep in touch even after she had moved out. Margaret and I got along really well. We had an instant rapport with each other and agreed to meet later that same Sunday, at nine o’clock, for a glass of wine in the seventh floor TV room.
After I left Margaret that afternoon, I went to the local supermarket, bought a bottle of wine, and returned home, finally able to take a nap. I woke up a few hours later, released some tension – for the first time in over a month without images of Eva in my head – and took a shower. I then sat in bed, reading, waiting for nine o’clock to arrive.
Margaret showed up a couple of minutes after me. "Hello. You’re even more beautiful than you were a few hours ago."
"Och, please. Aren’t ye the charming yin, bonny luv?"
"He, he. Well, you know." I pointed to the bottle of wine on the table. "I bought this earlier today. Shall we?"
"Of course. I’ll gae git a corkscrew an some glasses. Be richt back, luv!"
Margaret and I sat there alone, on the one couch in the TV room, talking, laughing and having a good time for the next few hours. The minutes went by as if they were seconds and, thank God, we were all alone the entire night. Alpha wasn’t there with his French channel and there were no other evening visitors willing to test their luck and see if there was anything good on TV that night. Only once, at around ten, were we interrupted when Kate, Margaret’s roommate, stepped off the elevator with a backpack on her shoulders. She was in her mid-twenties too, had short red hair, and a body just as fit as Margaret’s. What she didn’t have in physical beauty, though, she tried to make up with cosmetics.
"How was Česky Krumlov?" asked Margaret.
"Great. Such a lovely town! You really ought to visit it someday."
"Sure. Wull dae... This is Paul by the wae. He lives on the eighth floor."
"Ah, hello Paul. Pleasure to meet you. Haven’t seen you around here before though, have I?" Kate spoke the Queen’s English. She sounded like one of the speakers on those textbook tapes I so often played in class for my students.
"No. Strange, isn’t it? Been here for about half a year now and never really knew anyone down here. I just actually met Margaret this morning. Say," I lifted the bottle of wine and poured myself some more, " You wanna join us?"
"No, no. Thank you but I can’t. I have to prepare for some lessons tomorrow. But thank you all the same. Cheers." Kate surveyed the room and saw that we were alone. She then gave Margaret a squint-eyed look and said, "So, no Kyle tonight?"
"Nae, he’s away fur the week. He had ta get his visa renewed in Germany," she replied without any hesitation.
"Ah-ha. Well, then. Good night to the both of you. As I said before, pleasure meeting you, Paul," and with that formality she was off.
"So, that’s your roommate, huh?"
"Aye," Margaret refilled her glass of wine to the top.
"She seems nice enough."
"Well," Margaret took a sip, "She has her moments."
"I see." We sat there for a moment in silence. "Umm, what was that thing she said about Kyle? Does he usually hang out here or something?"
Margaret put her glass down, stared me directly in the eye, and released some of her witchcraft. "Sae, Paul. Ehre’s something I oucht ta tell ye. I wunt ta be honest."
"I’m listening." Here it went. I knew this was all too good to be true. A beautiful girl, living in the Dum, and able to speak English who happened to be relationship-free? Not likely.
"Och, Kyle an Ah sort o have this thing tagether."
"I knew it," I took a long sip of wine. "What is he, your boyfriend?" I was too late. Another man had already claimed her.
"Nae, nae! Aht’s na it at all. We just, well, sort o see each other sometimes."
"What’s that supposed to mean?"
"Well, he’s na ma boyfriend. We just get on very well. In fact, he has a girlfriend. A Czech girl aht he’s been seeing fur the past moonth."
"So... This," I pointed to her and then to myself, "is alright? There are no problems with us?"
"Nae at all, luv. Nathing ta worry aboot. In fact, it’s nathing really between Kyle an myself. At least not onymore."
"Uh-huh," I looked into Margaret’s eyes and she seemed sincere. "Well, if you say so. If you’re sure."
"O course I am! Nae even worth mentioning."
And so, we didn’t mention it again. I didn’t want to push my luck, especially after what I had been going through with other boyfriend-related events in my life. Margaret and I soon finished the bottle but still sat there, on that couch and so close that we could feel each other, for another hour. I eventually put my arm around her and pulled her in close. She wrapped her arms around my body and we locked lips, only stopping occasionally to feel one’s warm breath fall upon the other’s cheeks and neck. In the end, I walked her to her room, hand in hand, and wished her goodnight. But not before kissing her once more, before running my hands up and down her sensuous body. But it was getting late and we were both tired. We agreed that sex would be better and could wait for another night – one in which we would both be refreshed and didn’t have to teach early in the morning.
I pulled Eva aside during the lesson break that Monday morning and asked her if she had received my text-message apology after her birthday party. She had. I apologized once again and, as she always did in her sweet, seductive, innocent manner, told me not to worry about it. I told her I would like to make it up to her and we agreed to go for coffee the next day after school.
We sat down and ordered. "Eva, you know, I’m really sorry the way I acted this past weekend. I know I already told you yesterday, but I just want you to know it again."
"Listen, Paul. I know. Is fine. Do not worry. We forget it, okay? I told you yesterday and I tell you know. Is fine. Do not worry."
"Yeah, I know. It’s just... it’s just. Well, I find you so... beautiful. You’re so attractive that sometimes I..."
Eva blushed and showed me that charming little smile of hers. "Thank you."
What was I doing? I was begging! Over-inflating her ego. Why? I had Margaret back home at the Dum and would be with her soon enough. Why was I doing this? But then one intense look at Eva and I knew, "Sorry if I want to just grab you, hold you, and kiss you so often."
"I know, Paul," she blushed again. "But I cannot. I have boyfriend. I’m sorry."
We sat there for a moment, not saying a word to each other. The waiter bought our coffee.
I needed to change the topic. "So, you’ll never guess what happened to me after your party on Saturday."
"What?" she asked.
"I got my phone stolen!"
"What? That’s why I cannot sending you messages? How it happened?"
"Well," I couldn’t make myself look like that much of an idiot. That I fell asleep with it – in my hand! "The bastards! I was standing on the night tram, completely awake and alert, waiting for the stop where I had to get off and transfer. Someone must have slipped it out of my pocket then because when I stepped off, it was already gone. I didn’t even realize it until it was too late! These pickpockets really know what they’re doing."
"Yes. It is a pity. Probably Gypsies." The Czechs hate Gypsies. Well, not all Czechs. Maybe just ninety-seven percent of them. I once asked a Czech man I had met in a pub, after he had said something against Gypsies, whether he considered himself to be a racist or not. His reply said it all. ‘Of course I’m not a racist! I just hate Gypsies.’
"Well, nothing I can do about it now."
"Listen to me, Paul. I can help you. I have extra mobile. My old mobile. I give it to you. It is old, but for free."
"Really? I mean, you don’t have to do that for me."
"No, no. Is no problem. Please."
True to her word, Eva brought in a cell phone – an outdated, beaten-up, heavy old thing – and gave it to me the next day. I wasn’t sure that it would even turn on, but when I pressed the power button, it did. What more, she didn’t want any money for it. Eva. I couldn’t believe her. Every time I tried to put her out of my mind, she did something incredible like this. Not only was she one of the most beautiful creatures I had ever met, but she was so sweet and kind as well. I envied her boyfriend more than ever. I wish he knew exactly what he had. My only fear was that he didn’t – leaving her here, all alone, to wait for him for nearly two years. I didn’t know how she put up with it. But then again, it wasn’t my problem. I had to try and get her out of my mind. It was the only way. Try and forget her.
My weekly Czech lesson with Pavel didn’t last too long that Wednesday. I was really tired and just felt like going home. After all, Wednesdays were supposed to be, as far as normal productive members of society were concerned, the middle of the workweek. So we only had three beers each and saw each other off.
On my way home, it dawned on me that I hadn’t actually seen Margaret in the Dum since that Sunday, the day we met. She had just disappeared. So I decided to pick up a bottle of wine at a store before I went up to my room and then go in search of her. I didn’t have to search for long. Coincidentally, she was sitting in the hallway, outside one of the doors on my floor, having a drink with Kyle.
"Hey guys, how are you?"
"Hello," Kyle said with a smile.
"Hiya, luv," Margaret grinned. "Ye want ta join us?" It didn’t take long for her to start using that magic on me.
"Um, yeah. Sure. But I just got in. Let me go take my jackets off and leave my things in the room. I’ll be right back."
"See ye soon then," Margaret winked at me. She broke off her seductive gaze and resumed her conversation with Kyle.
"Hello, Margaret," I kissed her on the cheek when I came back out. "Hi, Kyle," I shook his hand firmly. "I bought this bottle of wine. We can drink it when the one you guys are drinking is done."
"Yeah, sure. Thanks, Paul. Help yourself to this one first though," Kyle offered.
Margaret kept smiling at me intently. I winked at her and she grinned. "Let me just go get a glass." I went to the kitchen and returned. Margaret was still grinning. "So, why are you two sitting out here? In the hallway? On the floor?"
"Well, you know. Too many people in the TV room. And the kitchen’s freezing. I don’t know, maybe the heater’s busted, eh?" Kyle replied.
"Ah. Oh well, I guess it’s better here anyway. More comfortable and not as noisy so we can talk."
"Och, exactly," chimed in Margaret. "An more intimate fur a conversation." She still kept grinning at me. I smiled back.
Kyle looked like he was getting a little annoyed. Or frustrated. Or something. "Listen guys. I have to go to the bathroom." He opened the door to his room, the one we were sitting by, and went in.
The second it shut, Margaret jumped out of her cross-legged position and flung herself on me. We kissed passionately. "Ah missed ye, luv. Ye look great, ye bonnie laddie."
"Thanks. So do you. I missed you too. Where have you been?"
"Och, ye know. Ere an ehre," we pressed our lips together once again.
"Listen," I broke off for a second. "This feels a little awkward. You grinning at me all the time and then... well, what with Kyle and all. Are you sure he doesn’t mind?"
"Nae at all, luv."
"But listen. I don’t want any bad feelings between him and me. And, even worse, I don’t want him to feel bad. You know, depressed and all, all on account of me. I know how it feels."
"Ahh, look at ye," she stroked my cheek and ran her fingers through my hair. "Ye’re so precious and considerate, ye are. Ye got yer ain hert o gold. Trust me. It’s all taken care of. He dinna mind at all," and she kissed me delicately on the forehead.
"Okay then. If you say so." Margaret sat by my side and gently rested her head on my shoulder.
Kyle came out of his room, gave Margaret a look, and sat on the floor opposite us. "Alright you two. Break it up now."
It felt strange. Too strange. I had to say something. "Hey, Kyle, listen. I don’t want any hard feelings between us. I mean, you’re a nice guy and all, and I wouldn’t want to hurt you. I don’t know what the deal is between you and Margaret. If it’s over between you guys now or what. But I just don’t want to..."
"Paul," Kyle interrupted. "Trust me. It’s not a problem. Let’s just not talk about it."
Margaret lifted her head from my shoulder and kissed me on the cheek. "See, luv? Ah told ye."
I didn’t want to dwell on the subject, for Kyle’s sake. Margaret must have told him everything. About Sunday. It doesn’t feel good to lose your woman to someone else. "So, Kyle. You were away last week? Needed to get a visa or something? I didn’t know we needed a visa or anything like that."
"Well, actually, Americans don’t. I think. But Canadians do. Our government refused entry to some Czech Gypsies – they were claiming asylum status – a while back. And, because of that, there were some diplomatic problems. Anyway, all I have to do is drive to Germany every so often and get a new stamp. No big deal."
"Oh, I see."
Kyle took out a packet of cigarettes, gave one to Margaret, and offered me one. I took it and all three of us lit up. We sat there, for the next half hour or so, finishing that first bottle of wine and just talking about life in the Czech Republic in general. How it differed from back home. How we felt like we had more freedom. How we were doing things that most other people never experience. And all the while, Kyle didn’t seem to mind at all that Margaret was by my side and not his. I guess she had worked her magic on him as well.
"Well, looks like this bottle’s done. Where’s that bottle of yours, Paul?"
"Right here."
"Okay. Hold on. I’ll go get a corkscrew and we can open it." Kyle got up and was just about to open the door to his room when Margaret spoke up.
"Aye, but ma bum hurts. Whit wi’ all the sitting oot ere on the floor. Ye’ve got some chairs inside, dinna ye?"
"Well, yeah."
"An aht comfortable bed o yers. Come on, let’s just go sit in ehre," and she stood up.
Kyle threw her a stern look, as if he didn’t want us in his room. But Margaret soon showed him her sweet smile, raised her seductive eyebrow a bit, and adjusted her shirt so that one could make out all of her luscious curves. Kyle helplessly gave in and agreed to her suggestion as he unlocked his door.
Margaret pulled me up from the floor, pressed her body firmly against mine, and gave me another wet kiss, "See? No problems, luv!"
Kyle opened his door and showed us in. His room was identical to mine, but, then again I thought, all rooms at the Dum must be. It was, after all, a hotel. Margaret ran to the bed and threw herself on it. She let out a sigh of relief. I sat in the armchair by the window and rolled a cigarette while Kyle opened the bottle of wine and poured us all a fresh glass.
"Cheers!" he said.
"Nazdraví!" I replied and we all took a sip. "Hey, you mind if I smoke in here?"
"No, no. Not at all. Go ahead," he reassured me as I lit up. He then went and sat next to Margaret on the bed.
As I lounged there in that armchair, enjoying my cigarette, the conversation from outside in the hallway struggled to continued. It began to fade only a few minutes later, right after I had snuffed my smoke. I took another long sip of wine, leaned back into the armchair’s cushions and purred into the silence, "Ahhh... This is really comfortable."
"Aye! Probably more comfortable than this stiff, ol’ bed ere!" Margaret complained.
"Come on, it’s not that bad. Look, it’s soft," Kyle jumped up and down a bit in order to showcase the mattress. "But, if you’re really not comfortable, maybe I can massage you then?"
My ears perked up. I wondered how Margaret would respond. "Well... I dinna know. But, I guess... Och, hell. Okay." Kyle immediately put hands on Margaret’s shoulders. "But maybe Paul wants a massage too. Dinna ye, luv? Come ere an sit by ma side! Ah’ll give ye yin," as she patted the empty place on the mattress beside her.
"Sounds great!" I was never one to give up a free back-rub – especially from a beautiful girl. Kyle stared at me emotionlessly as I got up from the armchair and walked to his bed. He kept rubbing Margaret’s shoulders and back as she eagerly started on mine. "Ah, this is great," I sighed. "I love this country."
Ten minutes or so later, Margaret let out an ecstatic moan, "Mon! That feels great, Kyle! Wonderful!" she rolled the R before ‘wonderful’ for a few seconds. "But I feel bad. There’s nae rubbing fur ye."
"It’s okay. I don’t mind," Kyle replied humbly.
"Na, na now. It isnae richt." Margaret got up and sat behind Kyle. As she started rubbing his back, she told me, "Sorry, luv! But it wisnae richt."
There I was. No one rubbing my back. And Margaret wasn’t even by my side anymore! Oh well, I thought, a nice ten-minute rub is better than nothing.
"Well, you know Paul," Kyle said after a few minutes of silence. "I could massage your back a bit if you want. You know," he hesitated, "If that’s alright with you."
"Well, I don’t know Kyle..."
"Come on, luv!" Margaret urged. "He’s got the hands o a saint. It feels great!"
"Well... Yeah, okay. What the fuck."
Kyle started massaging my back and soon I had no regrets. Margaret was right, this guy was like a professional masseur. I lost my inhibitions, closed my eyes, and enjoyed the moment. With streaks of pleasure running up and down my back, my mind went elsewhere. Thoughts went back to home. Back to Philadelphia. Family and friends. I wondered, What were they doing while I was enjoying life here in Prague? And old college friends down in Georgia. What were they doing? Had they gone off and started some office jobs? Had they become productive members of the economic cycle yet? At least one of them hadn’t. Luke – I was sure of that. He had escaped the Machine’s alluring grip along with me, even if only temporarily. But the others. Poor bastards. Many would look back to college, or even high school, and think that those were the best days of their lives. There was nothing more left to hope for. But I had to hand it to them. I had a great time at college too. All the newfound freedom and experiences. So many stories to tell. So many memories.
"Does it feel good?" Kyle said and brought me out of my reminiscence.
"Yeah, yeah. It’s great," I reassured him. Then it hit me. One of those college memories. A favorite. I never realized it until that moment. Something was strangely familiar.
"Ye know, Kyle, Ah cud rub yer back a lot better if ye took yer shirt off."
"Well... I don’t know," he replied. "Maybe if you take your shirt off too."
"Ma shirt!" Margaret exclaimed. "Okay. But Paul has ta come ere an rub ma back. Luv," she called to me. "Take off yer shirt then come over ere, take off ma shirt, an start rubbing me. Wud ye, luv?"
Kyle started massaging my back more intensely, more intimately. Whatthefuck began forming on my face. Then it clicked. Finally. "Hey! Hold on! I know this shit! I used to do this shit to girls back in college!" I turned around, stood up, and looked at Kyle and Margaret. They were both shocked. "I used to seduce chicks like this! ‘Hey baby. Come here and let me give you a back rub. Let’s take our shirts off. Doesn’t that feel good?’ Next thing you knew, we were doing the horizontal Rumba!" Whatthefuck was clearly on my face for both to see. "I’m the chick?! You were both trying to seduce me. Is that it?"
Kyle turned around and looked at Margaret. She had a blank look on her face. He turned back around, "Well, you know that... Um. Well, how can I put it..."
"Och, come on, luv! It’ll be fun! Just the three o us."
I looked back at Kyle. Only then did it set in how hairy he actually was. His 5pm shadow had already clearly formed and his forearms (he had rolled up his sleeves in order to rub my back) were pretty densely forested. I stepped back and looked at them both, "I don’t believe this."
They just sat there, unsure of what to do. Kyle looked at Margaret once again and then back at me. "Sooo," he interrupted the silence, "Is that a Yes, Paul?"
"What?! No! No, no. It’s definitely a No!" I went over to the table and picked up the pouch of tobacco I had left there. "I mean, if there were two girls here... Rock and Roll! But the way this is. Kyle, no offense buddy, but God no!"
"Come on, luv," Margaret beckoned me once more with her Siren’s powers. "We’ll have a blast."
But it was too late. I had ordered the sailors to tie me to the mast before we approached the island that evening. I couldn’t even move if I wanted to. The Siren could call as loudly and as beautifully as she wanted. I wasn’t budging.
"No way," I took one last gulp of wine, put the glass back on the table, and headed for the door.
"I told you we should have waited longer!" Kyle scolded Margaret as I closed the door behind me.
"Waited longer?! Kiss ma arse, ye eejit! Look at yerself! Ye’re drooling like a fucking laddie in a candy shop!"
"Come in."
I walked in. Dan, as always, was in his room and reading. "Hey man, have you seen my mobile phone anywhere?"
"Sorry, Paul. Can’t say that I have."
"Well that sucks. I can’t seem to find it anywhere. Say, would you mind calling me on it? Hopefully it’ll ring and I’ll be able to hear it."
"Yes, of course." Dan reached for his phone, pressed a few keys, and put it to his ear. He hung up a minute or so later. "Sorry, Paul, no response. The operator says that the mobile has been switched off."
"Shit. OK. Well, thanks anyway."
"Cheers."
Fuck. Where was my cell phone? And what was this ‘switched off’ nonsense? I never turned my phone off. So I searched my room once again. All the clothes I had been wearing the night before. Under the bed. In the closet. Everywhere. Everything... Nothing. Then it dawned on me. The last time I had seen my phone was the night before. On the night bus coming home from Eva’s party. Shit! I sent her that apology and, while waiting for a response, must have dozed off in my seat with phone in hand. Someone must have just walked by and taken it. Fuck! Easy pickings. How could I be such an idiot? I had owned that phone for only a month, and now it was gone already. An investment in Eva, a way to communicate. A worthless investment! Good money wasted!
I went back to bed and tried to sleep it off. It wouldn’t work so, seeing as I was on my last pair of underwear, I decided to go and do some laundry. There were only two washing machines in the Dum – one on the eighth floor, my floor, and one on the seventh – and you needed a key from reception to get into the rooms where they were located. I got the key for my floor and opened the door. This was not my day. The tiles beneath me were completely covered in water. I could see, in the far corner, a steady drip coming from one of the pipes protruding from the wall.
"Washing machine on the eight floor is broken."
"Oh, sorry. Try the seventh floor. Here is the key."
I grunted, "Thank you," to the receptionist.
Alpha was sitting in the seventh floor TV room watching the French news channel, as usual. "Allô Paul. How ah you?"
"Hey Alpha. Alright. Just doing some laundry."
"Oh, sorry. I think is hors service now. Out service. You must to use the otha machine on eight floor."
I stared at Alpha in disbelief. Fuck Alpha’s advice, I thought! Fuck this washing machine! I’d fix it, or smash it to pieces trying. "Thanks, but I’ll take a look anyway."
Alpha was right. The door from the washing machine wouldn’t close. It was jammed. First I tried wriggling it into place. That didn’t seem to work. Then I tried pushing and pulling it. A little elbow grease. Also nothing. And so, I resorted to the tried and true of a frustrated man.
"You fucking piece of shit!" Whack! A kick to the machine. "Work, Goddamn you! Work!" Bamm! A fist to the top. One last kick to the machine’s door. And then, crack and snap. The door fell to the ground and resonated with a sound that told me the machine wouldn’t be working again for a long, long time. "Motherfucker!"
"Easy, noo. Cannie, mon!" came a thick accent from behind me.
I turned and faced the door. There stood a tall brunette with the smiling face of a goddess.
"What?"
"Ah said, be careful. Kicking it wullna make it work better. Especially if the door gaes flyin off!"
I had trouble understanding her at first. The accent was really thick. But my ear tried to adjust. I couldn’t quite put my finger on where she was from, "Sorry. You know, I’ve been having sort of a bad weekend. This probably doesn’t look too good. Anyway... I’m Paul. Do you live here too?"
"Aye, richt next door," as the R from ‘door’ rolled on and on and on.
Bingo. She was Scottish. "Really? And I haven’t seen you here before? How long have you been here?"
"Och, it’s a while now. Ah came richt efter January. Aw o three months." She kept grinning. She was standing there in the doorway as I clenched my dirty underwear under one arm and tried to push the dislodged washing machine door to the side with my foot. It was incredible, she just remained there smiling and staring – I don’t even think she blinked. A moment before I was completely hypnotized, she stepped forward and held out her hand, "Margaret. It’s a pleasure ta meet ye. Sae, Paul ye said, richt?"
"Yeah... yeah," it took me a second or two to recover from her witchcraft. That and her English was difficult as hell to decipher.
"Och, dinna worry aboot the machine, Paul. Whit’s daen is daen." We walked into the hallway and shut the door to the washing room. "Sae, Ah answert yer question. Noo ye answer mine. How lang hae ye been living in this luxury palace?"
"The Dum?"
"Aye."
"You? I thought you said three months?"
"Aye. Aw o three months. But na me. Ye."
"Oh, right. ‘Aye’ not ‘I’," I mumbled to myself incoherently. "Well, I’ve been here since... November. Wow! Over five months now! Going on six actually. How time does fly."
"Aye, aht it daes... Sae, Paul, wud ye care fur a cup o coffee? Aht it is, unless ye’re busy noo. Ah dinna wunt ta be a footer."
"What?"
"Coffee. Ye wunt coffee... If yer no busy."
"No, I’m not busy. It’s Sunday, right? Nothing to do all day. I’d love a cup of coffee!"
We walked into the seventh floor kitchen, Margaret put on a pot of water to boil, and I sat down to roll a cigarette, placing the pile of dirty laundry by my feet.
"Unreal, isnae? Ye live somewhaur fer a few months an ye think ye know everyin. Ye’ve seen everyin ehre is ta see. An en, yin day... Poof! Ere’s someyin ye’ve ne’er met! An utter an complete stranger," her Rs roller on like a tiger’s growl. I was gradually growing accustomed to her accent and, at the same time, finding it more and more of a turn on.
"Yeah, I know. For God’s sake... I’ve been here for about half a year now and I don’t really know anyone from this floor. Well, except for Alpha I guess."
"Aye, Alpha. He’s a luvely laddie."
"Yeah, he is. But he’s always watching that French channel. At least every time I come down here to the seventh floor he is." I paused. "Wow, that is absolutely incredible. Now that I think of it, I can’t even believe it myself. Apart from Alpha, I really don’t know anyone who lives on the seventh floor... Aha! Oh wait, Kim lived on this floor. You remember Kim?"
Margaret thought for a moment then replied, "Nae, cannae say that I dae. Whit daed he keek like?"
"Keek? What’s that?"
"Sorry, luv. Ma accent’s a wee difficult, eh? Look. Whit did he look like?"
"You know, the Korean guy. Always playing his guitar in the stairwell."
"Nae, nae. Definitely ne’er met him. He musta baen before ma time."
Incredible. Before her time? Had I really been at the Dum that long? Had Kim actually been gone for that long? "Yeah, maybe. Well, do you know anyone from my floor?"
"Sure Ah do. Ah met Reinhard once. He’s always down ere talking ta Alpha. An Herman... the wanker! He tried ta snug me yin nicht when he was drunk. Then ehre’s a couple o others Ah know too – Mikko, Eric, Kyle..."
"Yeah, of course. I know all of them. I play chess with Kyle all the time. Canadian, right?"
"Aye, aht’s him." She poured the two cups of instant coffee and brought them to the table.
"I can’t believe I don’t know anyone down here. I mean, I’m an outgoing guy. I’m pretty friendly."
Margaret sat down next to me and smiled that seductive witch’s smile, "Aye. Aht ya are, luv. Och, at least when ye’re no smashing up any washing machines!"
Margaret was a very attractive girl, Not as attractive as Eva... Well, actually, she may have been more attractive than Eva. But at that point, I would never admit it possible that anyone could be more beautiful than my little Czech flower. Margaret had long brown hair, brown eyes, and full luscious lips. Her figure was a bit fuller than Eva’s, but the proportions were still mouthwatering. The most attractive thing about Margaret, though, wasn’t any one physical feature. Rather, it was her aura, her essence. The way she presented herself and spoke was both mysterious and seductive. She never gave too much away but, when she raised that eyebrow of hers and gently pouted those lips, I was entranced. A Scottish witch – a beautiful Scottish witch.
We sat there talking for about an hour or so. She told me why she had come to Prague (she wanted to explore the world) and that she had traveled here with her old English college roommate, Kate. They were both, of course, making ends meet by teaching English. Eventually, Margaret told me it was such a shame we had met so late because she, Kate, and one other boy, an American named Tom who also lived on the seventh floor, were moving out of the Dum and into a more habitable, centrally-located apartment in two weeks time. Why hadn’t we met earlier? we both lamented. But we agreed to keep in touch even after she had moved out. Margaret and I got along really well. We had an instant rapport with each other and agreed to meet later that same Sunday, at nine o’clock, for a glass of wine in the seventh floor TV room.
After I left Margaret that afternoon, I went to the local supermarket, bought a bottle of wine, and returned home, finally able to take a nap. I woke up a few hours later, released some tension – for the first time in over a month without images of Eva in my head – and took a shower. I then sat in bed, reading, waiting for nine o’clock to arrive.
Margaret showed up a couple of minutes after me. "Hello. You’re even more beautiful than you were a few hours ago."
"Och, please. Aren’t ye the charming yin, bonny luv?"
"He, he. Well, you know." I pointed to the bottle of wine on the table. "I bought this earlier today. Shall we?"
"Of course. I’ll gae git a corkscrew an some glasses. Be richt back, luv!"
Margaret and I sat there alone, on the one couch in the TV room, talking, laughing and having a good time for the next few hours. The minutes went by as if they were seconds and, thank God, we were all alone the entire night. Alpha wasn’t there with his French channel and there were no other evening visitors willing to test their luck and see if there was anything good on TV that night. Only once, at around ten, were we interrupted when Kate, Margaret’s roommate, stepped off the elevator with a backpack on her shoulders. She was in her mid-twenties too, had short red hair, and a body just as fit as Margaret’s. What she didn’t have in physical beauty, though, she tried to make up with cosmetics.
"How was Česky Krumlov?" asked Margaret.
"Great. Such a lovely town! You really ought to visit it someday."
"Sure. Wull dae... This is Paul by the wae. He lives on the eighth floor."
"Ah, hello Paul. Pleasure to meet you. Haven’t seen you around here before though, have I?" Kate spoke the Queen’s English. She sounded like one of the speakers on those textbook tapes I so often played in class for my students.
"No. Strange, isn’t it? Been here for about half a year now and never really knew anyone down here. I just actually met Margaret this morning. Say," I lifted the bottle of wine and poured myself some more, " You wanna join us?"
"No, no. Thank you but I can’t. I have to prepare for some lessons tomorrow. But thank you all the same. Cheers." Kate surveyed the room and saw that we were alone. She then gave Margaret a squint-eyed look and said, "So, no Kyle tonight?"
"Nae, he’s away fur the week. He had ta get his visa renewed in Germany," she replied without any hesitation.
"Ah-ha. Well, then. Good night to the both of you. As I said before, pleasure meeting you, Paul," and with that formality she was off.
"So, that’s your roommate, huh?"
"Aye," Margaret refilled her glass of wine to the top.
"She seems nice enough."
"Well," Margaret took a sip, "She has her moments."
"I see." We sat there for a moment in silence. "Umm, what was that thing she said about Kyle? Does he usually hang out here or something?"
Margaret put her glass down, stared me directly in the eye, and released some of her witchcraft. "Sae, Paul. Ehre’s something I oucht ta tell ye. I wunt ta be honest."
"I’m listening." Here it went. I knew this was all too good to be true. A beautiful girl, living in the Dum, and able to speak English who happened to be relationship-free? Not likely.
"Och, Kyle an Ah sort o have this thing tagether."
"I knew it," I took a long sip of wine. "What is he, your boyfriend?" I was too late. Another man had already claimed her.
"Nae, nae! Aht’s na it at all. We just, well, sort o see each other sometimes."
"What’s that supposed to mean?"
"Well, he’s na ma boyfriend. We just get on very well. In fact, he has a girlfriend. A Czech girl aht he’s been seeing fur the past moonth."
"So... This," I pointed to her and then to myself, "is alright? There are no problems with us?"
"Nae at all, luv. Nathing ta worry aboot. In fact, it’s nathing really between Kyle an myself. At least not onymore."
"Uh-huh," I looked into Margaret’s eyes and she seemed sincere. "Well, if you say so. If you’re sure."
"O course I am! Nae even worth mentioning."
And so, we didn’t mention it again. I didn’t want to push my luck, especially after what I had been going through with other boyfriend-related events in my life. Margaret and I soon finished the bottle but still sat there, on that couch and so close that we could feel each other, for another hour. I eventually put my arm around her and pulled her in close. She wrapped her arms around my body and we locked lips, only stopping occasionally to feel one’s warm breath fall upon the other’s cheeks and neck. In the end, I walked her to her room, hand in hand, and wished her goodnight. But not before kissing her once more, before running my hands up and down her sensuous body. But it was getting late and we were both tired. We agreed that sex would be better and could wait for another night – one in which we would both be refreshed and didn’t have to teach early in the morning.
I pulled Eva aside during the lesson break that Monday morning and asked her if she had received my text-message apology after her birthday party. She had. I apologized once again and, as she always did in her sweet, seductive, innocent manner, told me not to worry about it. I told her I would like to make it up to her and we agreed to go for coffee the next day after school.
We sat down and ordered. "Eva, you know, I’m really sorry the way I acted this past weekend. I know I already told you yesterday, but I just want you to know it again."
"Listen, Paul. I know. Is fine. Do not worry. We forget it, okay? I told you yesterday and I tell you know. Is fine. Do not worry."
"Yeah, I know. It’s just... it’s just. Well, I find you so... beautiful. You’re so attractive that sometimes I..."
Eva blushed and showed me that charming little smile of hers. "Thank you."
What was I doing? I was begging! Over-inflating her ego. Why? I had Margaret back home at the Dum and would be with her soon enough. Why was I doing this? But then one intense look at Eva and I knew, "Sorry if I want to just grab you, hold you, and kiss you so often."
"I know, Paul," she blushed again. "But I cannot. I have boyfriend. I’m sorry."
We sat there for a moment, not saying a word to each other. The waiter bought our coffee.
I needed to change the topic. "So, you’ll never guess what happened to me after your party on Saturday."
"What?" she asked.
"I got my phone stolen!"
"What? That’s why I cannot sending you messages? How it happened?"
"Well," I couldn’t make myself look like that much of an idiot. That I fell asleep with it – in my hand! "The bastards! I was standing on the night tram, completely awake and alert, waiting for the stop where I had to get off and transfer. Someone must have slipped it out of my pocket then because when I stepped off, it was already gone. I didn’t even realize it until it was too late! These pickpockets really know what they’re doing."
"Yes. It is a pity. Probably Gypsies." The Czechs hate Gypsies. Well, not all Czechs. Maybe just ninety-seven percent of them. I once asked a Czech man I had met in a pub, after he had said something against Gypsies, whether he considered himself to be a racist or not. His reply said it all. ‘Of course I’m not a racist! I just hate Gypsies.’
"Well, nothing I can do about it now."
"Listen to me, Paul. I can help you. I have extra mobile. My old mobile. I give it to you. It is old, but for free."
"Really? I mean, you don’t have to do that for me."
"No, no. Is no problem. Please."
True to her word, Eva brought in a cell phone – an outdated, beaten-up, heavy old thing – and gave it to me the next day. I wasn’t sure that it would even turn on, but when I pressed the power button, it did. What more, she didn’t want any money for it. Eva. I couldn’t believe her. Every time I tried to put her out of my mind, she did something incredible like this. Not only was she one of the most beautiful creatures I had ever met, but she was so sweet and kind as well. I envied her boyfriend more than ever. I wish he knew exactly what he had. My only fear was that he didn’t – leaving her here, all alone, to wait for him for nearly two years. I didn’t know how she put up with it. But then again, it wasn’t my problem. I had to try and get her out of my mind. It was the only way. Try and forget her.
My weekly Czech lesson with Pavel didn’t last too long that Wednesday. I was really tired and just felt like going home. After all, Wednesdays were supposed to be, as far as normal productive members of society were concerned, the middle of the workweek. So we only had three beers each and saw each other off.
On my way home, it dawned on me that I hadn’t actually seen Margaret in the Dum since that Sunday, the day we met. She had just disappeared. So I decided to pick up a bottle of wine at a store before I went up to my room and then go in search of her. I didn’t have to search for long. Coincidentally, she was sitting in the hallway, outside one of the doors on my floor, having a drink with Kyle.
"Hey guys, how are you?"
"Hello," Kyle said with a smile.
"Hiya, luv," Margaret grinned. "Ye want ta join us?" It didn’t take long for her to start using that magic on me.
"Um, yeah. Sure. But I just got in. Let me go take my jackets off and leave my things in the room. I’ll be right back."
"See ye soon then," Margaret winked at me. She broke off her seductive gaze and resumed her conversation with Kyle.
"Hello, Margaret," I kissed her on the cheek when I came back out. "Hi, Kyle," I shook his hand firmly. "I bought this bottle of wine. We can drink it when the one you guys are drinking is done."
"Yeah, sure. Thanks, Paul. Help yourself to this one first though," Kyle offered.
Margaret kept smiling at me intently. I winked at her and she grinned. "Let me just go get a glass." I went to the kitchen and returned. Margaret was still grinning. "So, why are you two sitting out here? In the hallway? On the floor?"
"Well, you know. Too many people in the TV room. And the kitchen’s freezing. I don’t know, maybe the heater’s busted, eh?" Kyle replied.
"Ah. Oh well, I guess it’s better here anyway. More comfortable and not as noisy so we can talk."
"Och, exactly," chimed in Margaret. "An more intimate fur a conversation." She still kept grinning at me. I smiled back.
Kyle looked like he was getting a little annoyed. Or frustrated. Or something. "Listen guys. I have to go to the bathroom." He opened the door to his room, the one we were sitting by, and went in.
The second it shut, Margaret jumped out of her cross-legged position and flung herself on me. We kissed passionately. "Ah missed ye, luv. Ye look great, ye bonnie laddie."
"Thanks. So do you. I missed you too. Where have you been?"
"Och, ye know. Ere an ehre," we pressed our lips together once again.
"Listen," I broke off for a second. "This feels a little awkward. You grinning at me all the time and then... well, what with Kyle and all. Are you sure he doesn’t mind?"
"Nae at all, luv."
"But listen. I don’t want any bad feelings between him and me. And, even worse, I don’t want him to feel bad. You know, depressed and all, all on account of me. I know how it feels."
"Ahh, look at ye," she stroked my cheek and ran her fingers through my hair. "Ye’re so precious and considerate, ye are. Ye got yer ain hert o gold. Trust me. It’s all taken care of. He dinna mind at all," and she kissed me delicately on the forehead.
"Okay then. If you say so." Margaret sat by my side and gently rested her head on my shoulder.
Kyle came out of his room, gave Margaret a look, and sat on the floor opposite us. "Alright you two. Break it up now."
It felt strange. Too strange. I had to say something. "Hey, Kyle, listen. I don’t want any hard feelings between us. I mean, you’re a nice guy and all, and I wouldn’t want to hurt you. I don’t know what the deal is between you and Margaret. If it’s over between you guys now or what. But I just don’t want to..."
"Paul," Kyle interrupted. "Trust me. It’s not a problem. Let’s just not talk about it."
Margaret lifted her head from my shoulder and kissed me on the cheek. "See, luv? Ah told ye."
I didn’t want to dwell on the subject, for Kyle’s sake. Margaret must have told him everything. About Sunday. It doesn’t feel good to lose your woman to someone else. "So, Kyle. You were away last week? Needed to get a visa or something? I didn’t know we needed a visa or anything like that."
"Well, actually, Americans don’t. I think. But Canadians do. Our government refused entry to some Czech Gypsies – they were claiming asylum status – a while back. And, because of that, there were some diplomatic problems. Anyway, all I have to do is drive to Germany every so often and get a new stamp. No big deal."
"Oh, I see."
Kyle took out a packet of cigarettes, gave one to Margaret, and offered me one. I took it and all three of us lit up. We sat there, for the next half hour or so, finishing that first bottle of wine and just talking about life in the Czech Republic in general. How it differed from back home. How we felt like we had more freedom. How we were doing things that most other people never experience. And all the while, Kyle didn’t seem to mind at all that Margaret was by my side and not his. I guess she had worked her magic on him as well.
"Well, looks like this bottle’s done. Where’s that bottle of yours, Paul?"
"Right here."
"Okay. Hold on. I’ll go get a corkscrew and we can open it." Kyle got up and was just about to open the door to his room when Margaret spoke up.
"Aye, but ma bum hurts. Whit wi’ all the sitting oot ere on the floor. Ye’ve got some chairs inside, dinna ye?"
"Well, yeah."
"An aht comfortable bed o yers. Come on, let’s just go sit in ehre," and she stood up.
Kyle threw her a stern look, as if he didn’t want us in his room. But Margaret soon showed him her sweet smile, raised her seductive eyebrow a bit, and adjusted her shirt so that one could make out all of her luscious curves. Kyle helplessly gave in and agreed to her suggestion as he unlocked his door.
Margaret pulled me up from the floor, pressed her body firmly against mine, and gave me another wet kiss, "See? No problems, luv!"
Kyle opened his door and showed us in. His room was identical to mine, but, then again I thought, all rooms at the Dum must be. It was, after all, a hotel. Margaret ran to the bed and threw herself on it. She let out a sigh of relief. I sat in the armchair by the window and rolled a cigarette while Kyle opened the bottle of wine and poured us all a fresh glass.
"Cheers!" he said.
"Nazdraví!" I replied and we all took a sip. "Hey, you mind if I smoke in here?"
"No, no. Not at all. Go ahead," he reassured me as I lit up. He then went and sat next to Margaret on the bed.
As I lounged there in that armchair, enjoying my cigarette, the conversation from outside in the hallway struggled to continued. It began to fade only a few minutes later, right after I had snuffed my smoke. I took another long sip of wine, leaned back into the armchair’s cushions and purred into the silence, "Ahhh... This is really comfortable."
"Aye! Probably more comfortable than this stiff, ol’ bed ere!" Margaret complained.
"Come on, it’s not that bad. Look, it’s soft," Kyle jumped up and down a bit in order to showcase the mattress. "But, if you’re really not comfortable, maybe I can massage you then?"
My ears perked up. I wondered how Margaret would respond. "Well... I dinna know. But, I guess... Och, hell. Okay." Kyle immediately put hands on Margaret’s shoulders. "But maybe Paul wants a massage too. Dinna ye, luv? Come ere an sit by ma side! Ah’ll give ye yin," as she patted the empty place on the mattress beside her.
"Sounds great!" I was never one to give up a free back-rub – especially from a beautiful girl. Kyle stared at me emotionlessly as I got up from the armchair and walked to his bed. He kept rubbing Margaret’s shoulders and back as she eagerly started on mine. "Ah, this is great," I sighed. "I love this country."
Ten minutes or so later, Margaret let out an ecstatic moan, "Mon! That feels great, Kyle! Wonderful!" she rolled the R before ‘wonderful’ for a few seconds. "But I feel bad. There’s nae rubbing fur ye."
"It’s okay. I don’t mind," Kyle replied humbly.
"Na, na now. It isnae richt." Margaret got up and sat behind Kyle. As she started rubbing his back, she told me, "Sorry, luv! But it wisnae richt."
There I was. No one rubbing my back. And Margaret wasn’t even by my side anymore! Oh well, I thought, a nice ten-minute rub is better than nothing.
"Well, you know Paul," Kyle said after a few minutes of silence. "I could massage your back a bit if you want. You know," he hesitated, "If that’s alright with you."
"Well, I don’t know Kyle..."
"Come on, luv!" Margaret urged. "He’s got the hands o a saint. It feels great!"
"Well... Yeah, okay. What the fuck."
Kyle started massaging my back and soon I had no regrets. Margaret was right, this guy was like a professional masseur. I lost my inhibitions, closed my eyes, and enjoyed the moment. With streaks of pleasure running up and down my back, my mind went elsewhere. Thoughts went back to home. Back to Philadelphia. Family and friends. I wondered, What were they doing while I was enjoying life here in Prague? And old college friends down in Georgia. What were they doing? Had they gone off and started some office jobs? Had they become productive members of the economic cycle yet? At least one of them hadn’t. Luke – I was sure of that. He had escaped the Machine’s alluring grip along with me, even if only temporarily. But the others. Poor bastards. Many would look back to college, or even high school, and think that those were the best days of their lives. There was nothing more left to hope for. But I had to hand it to them. I had a great time at college too. All the newfound freedom and experiences. So many stories to tell. So many memories.
"Does it feel good?" Kyle said and brought me out of my reminiscence.
"Yeah, yeah. It’s great," I reassured him. Then it hit me. One of those college memories. A favorite. I never realized it until that moment. Something was strangely familiar.
"Ye know, Kyle, Ah cud rub yer back a lot better if ye took yer shirt off."
"Well... I don’t know," he replied. "Maybe if you take your shirt off too."
"Ma shirt!" Margaret exclaimed. "Okay. But Paul has ta come ere an rub ma back. Luv," she called to me. "Take off yer shirt then come over ere, take off ma shirt, an start rubbing me. Wud ye, luv?"
Kyle started massaging my back more intensely, more intimately. Whatthefuck began forming on my face. Then it clicked. Finally. "Hey! Hold on! I know this shit! I used to do this shit to girls back in college!" I turned around, stood up, and looked at Kyle and Margaret. They were both shocked. "I used to seduce chicks like this! ‘Hey baby. Come here and let me give you a back rub. Let’s take our shirts off. Doesn’t that feel good?’ Next thing you knew, we were doing the horizontal Rumba!" Whatthefuck was clearly on my face for both to see. "I’m the chick?! You were both trying to seduce me. Is that it?"
Kyle turned around and looked at Margaret. She had a blank look on her face. He turned back around, "Well, you know that... Um. Well, how can I put it..."
"Och, come on, luv! It’ll be fun! Just the three o us."
I looked back at Kyle. Only then did it set in how hairy he actually was. His 5pm shadow had already clearly formed and his forearms (he had rolled up his sleeves in order to rub my back) were pretty densely forested. I stepped back and looked at them both, "I don’t believe this."
They just sat there, unsure of what to do. Kyle looked at Margaret once again and then back at me. "Sooo," he interrupted the silence, "Is that a Yes, Paul?"
"What?! No! No, no. It’s definitely a No!" I went over to the table and picked up the pouch of tobacco I had left there. "I mean, if there were two girls here... Rock and Roll! But the way this is. Kyle, no offense buddy, but God no!"
"Come on, luv," Margaret beckoned me once more with her Siren’s powers. "We’ll have a blast."
But it was too late. I had ordered the sailors to tie me to the mast before we approached the island that evening. I couldn’t even move if I wanted to. The Siren could call as loudly and as beautifully as she wanted. I wasn’t budging.
"No way," I took one last gulp of wine, put the glass back on the table, and headed for the door.
"I told you we should have waited longer!" Kyle scolded Margaret as I closed the door behind me.
"Waited longer?! Kiss ma arse, ye eejit! Look at yerself! Ye’re drooling like a fucking laddie in a candy shop!"
posted by G.C. PHILO at 4:17 AM
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