Chapter 12 of Princessa

The Big Apple

Again there’s that feeling of being off-balance and like tumbling downhill from the jet lag. But the three young people make their way to a dark foggy road and start walking toward the lights of the town, hazey up ahead in the distance. “America…”says Zoltep “it’s dark, and cold.”

The princess is shivering beside him and he puts his arm around the girl as they walk down the wet dark blacktop all strange and surreal in the dense early morning fog, with the feeling like stumbling forward in a spooky dream, and any moment now about to step off the edge of the earth, and the dark black woods all full of bears and booby traps for those who don’t belong here. But somehow in the company of friends, young kids so all afraid of nothing, it’s just so cozy here in the soft embrace of the shrouding mist.

The headlights of a car slow down behind them and they scamper off the road. The driver stops the car and sticks his head out the window “hey, you kids need a lift?” “Yeah” says Andy “just back to town if that’s okay.” The driver is an older man, heading home from work at the factory. He looks at the three youngsters as they get into his car. “Where you kids from?” he asks them. “From town” says Andy. “Well what’re you doing way out here, this time a night.”

Andy can see the man is sniffing at the smell of their clothing and gives the fellow the answer he’s hoping for “we were at a party, out in the country, bunch a kids, you know.” “Yeah” says the guy “seems like that’s about all you kids do nowdays.” “You should come with us” says Andy “it’s fun.” “Yeah, well, I’m a little bit past smoking weed and partying with a bunch a kids.”

“Hey” says Andy “do you think you could maybe… give us a ride to New York?” “What, the city? That’s an hour away. It’s six in the morning; what’re y’gonna do in New York at six in the morning?” “Have breakfast. C’mon, it’ll be fun.”

The man glances into his mirror at the girl in the backseat and considers going home to his nice warm soft bed; or going off on some wild goose chase with a bunch of pot-smoking delinquents. “What the hell” he says “you kids aren’t tryin t’rob me are ya?” “If you want, we’ll get out” says Andy “just pull over, no problem; we’ll walk home.” “Ah hell” says the man “got nothin else t’do.”

He pulls over to the side of the road and turns around, then heads out toward the freeway. “Say” says Andy “could we maybe stop somewhere and get some beer?” “At this hour?” “We been up all night” says Andy, smiling, working his motif, all into character now. “Hell” says the guy “you kids, jeez… uh, I think I got a six pack in the trunk; lemme check.”

He stops the car and goes around to the back and pops open the trunk, then comes back with a half-empty twelve pack of Bud and squeezes himself back behind the wheel. He hands the container to Andy who grabs out a few and hands a couple to the kids in back. “Are they old enough?” asks the man. “Oh… uh no. Is that a problem.” “Nah” says the guy “gotta start sometime, I guess.” “You want one” he asks the man. “Yeah, what the hell, might as well.” This was gonna be an okay morning thought the man, the kinda thing you hope for everyday coming home from a boring night’s work.

“Say” he says as they get on the freeway in the misty foggy dawn “who are you kids anyway?” “My name’s Andy. That’s Maria, and Jori.” “Maria huh?” he says, looking in the mirror again “you look familiar; do I know you?”

“Uh, no” she says, trying to summon up the courage to speak English. “No, well, you look familiar anyway. What kind of a name is Yoree,” he says, looking at the young kid beside her. “Um… is name of great kings” says the boy. “You people talk funny” says the man “you sure you from Aldsburg?”

“Well, no” says Andy “we’re actually from Montreal, just… down here visiting some friends, you know, hangin out.” “Can I get birra?” says Jori. Andy hands him another one and looks at Maria who shakes her head. He opens one for himself and offers one to the driver. “Well, yeah sure” he says “I guess another one won’t hurt anything.”

The sun is all but blotted out by heavy grey fog as the approach the Holland Tunnel. “Where you kids wanna go” asks the driver. “Brodeway” says Andy imitating the old radio free Europe ads. “Okay… where on Broadway?” “Um… Times Square?” he says trying to think of someplace he’s heard of in New York.

They get there and the man parks the car. They all get out and go over to a steamy little diner. “Wow” says Jori “New Yorek Ceety… luke at beeldings Maria.” She looks up amazed as he is to be in the great American city. “They nice” she says, still feeling the swaying of the jetlag and the car ride while looking up at all the dizzying tall buildings. The boy takes a deep inhale of the city aroma as they cross the wide streets “ah chastenuts kooking, deezel exhaust, is wanterful, no.” “Eez nice” says the girl.

The crowded little diner is so warm and inviting with the cooking smells of breakfast, everyone is instantly hungry as can be. They dig into another wonderful breakfast, this time pancakes bacon eggs milk. “Thee latta ez thin” says the girl, taking a drink from the glass of milk and feeling all the more comfortable with her command of the language. “Ez okay” says Jori “I theenk they add aqua.”

Andy dials a number on his phone and tells the voice on the other end where they are. A while later as they’re finishing up their breakfast, in walks big old Smet, looking like a Russian bear in his big winter coat and funny fur hat. The girl sees him enter and runs over, throwing her arms around him “Okkie, is so good to see you.” “Ah, Cupcake” says the old man with a huge smile “what the devil are you doing here?” She hugs him tightly and kisses him on the cheek.

The driver of the car watches this with some dismay and looks at Andy. “Friend of hers?” he asks. “Her grandfather”says Andy “they haven’t seen each other in years.” Smet comes over to the counter where the others are seated. He grabs Jori and hugs him too. “Weasle, am I ever glad to see you!” he tells the boy. “Ah, and Andre” he says, hugging him too, of course “so glad you could make it.”

Andy puts his arms around the big old man and then turns to the driver “this is…” “Ed” says the man “pleased to meet you.” The three young people leave with the old man in the funny winter clothes leaving Ed alone at the counter. “Oh well” he says to himself “what did you expect. Coulda been my granddaughter I guess. Well, what the hell, maybe I’ll run into them again sometime.”

“Tell me” says Smet to the kids walking on either side of him “what on earth are you two doing here with Andre?” “Oh we wanted to see America” says Maria, happy as a little lark. “Ah yes well, here we all are” says the old man, buoyantly “all my little ones, together. Let’s go back to my place, so we can talk about things.”  

They get into his car and drive over to a modest little house in New Jersey. “I’m renting the upper floor” explains the old man “the downstairs is vacant for the time being. Didn’t expect so many guests to be coming to see me though.” “Ah Okkie, you don’t know how good it is to see you again” says Maria giving him a hug as they enter the kitchen “but first I need to take a shower, okay, and… find some clothes to put on.” “Well, the shower works alright” he says “just leave your clothes outside the door. I’ll put them in the machine in the basement.”

The girl leaves and Andy sits down at the bare table with the old man. Jori pulls up a chair and joins them. “What’s going on” says Smet, in a stern voice. “A whole lotta shit” says Andy. “You know what I mean” he says “what the fuck is Maria Salin doing here?” “We’ve been attacked” says Andy “I’ve orders from the king, to keep her safe.” “Bullshit, boy” he says grabbing him by the wrist “I want some straight answers.”

“It’s true” breaks in Jori, looking around and behind him and whispering now “the terrorists hit the palace.” “You speak when I tell you to, rodent” he says to the kid. “Look, Smet” says Andy “if you’ll just chill out for a minute, it’s gonna all make sense to you.” “You have a job” he says, and then turning to the boy “what the fuck happened to your assignment?” “What is my assignment, Smet” says the kid in a shaky voice “what am I supposed to do, huh... tell me, huh?”

Smet gets up from the table and gets a bottle of cognac and some glasses from the cupboard. “Here, have a drink” he says “get a grip.” “Jori” says Andy “go get Maria’s clothes and throw them into the machine. Hey, and put yours in too, and mine” he gets up and starts to unbutton his shirt. “Smet, you got some stuff we can get into while it’s washing?” “In the bedroom” says the man, gruffly “in the dresser.”

Andy hands him his clothes and the boy leaves. Then he sits down and drinks the cognac and pours himself another. “Well?” says Smet. Andy stretches his shoulders and neck and then lights up a cigarette. He tries his best to explain everything to the old man, telling it just the way it happened; but in recounting it, it doesn’t seem to make much, even to him; and even less to his boss.

“So” he wraps up “welcome to America.” “I’ve been here a week” says the old man “on pins and needles, feeling like a cat on a coal stove. And I’ve been worried sick, and drinking like a fish, I might add… ever since I heard.” “Well… I don’t know” says Andy “what… look, we been out a pocket, for a day or so.”

The girl walks in wearing a huge old sweater with the sleeves pushed up above her elbows. “What’s under the sweater?” asks Andy. Maria pulls up the bottom of it to show off a pair of white boxers with little red and pink flowers. The waistband is folded together around her waist and fastened with pins. “Where’s Jori” he asks. “Taking a shower” says the girl.

“How do you know him?” she asks Smet. “I… uh… recruited him” says the man. “Well, he’s a nice boy” she says “I don’t think he belongs in this… kind of work.” The old man smiles at the lovely young girl wearing his floppy old sweater and flowery underwear “no, I suppose you’re right about that.” “What were you guys talking about” she asks. “The assault” says the man. “What’ve you heard” she asks excitedly “tell me, what do you know.”

“Eight dead” he says flatly “no one important, just some palace guards. Blew a big huge hole in the hallway, right outside your bedroom, Princessa.” The girl looks down, then pours herself a glass of cognac and lights up a cigarette. She sits back in her chair with one leg up on the seat, and looks the old man in the face, wiping tears from her eyes “tell me… about Freddi.”

“Friedrich Arnstid” says the old man “nineteen years old” then he pauses, his gruff old voice cracking. “He… is dead; along with the others.” Tears rolls down the girls face as she gulps some of the cognac and brushes back her hair. Andy comes over to her, but she brushes him aside, not wanting anyone to touch her. “He was” says the old man “he was… one of your favorites, wasn’t he?”

She looks him in the eye, her face all red, wet with tears “he was just a nice boy, is all; we would talk sometimes…” and then she breaks down, sobbing. “Yeah” says Smet “he was my cousin’s boy. You didn’t know that, did you? You get some good opportunities with the right connections… and, yeah, he was nice boy, a good little futbol player when he was a kid.

“And I guess he liked you too; his mother told me once…” Smet pauses, and pours another drink, spilling some of the expensive cognac as his hands are shaking; “but all of them, the others too, I suppose, were nice boys, brave…” He takes a big drink and feels the flushing hot blood in his face “I took… I took Freddi to see a futbol game once, when he was a little boy… the World Cup, in Madrid. His face was so…” The old man suddenly can’t continue and fights to keep back the tears in awkwardly loud snuffling grunts.

“It’s okay” says Maria, going over to him “it’s okay to cry, Okkie.” She puts her arms around his neck as the two of them weep and then wipe their eyes. “I wasn’t there” cries the old man in a high-pitched voice quaking under the weight of his tears “it’s my job… protecting people… and I wasn’t there.” He drinks the glass of cognac with the girl seated on his knee.

“Forgive me” he says “head of security isn’t supposed to sob like child in front of, his little ones.” “It’s how we all feel” says Andy holding back the tears in his own voice. Jori comes back from the shower “your turn” he says to Andy. He has on a floppy white tee shirt and another pair of the old man’s boxers. “Did I miss something” he asks. Maria runs over and hugs him and kisses him on the cheek. He puts his hands on her shoulders and looks at the girl. “Just… be safe” she says to him “don’t get mixed up in this stuff.”

Andy leaves to take a shower, while the boy goes down to check on the clothes. Smet and Maria go outside and walk around in the yard of the little house. “What’s going to become of our little country” she asks him. The old man picks up the remains of some dead dried-up flowers and examines them in his hands as they crumble and fall apart “I don’t know” he tells her.

She has on his great coat and a pair of overshoes that are a dozen sizes too big. It’s like walking with empty water buckets on your feet. But the cold winter air is soothing to their eyes and after a bit they go back into the house and up the stairs to the little apartment rooms. Andy comes back from the shower wearing a white dress shirt “it’s all I could find” he says to the old man “you’re running out of clothes, and hot water too, by the way.”

Jori comes up from the basement “I put the clothes in the dryer” he says. “Good” says the old man. “Come here, all of you, sit down, children. I have something to tell you.” The three young people sit down around the table and reach for the cigarettes. “Drink” says Smet “go on, it’s good for you.” He looks at the three young faces, two of them he’s recruited and trained, and the third, the girl, he has sworn to protect with his life. Here they are, all assembled before him; his little ones as he likes to think of them.

He takes a big drink and begins “I’m a very old man...” Maria smiles, a little giddy from the strong drink “though still man enough to handle a young wench like you” he says to the girl. She leans back and laughs shaking her head.

“But when I was a young boy” he continues “long before your parents were even thought of; we were at war. The Nazis were stomping their way through our little country; and we resisted. We fought them with hunting rifles, with pitchforks, with rocks and stones and bricks, if we had to. And to no avail. We were willing to fight them to the last man, or woman or child” he says, looking at the three of them “and we often did just that.

“In one skirmish, I don’t know, out in the farm country somewhere, I was the last man standing” he pauses to take a drink and light up his pipe. “So what happened” asks the girl “did they kill you?” “Yes, you could say that” he pulls back a deep wrinkle in his forehead that might have once been a scar “they shot me, here, right here, and I fell, amongst the dead and the dying.” He pauses again. “Go on” says the boy “then what happened.”

“Well, some hours or days later, I don’t know which, but sometime anyway, I woke up and I was in this little fruit cellar at a farm place; one of those little hole in the ground dug-outs beside the house. You lift up the big wooden door and there’re steps going down; a place where people would store vegetables, potatoes, that sort of thing.

“It was cold, I remember, and dark, and I was in a little dug-out room that was hidden away by some wooden shelving where you’d store jars of canned fruits and the like. It had a plain white cloth on the back, like a curtain, and you couldn’t see through the curtain and the shelving and the jars. And the funny thing was” says the old man “there were two little girls at this farm, I don’t know, maybe they were eight years old and six years old, something like that; sisters I suppose. Anyway, I never saw anyone else there, I don’t know how I got there, even.

“But these two little children, they wore those funny long dresses and heavy colored cloth scarves around their heads, like the peasant people did in those days. Maybe those were their Sunday clothes, I don’t know. And there were beads that they wore around their necks, for some reason. But these two little kids would care for me and tend to me, changing the wrapping on my head ever so often, bathing and cleansing me with cold water from the well, I guess. And they’d feed me yogurt from a wooden spoon and talk to me like I was some kind of a doll that they played with and ‘eat now, soldier boy, eat the good yogurt’ they’d say to me, and ‘drink your milk now, drink it before it sours.’

“I don’t know how long this went on, several days maybe. I was in and out of consciousness in that dark little dirt room. I hadn’t the strength to get up off the straw that I was lying on.” He stops and takes a big drink. “Then one day… soldiers came, I could hear… the little girls screaming and crying and running as I lay there… frozen with fear. There were shots, then it was quiet, all quiet. And I lay there weeping like a little baby, hidden away in that cold dark room… and then later, much later, it was dark out, night time; and I crawled out from that little place on my hands and knees, it took all my strength… and I went to each one of those soldiers, they were drunk and sleepy from the wine and foods they’d found to eat, I guess…and I went to each one with my knife and slit their throats, one after another, seven of them in all. And each time I did that, cut their throats and felt the blood run down my arms and hands, I felt stronger and stronger.

“At sunrise... I found the two little girls, I didn’t even know their names, each one had been shot in the head, once, like executed, and they were sitting there in the farm yard leaned up against each other like two little dead dolls, all white and lifeless with black blood stains down the front of their faces. I left them there like that, and went away, but I took the beads that they wore. Here” he says lifting them out from under his sweater and shirt “these; look at them, the blood stains have long since disappeared.”

Andy gets up and walks over to the window and lights another cigarette “that’s quite a story, Smet.” “One of a thousand such stories” says the old man. Jori picks up the beads and looks at them, tears streaming down his face. ”It’s okay” says the girl “we’re gonna all be okay now.” He looks up at her “not if you’re one of those little kids” he says, and then “excuse me” as he gets up runs down the steps and out into the yard.

Maria starts to go after him but Smet puts his big hand on her shoulder “don’t” he says “leave him be.” “Why, what is it” she asks him. “You don’t know that boy. Or you either” he says to Andy. “What about him” they ask. The old man wipes his nose and leans back against the counter. “I don’t suppose he’d ever tell you” says the man “I don’t suppose he’d want me to tell you either.” “What” asks Maria.

“Well, Jori’s… well, this kid, he comes up to me, on the street in Belgrade one day, couple of years ago. I’m just out walking around, looking at the city, like a tourist, you know. And this scrawny little kid comes over, and he wants to know how much I’ll pay him for… whatever. And I might have knocked him over with the back of my hand and just been on my way, maybe should have. But there’s something about this particular kid, he looks so lost, so innocent, if you can be that, and do that. So I ask him about it, who he stays with, who he works for, that sort of thing. And he takes me to meet this fellow, a fat slimy sort of fellow, and we argue and I break the man’s neck, with my two hands, like that. So… I tell the kid to run along, be off, but he says no, says he has no place to go now, no one to take care of him now. So he comes with me; and I give him a job... Is what I get, for interfering in other people’s lives I guess.”

Maria goes over to Smet and takes his hand “he’s a good kid” she tells him. “Yeah, he’s a good kid, but he’s got a lot of scars and a lot of… pain, and hurt.” “So, you having sex with little boys now, Smet” asks Andy, a bit stung by hearing these things about the boy’s past. “No, not with little boys” says the old man, and then looks at Maria “maybe with little girls, but not little boys.”

“Well you might have been… considerate enough to tell me” says Andy “some background information on… one of my operatives.” “Is that what you want to hear? Is that the kind of information you want to know about. Then go ask the boy; I imagine he’s got stories that would make your blood run cold.” “No” says Andy “no, I don’t want to hear them. I think we’ve heard enough sad stories for one day.”

He looks at the girl, standing there with her back to him and looking out the window in her big floppy sweater. “Hey Smet” says Andy “we gotta get some clothes to wear.” “Good idea” says the girl turning around toward him “let’s go out and go do something.” She opens up the window and calls down to the boy “hey Jori, we’re gonna go shopping, c’mon.” “Wait” says the old man “isn’t there supposed to be some… kind of lesson in the things I told you?” “Too many people die in your stories” says the girl “I don’t want to hear anymore of them.”