Katerina Read online

  You ready, TankTop?

  Shut up.

  I pretend to throw a punch, he flinches.

  You ready, SausageBoy?

  Shut the fuck up.

  After I kick your ass, I’m going to find your local Christmas Festival and take a shit on your mama’s apple strudel.

  He charges, throws a punch at me, as he does I kick him in the shin with the steel toe of my boot. We both land. A kick to the shin is a brutally effective and entirely unexpected fighting technique, and the waving of my hands and the blabber from my mouth was to distract him from its imminent arrival. He starts screaming, falls to the ground. A punch to the eye, and in this case, specifically to my eye, is also an effective fighting technique, and I stumble backward, my balance gone, most of what remains of my consciousness gone. His friend and the two Irish are immediately on me, throwing punches, kicking. I do the only thing I can, which is fall down and curl up in a ball and hope it ends soon. They punch me, kick me, punch me some more, kick me some more. Head face ribs arms shoulders stomach thighs back of the thighs, one of them kicks me on the side of my ass, which hurts immensely. I don’t know how long it lasts, maybe fifteen or twenty seconds, but it feels like a decade or two. I hear some yelling, the word stop in both French and English, hear TankTop screaming about his leg, Omer telling them to leave or he’ll call the police, hear them telling Omer to go fuck himself. I lie on the ground, curled up, in pain, everything hurts, my ears are ringing, I can feel blood running down the side of my face. I feel a presence looming over me, hear Omer asking me if I’m okay, feel his hand on my back, asking me again if I’m okay. And despite every part of my body hurting like a motherfucker, especially the side of my ass, which feels like someone drove a rusty iron spike into it, and despite the fact that I’m bleeding and can feel my eye swelling, I am okay. Physical pain passes. With enough drink, and enough drugs, I won’t feel anything. And the physical pain is nothing compared to the pain I inflict on myself. Hit me kick me beat me I don’t care. You can’t hurt me as much as I’ve already hurt myself.

  I uncurl, sit up. I blink my eyes about fifty times, everything is blurry. I look around see the street the streetlights cars people walking past people staring I see Omer smiling at me, I see people standing along the edge of the large French doors that lead into the bar. Everything fucking hurts I wipe my hand along the edge of my eye it comes back red I can feel the eye swelling. I laugh. What a fight. Got my ass kicked, but it was fun. And the look on TankTop’s face when I told him I was gonna shit on his mama’s strudel, openmouthed big-eyed surprise, followed by rage, it was worth it just for that. And no real damage, nothing that will be visible in a week.

  Omer offers me his hand and I take it he helps me stand fuck it all hurts everything hurts. He smiles, speaks.

  You’re a good boy.

  I need a fucking drink.

  He laughs.

  Whatever you want.

  Triple Jack and Coke.

  I’ll bring you two.

  We step toward the bar.

  How bad is my face?

  Small cut, you’ll probably have a black eye.

  Where did they go?

  He points toward place Saint-Michel.

  That way.

  Another step, two.

  You got my rose?

  Yeah.

  Can you bring it with the drinks?

  He laughs.

  Of course.

  I sit in the first available chair I see. Take out my cigarettes. Omer pats my back, which hurts, says he’ll be right back. I light a cigarette, take a deep drag, lean back in the chair, pick up a napkin, press it against the cut at the corner of my eye. My heart is still pounding, it will take a while to slow down, a couple of the other regulars come over to shake my hand and laugh and see if I’m okay, they compliment me on my shin-kick move, as soon as Omer comes back with the drink I take half of it in a single swallow the whiskey burns and the sugar soothes and I’m slightly better. I sit with the regulars for a while, we keep laughing, wonder where TankTop is now, eventually they drift back to their own tables their own shadows their own loneliness and pain, they drift back to their own alcoholism and misery. I finish my drink have another, everything hurts less, I don’t get out of my chair except to piss, I smoke and watch people walk past and slowly make my way toward oblivion, toward the darkest darkness.

  I don’t know what time it is but the crowds are thinning. It’s deep night, when the only people out are looking for something. Looking for drink, looking for drugs, looking for sex or love, looking for a friend, looking for a fight, looking for trouble or adventure, looking for enlightenment or damnation, looking for sin, looking to find something everything whatever they can find, looking. I love the night, love the darkness, the simplicity, the menace, the possibility, the emptiness, the heaviness, the stillness, the quiet, the echoes, streets with no cars and parks with no people, buildings with no lights and vacant trains still running, my mind is clear my heart pure I feel everything more deeper truer in the deep hours of the darkest night I love.

  I look down at the cracked broken scarred sidewalk laugh about my dumb fight reach for my glass it’s cold and sweating almost empty I move the glass toward my lips and I look up and I see her.

  Long red hair heavy and flowing.

  Light-brown eyes like cocoa.

  Pouty lips like cherry pie.

  Smiling.

  Walking toward me.

  Smiling.

  Some kind of little white designer dress.

  Smiling.

  Adidas sneakers.

  Smiling.

  I smile and raise a hand smile wider I’m happy to see her so happy I kept the rose safe I smile wider and stand everything hurts I smile and stand she speaks.

  Writer Boy.

  I smile.

  Model Girl.

  What the fuck happened to you?

  I laugh.

  Got in a fight.

  Ten feet away both smiling.

  I guess you lost?

  Laugh again.

  Yeah.

  Five feet away.

  How’d the other guy look?

  There were four of them.

  She laughs.

  You fucking idiot.

  She steps into me, kisses me, softly no tongue her lips on the edges of mine moving slightly I can feel her breath and smell fading perfume, I reach for her hand and take it she kisses me softly whispers

  I heard you were looking for me.

  I was.

  What do you need?

  This.

  So I can go?

  No.

  Please?

  No.

  Pretty please?

  Whatever you want.

  She smiles so close her breath on my lips and cheek the smell of fading perfume her hand in mine our eyes open pale green and light-brown cocoa into each other our eyes. I move the rose into her hand, she takes it.

  I got you a rose.

  I saw it in your hand, I was wondering.

  Now you know.

  Why do I get such a sweet and wonderful gift?

  Because you make my heart beat faster.

  She puts her free hand on my chest, above my heart.

  I can feel it.

  Good.

  She takes my hand, puts it on her chest.

  Can you feel mine?

  Yes.

  Also beating faster.

  Yes.

  You like that, Writer Boy?

  I do, Model Girl.

  She kisses me, softly, the tip of her tongue on my lips, on my tongue, slowly, dancing, slowly dancing. It’s a long kiss fifteen seconds, thirty, we keep our eyes open stare lock hands both of our hands we kiss our lips and tongue and breath slowly, softly dancing, our hearts beating faster, a kiss for a minute she smiles and pulls away.

  Can I stay awhile?

  I’d dig that.

  Get a chair for me?

  Take mine.

  I step away from her, from
my chair, motion for her to sit in it.

  You want a drink?

  Champagne?

  Doubt they have it, but I’ll ask.

  If not, one of whatever you’re having.

  I walk into the bar, almost everyone in it is in oblivion, I ask Omer if he has champagne he tells me he has one bottle. I ask him if I can trade the bottle for one of my free nights he sees Katerina sitting outside, smiles.

  For her?

  Yeah.

  You know her?

  Yeah.

  Girlfriend?

  No.

  Potential girlfriend?

  Maybe.

  And this will help you?

  Probably.

  Have you fucked her?

  Fuck off, man.

  I want to know.

  Fuck off.

  He laughs.

  Just wanted to see if you actually liked her.

  Now you know.

  He turns around opens a small refrigerator, pulls out a bottle of Freixenet, which isn’t real champagne and is something slightly tastier than carbonated horse piss. He sets it on the counter in front of me.

  You know how to open it?

  Yeah.

  He sets two glasses next to the bottle.

  I’ll expect details.

  I laugh.

  Fuck off.

  I pick up the bottle and the glasses walk back set them down on the table pull a chair from another table sit down next to Katerina, next to Katerina, she smiles.

  Got me the good stuff.

  I laugh.

  All they had.

  She grabs the bottle, tears off the foil, looks around, speaks.

  Pick a target.

  What do you mean?

  I’m an expert corkswoman. Could blast a fly off a horse’s ass from fifty feet. Pick a target.

  I smile look around. Polly’s is half-empty, no tourists, streets almost entirely empty. A man passed out in the corner, a few solitary drinkers, a couple men with drinks and books, a couple arguing over something I can’t hear them, two middle-aged businessmen sitting inside playing chess, one of them who’s wearing a hat is nodding off his head falling until he wakes up startled, awake until his head starts falling again. I know them by face, though not by name, they come in once a week and play chess and drink, they don’t talk to anyone but each other, by the time they’re done neither can walk or talk, I have no idea where they go or how. Katerina sees me looking at them and smiles.

  I won’t hurt him.

  She holds the bottle, expertly weighs it in her hands, gives it a slight shake. She points the neck of the bottle toward the man as he’s nodding off again she gradually eases the cork out of it until

  Pop.

  The cork flies across the entrance of Polly and into the bar, and just as the man’s head falls, the cork hits the brim of his hat, knocking the hat off his head and onto the chess set, the pieces all fall. The man jumps, shocked, knocks the table over, sending his drink and his friend’s drink and the chess set onto the other man’s lap. That man jumps, his lap covered with beer, and starts yelling. The other man is on his knees looking for his hat. I look at Katerina, who is watching them, and smiling and giggling, and I speak.

  That was fucking amazing.

  She turns to me, smiles.

  I wish we had another bottle.

  I laugh.

  Me too.

  She stands, the man has his hat back on his head, his friend is still yelling at him, he’s looking around trying to figure out what happened, she picks up the bottle.

  Let’s get out of here.

  Already been in one fight tonight.

  Would you defend me?

  I would.

  Such a sweet boy.

  She kisses my cheek, I laugh, she takes my hand, we start walking away.

  Into the night

  The darkness

  The possibility

  Hands held

  Smiling

  A bottle of champagne

  The night

  And the darkness

  Empty streets and a clear black sky.

  Possibilities.

  Don’t Tell

  * * *

  When you’re young

  They don’t tell you

  That life

  No matter how it works out

  For good or bad

  Rich or poor

  Happy or not

  Life

  Never really changes

  You will always feel

  Lost

  Confused

  Insecure

  And alone

  Like a failure

  Like you could do more

  Be better

  Smarter

  Work harder

  Like everyone knows something

  You

  Don’t

  Know

  As if redemption or joy or security

  Is right around the corner

  As if

  Someday

  Everything will be okay

  When you’re young

  They don’t tell you

  That no matter

  Whether

  You find

  What you’re looking for

  Get

  What you want

  Earn

  What you need

  That no matter

  Whether

  You make your dreams

  Big or small

  Reasonable or outlandish

  Private or public

  Come true

  That you will never feel

  Safe

  Loved

  Accepted

  Comfortable

  Strong

  Sure

  Serene

  Satisfied

  Whole

  Complete

  That whatever happiness you know

  Will be

  Fleeting

  Vanishing

  Like mist

  A mirage

  Streams of the warm summer sun

  Like a song

  You hear it

  Feel it

  Lose yourself in it

  You’re delighted

  Inspired

  Rapturous

  You stop thinking

  Or knowing

  You just feel

  Until it ends

  Until it ends

  And

  It

  Always

  Ends

  When you’re young

  They don’t tell you

  That your heart will break

  And

  It

  Will

  Never

  Heal

  That

  Your heart

  Will break

  Again and again

  Again and again

  Your heart will break

  Again

  And

  Again

  And it will

  Never heal

  Never

  Never

  When you’re young

  They don’t tell you

  So you believe

  You believe

  You believe

  When you’re young

  Paris, 1992

  * * *

  Lying in bed my arms around her we’re face-to-face her arms around me our heads on the same pillow our eyes open staring into each other open. Louis isn’t home. It’s late morning the heat is already up neither of us is wearing anything, there’s a simple white sheet covering our bodies. She leans forward, kisses me softly, licks my lips with the tip of her tongue, playfully bites my lower lip. I smile as she moves away, I speak.

  Good morning, Katerina.

  Good morning, Jay.

  Kind of a wonderful way to wake up.

  You like it?

  I do.

  Want more of it?

  Yes.

  Yes?

  Yes.

  She smiles.

  Yes.

  I smile she moves f
orward, lips, tongues, breath, hands moving, legs wrapping around each other the white sheet goes away she rolls me over she’s on top of me holds my arms down kisses my neck licks my ear her nipples rubbing against my chest hard she whispers

  Do you like this, Jay?

  Yes.

  Want more of it?

  Yes.

  Holding my arms down licking my ear kissing my neck she moves down whispers

  Don’t move.

  She kisses my neck chest nipples her tongue circling around I shudder a wave of ecstasy moves through me her lips and tongue on my stomach lower her hands on my chest I shudder the insides of my thighs shudder takes me into her hand speaks.

  You ready, Jay?

  Yes.

  Tell me.

  I’m ready, Katerina.

  Her hand is moving slowly up and down slowly our eyes are locked.

  Ready for what?

  You.

  Me.

  Yes.

  Runs her tongue slowly from base to tip shudder.

  Ready for this?

  Yes.

  Say please.

  Please.

  Tongue around the tip eyes locked hands down she takes me into her mouth I shudder she moves slowly up and down our eyes locked slowly

  Up.

  Slowly.

  Down.

  Shudder.

  She never looks away I want to close my eyes lose myself in sensation and joy lose myself in her lips and tongue but we stay locked I shudder again and again she moves slowly up and down I shudder. She lifts her head smiles.

  Like that, Jay?

  Love.

  What else do you want?

  Everything.

  She moves up, her hands running up my arms, her body up my body.

  Everything?

  Yes.

  Yes.

  Yes.

  Yes.

  She kisses me lifts her hips reaches down moves me toward her, lower her hips I’m at the edges almost in her and I can feel her wet almost inside, almost, she speaks.

  Is this what you want?

  You know.

  Tell me.

  Yes.

  Tell what me you want.

  To be inside you.

  Me.

  Yes.

  She smiles she’s over me and on top of me holding my arms down at the wrists our eyes are locked she lowers her hips I raise mine I move inside her inside warm and wet and tight and calm and peaceful and ecstatic and joyous I softly moan she moans our eyes are locked she whispers

  How’s that feel, Jay?