That was how I lived at night, it lived in me, through me. Rising up out of the dark pit to find my loved one gone and a pendulum swishing through the air.
But I also knew if I stayed down there in the depths, fleeing the sneer of the one that I loved, I would never return.
Well that sucks, she said. Should I leave?
No.
My mate, my unearthly star, the one who gathers up the ashes of my heart, my sparkling jewel, made breakfast. A couple of times we even went out. To look at the Czech kings’ graves, for instance. She’d never seen them before. She quickly picked up my habits, tapping her ashes into the coffee grounds too. Sometimes she washed the dishes. I guess it was like being married. I let her go through my wardrobe and look at She-Dog’s clothes. She didn’t think much of them.
This one’s too modern. An this one … too postmodern. This is cool, she triumphantly whipped out a white, polka-dotted dress … the one She-Dog wore to her confirmation.
That evening I’d come home after some especially unproductive talks with the board of an aluminum factory … had to convince em we were shooting a film about the Vietnamese. Talk about stupid, who’d be interested. I buttered them up though. What a drag. Better to go with the envelope strategy, like I did with the Organization. But I oughta explain, this was real fast work … I had no idea when Vohřecký would turn up again, and whenever I asked Smoothy where he was shipping his foundlings to, he’d just laugh and launch into his horror stories … I didn’t have time to figure out who to give the envelope to, the boss or the janitor … so I could find out.
One day I walked through a gate … it was near the Austrian border, and despite the barbwire fence all around the dorm, the wheeling and dealing proceeded unchecked … I walked up with an armful of stockings, guard stretched out his hand, gave him a pair of kneesocks or two … lively place, I tripped on a bone and rammed into a baby carriage, the tot started bawlin, I was intrigued … rocked the little shaver and sang him a tune, a teeny-weeny half-breed … damn, what’ll he speak … the hallway was plastered with busty singers, giant white women, and yep: Bruce Lee with nunchuks, he was all over the place … three guys came up and I suddenly forgot the name of the fella we were after … left the stockings there. Smoothy wrote it down on a piece of paper, I went back. Get lost, said the guard, this time empty-handed. Crime unit, I told him with delight and an exclamation point, flashing my ID. He didn’t look sure … I shoved the paper at one of the three … waiting faithfully by the stockings, studying the Latin characters … Whe’e Mis’er Viet who wri’e dis? Out in the car. You ou’ frien’, ti? Huh? Ti, li’e drink? All right, thanks, just for a minute.
In the room the television mesmerized. Couple guys loungin in sweats on the beds, sound turned off on the TV, I looked at the pictures, my new hosts … weren’t like the Laosters, who’d come illegally, true, but it wasn’t the same … some, caught up in the folklore, merrily flung themselves onto the path … the sweats, the TV, I sucked in the air … weariness, flat beer, and nasty questions, all boiling down to a very unsettling one underlying it alclass="underline" What’re we doing here? What next? Where else? And why?
Couple a them got up and slipped out, I noticed, a machete lay under the bed, dust balls all around, but not a speck on it … right, in this place, surrounded by wire … and this here was slavery and the tea was nice and hot.
Peered out the window and all at once the gate opened and a cop car pulled up in front of the dorm, guard hustled over eagerly, guess I didn’t fool him … picked myself up, my hosts, catching on to my motion, very quickly and understandingly got to their feet … no worry, no worry, said one, leadin me down the hall to a window, washroom was pretty wild, showerheads torn outta the wall like there’d been some kinda battle … wash, here, what for? in these kindsa places people gave up on more than just keepin clean, I squeezed through the window and jumped … hunched down in the nettles, bolted out back, cut through some woods toward the car, came out on the road … one of the ones I’d given the paper to was sittin in the ditch, head on his chest, the other two had Smoothy sandwiched … I broke into a run, they scuffled without a word … I let loose: Hola ho! They jumped back, saw it was me, took off, but I blew right by em, hopped in the car, and as soon as I sensed the gasping Smoothy — after all those trips, we knew each other by sound — climb in back, I stepped on it.
We drove in silence. I was just starting to wonder whether Cerná had any cash, maybe enough to get to Vienna, Budapest … anywhere, when Smoothy said: Stop the car. I did, under a bridge, figured maybe he was wounded or somethin … but then someone knocked at the window, it was that Vietnamese I’d seen in the ditch … I yelped, clutching the wheel, but Smoothy patted me on the shoulder: Why, that’s the gentleman! Things have worked out beautifully today. That’s Captain Zueng … or something like that.
Great, Smoothy, whatever you want, but I’m pullin off for some coffee.
It was truly a beautiful roadside restaurant. The Vietnamese were refused service and I couldn’t use the toilet. Since I wouldn’t order without them. We drove on, Smoothy chuckling and jabbering away with his new acquisition, and me … I was ashamed. Even if it ended up the only … manly act of my life. I pulled a U-turn and started back in the other direction. Mr. Potok, ahem, said Smoothy … we have a mission, there is no point in getting upset … motherfuckers, bloated dumplings, I fumed … screw the mission, Smoothy … this is the mission, I’ll crush him, I muttered, picturing the waiter in my mind … worthless bum, half-wit European mishmash, talks like a TV show, dreamless heathen … a Czech pig, one of millions … I pushed that machine like a horse outta hell … Smoothy tried to reason with me: But Mr. Potok, that will not give us satisfaction … the captain kept quiet, sittin there in his jumpsuit, probably couldna cared less … who we were after … I parked the car, flew in there … not a sign of the waiter … I ran into the toilet, the kitchen … Who’re you looking for? a short blonde girl asked kindly, reminded me of Elsa … uhh, he’s not here, I went into the dining room … Smoothy and the captain were at a table drinking beer, heads still foamy … they do an outstanding svíčková here, I’ll take mine with six dumplings, and for the captain here as well, have a seat, Mr. Potok, now now, as the driver perhaps you shouldn’t … I pounded down his beer.
It was an outstanding idea to come back, you show great initiative, the general is very pleased with you … then Smoothy started in with an analysis of the Czech Foreign Ministry’s current policy vis-à-vis the Communist states of Southeast Asia, he knew from experience that had a soporific effect on me … the captain fed his face … I started laughing … the blonde bustled past, back and forth … Mr. Smoothy, tell me one thing … Yes, of course, that is what I am here for, my dear friend … Who’m I workin for?
You are working for a just cause, have no doubts, and by the way you have not heard the story of the captain here yet, he is a pilot, and when he came home from the reeducation camp after fifteen years … you see his mother was head of the Religious Confederation in Hue, and when the captain returned to the house where he was born, in a little village, his mother was out in the field, hanging … you see the Communists had crucified her …
Černá sat there, music playing, candles on the table, waiting for me. She had the white dress on and a different hairdo. Up in a knot. I took the dress off her, didn’t go easy on the thing, it wasn’t important to me anymore, she just took a quick look but liked it, we fell on the bed and made love … and from that moment on I stopped having those dreams. It’s great, I said … And it’ll stay that way, she said. Long as you don’t have anyone … No, just you … I was thinkin, that dress belongs to somebody. Where is she? … It’s just a dress now. And you’re on your own? … Yeah … What do you say we go out some time, some night? Yeah. If you’re thinkin about that guy you beat up, he’s all right now. You don’t hafta hide. He’s gone. I know. So why’re you holed up here, I mean … I’m takin a break, you know. Just tired … Uh-huh.