The Party (Book Excerpt #2)

I met her at a friend’s party. I forgot what the occasion was. ‘Enter Sandman’ was blaring and Arak was flowing like water. She was beautiful. Deep reddish-brown hair (natural), blood red lips, pale white skin and crystal blue eyes. While tits and ass and legs certainly have their merits, it’s always the eyes that closed the deal for me. I sat down next to her in the crowded living room. I was nursing a watered down Arak and watching some boring game show on the TV. She leaned over and said:
  “The women are buying their own drinks at Papillon’s tonight.”
I laughed. The room was full of Arabs, a few Persians and one or two Armenians. Smoking, drinking, arguing, laughing, playing backgammon. I got a visual of the owner of Papillon’s looking out over an empty banquet hall, scratching his head and cursing, and laughed again.
  “Polina.”
She offered her hand.
  “Heiko.”
I returned mine.
  “Heiko’s an unusual name. Where are you from?”
  “Germany.”
She winced.
  “Is there a problem?”
  “I’m Russian. I’m not too fond of Germans.”
I frowned.
  “I’m sorry. Maybe I can open up a peace dialogue by offering you some chips and dip.”
She laughed then gave me one of the most beautiful smiles I’d seen.
  “No Fritos.”
  “Wouldn’t dream of it. Be right back.”
I got up and scooped a handful of Doritos and french onion dip on a plate. I went to the kitchen and dumped the rest of my Arak in the sink and grabbed a Sprite. As I was walking back, I was surprised to notice that no one else had sat next to Polina. No one was talking to her. Maybe because she was different than everyone else. Who knew? I was glad though.
  “Here you go.”
  “Thank you. So what are the terms of the peace agreement?”
  “Well, if dialogues go well, there may be another plate of chips and dip in your future.”
She laughed. I got butterflies in my stomach. God I was easy. Get a beautiful girl with beautiful eyes and a beautiful smile who shows a modicum of interest and I melt like cheap wax.
  “I’ll tell you what, you make it a plate of some of that falafel and hummous and you may have yourself a treaty.”
  “You got it.”
I got up to fix her her plate.
  “Where are you going?”
  “To prepare your tribute.”
  “How do you know that I’ll be receptive or refrain from hostilities?”
  “I’ll take my chances.”
She blushed. Our eyes locked for a few seconds and my stomach did loop-de-loops.

I went back into to kitchen. My friend Farouk, the host of the party, was staring into the fridge.
  “Hey Freddy, where’s the falafel?”
  “It’s in the stove keeping warm. Want a beer?”
  “No. You know I hate beer.”
  “You’re the only German I know that doesn’t drink beer.”
  “Please. How many Germans do you know?”
  “A few. And you’re the only one of them that hates beer.”
  “It’s in the script.”
  “Huh?”
  “It’s in the script.”
  “What the hell does that mean?”
  “Nothing. Where’s the lettuce, tomato and tahini?”
  “Right here.”
He pulled a plate out of the fridge and handed it to me.
  “So how do you like the party?”
  “Not bad. You’re killing me with the Metallica blaring non-stop, but otherwise it’s cool. I met this really nice chick in the living room.”
  “Who?”
  “Polina.”
  “Who’s Polina?”
  “I thought she was a friend of yours.”
  “No. I don’t know her… oh wait. Dude, I think she came with a friend of mine.”
  “Male friend or female friend?”
  “Male. I think she’s his date, dude.”
My heart sank.
  “Stop calling me dude.”
He flipped me off. I prepared her plate with a faint hope that she came with a female friend.

She was still sitting alone, looking bored (I took it as a good sign). When she caught a glimpse of me walking back, she smiled again. I got butterflies again. I told myself to stop doing that because I knew that if she were taken, I’d be crushed… as sensitive as I am, and as easily as I attach to attentive women.
  “You made it. I was beginning to think you’d slipped out a window or something.”
  “Sorry. I ran into Farouk in the kitchen and we were discussing the anomaly of beer-hating Germans.”
  “What was the conclusion?”
  “Apparently I’m the only one on the planet.”
Smile.
  “So Mr. Heiko. What brought you to the States?… assuming you weren’t born here.”
  “I wasn’t. Just like a lot of people, my father thought he’d become a millionaire in America.”
  “How did that turn out?”
  “It didn’t. I hated him for bringing us here. I didn’t want to leave my extended family and friends.”
She made a sad face; had I not been into her, I’d have thought it was patronizing, but then she put her hand on my knee and said, “I’m sorry.” My knee instantly burst into flames and my heart nearly beat out of my chest.
  “Right now I’m not cursing his decision.”
She blushed and turned her head away slightly. Shit! Did I go to far? Why did she put her hand on my knee? She sneezed. I was relieved. She picked up one of the napkins on the table and daintily wiped her nose. My face got warm and suddenly the room was empty. It was just me and Polina. Though my ears started ringing, I could hear my own breathing. I could feel my palms sweating. I, discretely as possible, wiped them on my thighs.
Polina’s lips were moving but I heard nothing. She cocked her head and looked at me strangely. She was asking me a question and waiting for my response. I regained my senses with an almost audible “whoosh”.
  “I’m sorry?”
  “How do you say ‘bless you’ in German?”
  “Gesundheit.”
  “Oh! That’s right. Does it literally mean ‘bless you’?”
  “No. It means ‘health’. As in ‘I wish you health’”
She smiled and squeezed my knee again. I felt like I was going to faint.
  “So what’s your story, Polina?”
  “What do you mean?”
  “I mean where are you from? What do you do? What are the course of events that have brought you here to this couch?”
  “Well, I was born in Leningrad- which just became St. Petersburg again. My father was a civil engineer. I guess kind of the opposite of your father’s aspirations, his ambition drove him to uproot his family. Pulling strings, he moved us to Pilsen, Czechoslovakia- where he was a big fish in a small pond rather than a goldfish in the ocean.”
She seemed pleased with her joke.
  “Have you heard of Pilsen?”
  “No. Is it nice?”
  “It’s a small town outside of Prague and is famous for it’s Pilsner breweries. I’m surprised that you, as a German, don’t know it.”
  “I hate beer, remember?”
  “Ah yes. Anyway, we lived there for about 15 years. My father died and my mother moved us back to Russia to be closer to relatives. She was killed by mobsters when she tried to organize our neighborhood to shut down a local whore house.”
  “Wow. I’m really sorry.”
She shrugged. I grabbed her hand and she closed her fingers around mine.
  “I have to say your English, is amazing. I can barely detect an accent.”
  “But you CAN detect one.”
  “A very, very slight one. I almost have to strain to hear it.”
She smiled.
  “Thanks. I studied it for years in Prague. A cousin of mine who worked for the BBC in London would also send me videotapes of American shows like Batman & Robin and The Munsters, as well as the Rocky and Bullwinkle cartoons.”
We both laughed.
  “I had the best command of 50’s and 60’s American slang in all of Pilsen.”
I laughed again. I really liked this girl….

  “Baby!”
My heart skipped, startled. Polina quickly let go of my hand. I looked up and noticed a thin, tall, dark, hairy guy walking towards us. I recognized him from the InCAR meetings at PCC. Manwan. Manwar. Manoo. What the hell was his name?
  “Hey baby. This is Heiko, my new friend.”
  “Koko! What’s up dude?!”
I hated being called dude.
  “You know each other?”
  “Sure. I’ve hung with Koko many times at those meetings I was telling you about.”
Truth was we’d nodded at each other a few times in passing. There was no friendship. In fact, he always rubbed me the wrong way with his disingenuous sincerity. I hated the familiarity that some Middle Easterners feigned to make themselves feel big; well known and liked. I also hated that he called me by my nickname. Worst of all, I hated that he was her boyfriend. I’d seen this dickhead on the make many times; trying to dazzle some ‘progressive’ chick’s pants off with his dazzling sensitivity and cultural awareness. I felt physically ill that it worked on Polina. My heart broke.

CRACK! Farouk ran out of the kitchen into the living room and started swearing at Pascal, a mutual friend, who’d just broken the leg off a chair to impress his friends with his display of strength.
  “What the fuck are you doing asshole!”
Pascal just stood there grinning like an idiot. He was high again.
  “Get the fuck out, motherfucker!”
Farouk grabbed him by his sleeve, pulled him to the door and threw his ass down the steps. I heard a few “ughs”, “ahs” and then a crash when he hit one of the bikes at the bottom of the stairs. Polina looked horrified. Mannymoe just stood there cracking up. He walked to the door and looked down the stairs, laughing the whole time. Farouk tried to close the door but couldn’t because that dick was standing in the doorway busting a gut. Polina looked really embarrassed. Farouk cursed at him in Arabic and he finally moved. The door was slammed. Everybody got real quiet. Trying to hide the anger in his voice, Farouk yelled:
  “Who wants another fucking beer?! I sure as hell do!”

Conversation and party gaieties resumed. Mannymoe walked back to the couch shaking his head and laughing, but before he could reach us, Polina stood up and huffed to the kitchen. He genuinely seemed surprised that she was upset.
  “Women, huh?”
I didn’t respond.
  “So what do you think of my girl?”
I wanted to say ‘You don’t deserve her, you fuck!’ but just said:
  “She’s very nice.”
He nodded.
  “The best piece of ass a man could ask for.”
I felt my neck and cheeks getting hot. I mulled over the idea of grabbing that chair leg that Pascal broke off and bashing his head in, but thought better of it. Instead I pretended someone was calling me from across the room and got up.
  “See you at the meeting on Tuesday.”
I grunted at him and called him a ‘fucker’ under my breath. He cornered some chick near the tv and was on the make again. Slime.
I walked into the kitchen. Polina wasn’t there. I grabbed a handful of pretzels and Farouk walked in with the pieces of the chair.
  “That asshole was coked out of his skull again.”
I nodded.
 “I don’t understand him, Kok. Sober, he’s the nicest, sweetest, most genuinely sensitive guy I know. His parents give him everything he wants but he’s still depressed, so he’s constantly lit- which is when he becomes a gigantic idiot. I don’t understand it.”
  “It’s in the script.”
  “What the fuck does that mean Koko?! You keep saying that!”
  “It doesn’t mean a thing.”
He didn’t hear me. He was absorbed by the wreckage of his chair. He shook his head sadly.
  “My mother bought this chair.”
His mother died of lupus a few years ago. Farouk took it very, very hard. I put my hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze.
  “I’m gonna take off Freddy.”
  “Alright bro. Thanks for coming.”
He was still staring at the wreckage.
  “I want to say bye to Polina. You know where she is?”
  “Who?”
  “Polina. Laughing boy’s girl.”
  “Oh. She’s in the bathroom.”
I gave him a pat on his back and walked to the bathroom. I put my ear to the door and heard muffled sniffling; like she was crying. I knocked.

  “Just a minute.”
  “Polina, it’s Heiko. I’m leaving but wanted to say goodbye.”
She unlocked the door and I walked in. She closed the door behind me and locked it. She had been crying. Some of her mascara ran down her cheek.
  “I just wanted to tell you I had a really good time getting to know…”
She grabbed my face with both hands and planted her lips on mine. My knees nearly buckled. She kissed me for a long time. No tongue. Just lips. Hard. She hugged me tight while she did. Almost as if she were holding on for protection. I kind of felt the same way. Protected in her embrace. Strange. I’d just met her less than an hour earlier. Still. It was soothing. Warm. After what seemed like 20 minutes (but was more likely two) she pulled away… taking a piece of skin from my lip with her. My lip started bleeding. I just stood there staring at her, dumbfounded. She said nothing. She grabbed a few squares of toilet paper, wet them in the sink and dabbed at my lip gently. I swear I could have burst into tears then if she’d said anything. She threw the toilet paper away, washed the evidence of crying off her face, dried it, put her hand on my left cheek, kissed my right and walked out the door. I stood there… looking at my reflection in the mirror.
Someone knocked on the door.
  “Hold up. I’ll be right out.”
I flushed and ran the water in the sink to make it sound like I was finishing up. I opened the door and walked out. My friend Greg was leaning against the wall, waiting.
  “Hey Koko. What’s up?”
  “Same old shit.”
He laughed. It hadn’t occurred to me that given my exit from the bathroom, that comment seemed amusing.
  “I hope you lit a match.”
  “Nah. I marinade in my stink. Much like life.”
Greg frowned.
  “Alright then. I’m off to pinch a loaf.”
  “Happy baking.”
I walked down the hallway into the living room. Polina was standing by laughing boy. He had his arm around her. They were talking to Farouk and laughing.
  “You’re still here. Freddy told me you took off.”
I looked at Polina.
  “I had to use the bathroom.”
She averted my gaze. The phone rang.
  “I gotta go. Thanks again for inviting me Freddy.”
The phone kept ringing. Freddy put his cigarette in his mouth and shook my hand.
  “Later Koko.”
The phone rang some more.
  “It was a pleasure meeting you Polina.”
I reached out for her hand. She offered me a weak handshake. Embarrassed. The phone rang and rang. I nodded at Mannymoe and walked towards the door. The phone was ringing so loud, the sound was bouncing off the inside of my skull. I heard nothing else.