by Endre Farkas
“Patchouli,” he said.
“Umm, Old Spice,” she said, leaning in.
They laughed. She went to the record player and rifled through the LPs. Chet Baker ’Round Midnight, she said as she placed the needle on the disc. A mellow trumpet, smoky and smooth, filled the candle-lit room.
“It’s like the music at The Prague. What kind is it?” Tommy asked.
“Cool jazz.”
She took out a joint from a little marble box on the coffee table and lit it. He toked, just the right amount, and leaned to kiss her. She opened her lips and breathed it in. The music danced with the undulating flame.
His tongue played along her moist open lips, tasting them. She opened them more. Like an explorer in a new world his tongue slowly entered and met hers. He had Frenched before but with other girls it was like pushing and shoving, trying to get into a well-guarded fort. Hers felt welcoming. He was so focused on the pleasure of it that he wasn’t conscious of his fingers sliding down her face, along her throat to the front of her blouse. He became aware only when she placed her palm on his. He felt her breasts rise and fall. He felt heat seep through his palm, travel through his body to his crotch, where it became something else.
Only once had he almost gotten to second base. He remembered how clumsy he was trying to undo buttons, almost tearing them off and how resistant the girl had been. He waited to have Marianne push his hand away. When she didn’t, he undid a button. Then another. Tonight, his fingers and the buttons were on his side. They slid through the buttonholes as willing accomplices. His fingers traced the edges around her lacy bra. It felt sexy. He felt himself getting hard as his fingers slid over her breasts. Their curves were so erotic. He wanted to squeeze them, but he’d read in Playboy that it could hurt, and besides, he loved the feeling of the light touchings they were sharing. She was gently massaging his neck and running her fingers through his hair. They moved like soft breath through leaves. His fingers slipped under her breasts and tried to slip inside her bra. It was tight. She moved closer to him. He reached around to her back and, like he knew what he was doing, tried to unclasp her bra. It wasn’t easy. She pushed him away, sat up.
“Sorry,” he mumbled like a bumbling fool.
She rose and extended her hand to him. “Let’s go to the bedroom.”
Marianne smiled, undid the other buttons and slipped out of her blouse. She reached behind her back and unclipped the hooks. He reached over and slid the bra straps over her shoulders and down her arms. Other than in Playboy, he had never seen a girl’s naked breasts before. Her skin glistened in the candlelight.
He was glad it was dark because he didn’t want her to see his hard-on.
She turned her back to him. “Unzip me.”
His fingers were trembling. He unhooked the skirt and pulled the zipper. He bent to pull it over her hips and ended up head butting her in the back, sending her flying onto the bed.
“Hey!” she cried out before starting to laugh.
“Sorry. Sorry.”
She rolled onto her back and continued laughing. Reaching up, she pulled him on top of her. A twinge made him wince, but he didn’t want to cry out and ruin the moment. They kissed. The heat from her body felt like it was pulsating. He rose and fell with her breathing. She rolled over onto him. He gasped.
“You okay?” she asked.
“Oh, yeah,” he sighed. He felt horny. He almost forgot about his sore ribs.
She picked up her clothes and walked out of the room. He sat up, wondering what he had done wrong. Was this it? Was she just a tease? He was pissed but a bit relieved at the same time. She was a nice girl and he was lucky to have gotten this far.
She returned with a towel wrapped around her. “How come you’re still dressed?” she asked.
It took him aback. He tried to undress quickly but the pain forced him to slow down. He fumbled with his belt and zipper more than with hers. It was as if he had never undressed. Well, he never had with a girl in the room. He glanced over his shoulder. She was slipping the towel under the covers before getting in. He joined her. They looked at each other as if to say what now? He felt her fingernails on his chest. The touch was light and erotic. It felt like almost not touching.
His fingertips touched down on her breasts. He sighed. His palms rested on her nipples. He kissed one then the other. She arched toward him. He suckled. “Wow.” Her fingers slipped between his legs. He gasped. His body felt like it was going to explode. He was afraid to move. Then he reached down to touch her. She placed her hand over his.
“I’m a virgin,” she said.
He stopped. Breathed deeply. “Me too.”
He wasn’t sure what he should do next, but his urges and fantasies did. Every nerve ending was firing at a million miles an hour. He straddled her. He was in a hurry but because of his ribs, he had to slow down. He was slipping into her. Marianne dug her nails into his back. She rose to meet him. She let out a loud gasp as he fully dove into her. Something gave. He opened his eyes and saw a tear slip down her cheek. He worried that he had hurt her. He felt an oozing followed by a contraction. They urged him on. She opened her eyes. They were looking through him. She pulled him tight to her and moved as if dancing a slow dance. He was light as a feather, floating. Their breathing synched.
Afterwards, he just wanted to lie there next to her and feel her warmth. Her breath on his skin, soft and even, like the most gentle breeze in the world. He stared into the darkness. Something had changed. He had entered another world. He turned toward her.
“I have to go,” he said, though he didn’t want to.
She opened her eyes and pulled him close. She kissed him softly. “I know,” she said and pulled the cover over her head.
All the way home in the cab, he hummed their song. He didn’t want to go home. Not only because it was really late but because he was going from what he had just become, back to being his parents’ child. Going home was going backward. Like becoming a virgin again.
He opened his mouth and let the water fill it, spill over, cascade down his chest, torso, crotch…
“Breakfast,” his mother shouted from the kitchen.
20
“We know you were planning this crime. We know you went to see your Gypsy collaborator earlier. What did you talk about?”
The voice seemed to come from miles away. Tommy was so tired he could barely see. The man’s face was just an amorphous blob.
“Weren’t you?” the man in the dark suit snapped.
Tommy wanted to sit, but he made himself stand straighter and tried to focus. “Frog called him a liar and a thief.”
“Officer Szeles?”
“No, Béla Bartok.”
“What?”
“I was sitting with Gabi and Frog under a huge willow just at the edge of Frog’s putri talking about old times. Gabi had told me that Frog got kicked out of university but didn’t know why. I asked Frog, who told me that it was because he had called Béla Bartok and the Hungarian people liars and thieves. I didn’t know what he was talking about. I had heard of Bartok but didn’t know anything about him. So I asked him what happened.
“He said he had made the accusation in class. He had also said that Liszt said that Hungarian music wasn’t worth much without Gypsy music. His professor got really upset, so he kicked him out.
“I told him that I couldn’t believe that he got kicked out for arguing with his professor. Our professors encourage debate. One of my friends lives for it.
‘Not here,’ Frog said. He also said that he put a curse on him. Frog had a mischievous smile on his face, so I wasn’t sure if he was kidding. Frog said that the professor had called him ignorant and uncivilized. So, he figured why not. That’s why he got called to the Dean’s office.
“The Dean told Frog that he was insolent and disruptive and that other professors had also made complaints against hi
m. The Dean also gave him a lecture about why students at university are called listeners. I’ve never heard students called listeners, so I asked Frog why. He said that the Dean told him that it was because that was all students were capable of at this stage of their academic lives. He said that they should keep their mouths closed, ears open and their ignorant opinions to themselves. He said that they should listen to their betters, that way they might learn something. Then he questioned where Frog got off challenging a professor’s authority.
“I told Frog that I thought that professors do know more.
“He said that when he questioned his professors, he wasn’t questioning their knowledge but their conclusions.
“Then, he said, the Dean got really angry and wanted to know where he got his information. Frog told him that he was a Gypsy who had heard Gypsy music from the time he was in his mother’s womb. He said that Gypsy music greeted his birth and that he was suckled to Gypsy music and fell asleep to Gypsy lullabies.
“I was really amazed that he said all that.”
“Frog said that the Dean called it hogwash. And then told him that the Party was disappointed in him.
“I didn’t know what party he was talking about.
“Gabi said that it was the Communist Party.
“I didn’t understand what the Communist Party had to do with Bartok and Gypsy music.
“Gabi told me that they had everything to do with everything.
“Frog explained that the Party decreed that Gypsies should be let into schools even though they may not be qualified, so they could be civilized and integrated into the socialist fabric of Hungary. The Dean and most Hungarians were not happy about that. They argued that Gypsies would take the place of more qualified Hungarian students. The Dean also told him that the Party was disappointed in how he was repaying them. He said Frog’s behaviour reflected badly on those who were trying to help him, that he was biting the hand that wanted to feed him. And that he was also hurting his people by proving that they couldn’t be civilized. Therefore, he had no choice but to expel him.”
“I’m not interested in this tripe,” the man in the suit bellowed. “I’m interested in the planning of the crime!”
“But that’s what we talked about; I swear!”
21
Tommy and his father were watching his father’s favourite show, The Three Stooges. You didn’t need much English to enjoy the slapping, punching and eye-gouging antics of Larry, Curly and Moe. Tommy waited till it was over.
“I really want to go. This is a chance of a lifetime to play on the Golden Green. And really, nothing can go wrong. I’m going to be with the team and then with family.”
“You understand why we don’t want you to go, don’t you?”
Tommy nodded and readied himself for another no. But he wasn’t going to take no for an answer. He was ready to go without their permission.
“Your mother doesn’t like it. She’s scared for good reasons and I agree with her. But I convinced her that it’s important for you to see your family.” Tommy couldn’t believe his ears. He jumped out of his chair. He hugged and kissed his father.
“But there is a condition,” his father said after the embrace. “We want you to check with the Canadian government. First we want them to write a letter that says that you’re a Canadian citizen and Hungary can’t conscript you into their rotten army.”
“Sure, sure,” he said though, he didn’t really know how to go about it. Tommy’s heart felt like it was about to burst.
“Also, I think it’s important that you go there as a champion and leave like a man, not like a mouse, like us.”
His father held him by the arms and beamed at him with pride. “You show them what they lost.”
22
The season was more than half over and the Knights were holding their own. They were in fourth place in a ten-team league. Coach Hus had them playing not just with their feet but with their brains as well.
“Let’s play multiple games, long, short, criss-cross, fast, and slow, but most importantly, smart, and as a team,” he kept repeating. “You’re younger and in better shape. Be smart. And of course….”
“Hustle,” they yelled.
Tommy and Speedy were among the top ten scorers in the league. They were having fun. They had chemistry. Speedy’s speed kept defenders hanging back, so Tommy had room to manoeuvre. It gave him the chance to use the give and go with him. Tommy’s strength was his two feet, his head and his brain. He could shoot with both feet and had a spring in his legs that let him out-jump most of the defenders. He also had a sense of the game and its rhythm and knew how to play head games with the opponents. He appeared vulnerable because he wasn’t bulky. He looked easy to push off the ball, until one of them tried. When an opponent leaned on him, he would lower his centre of gravity and then suddenly rise to send him flying. He was also getting used to the rougher game. Watching his opponents, he learned how to bring up the elbows and deliver sharp jabs without getting caught. Defenders and goalies were more reluctant to come charging at him. He had learned that in this league, part of skill was hiding certain skills.
Archie, the oldest on the team and a Poli-Sci major, had analyzed the rough-and-tumble approach to the game at one of their post-game beer sessions. He was, as usual, lecturing. It’s why they called him the Professor.
As always, he began with,“Let me put it to you this way… Most of the players in the league are uneducated, working-class immigrants. They work long shitty hours at shitty immigrant jobs and take shitty orders from shitty bosses. Most of them will never get much further ahead. But on the field they’re not at the bottom. They don’t have to take shit. They can be the ones dishing it out. Even after a hard day of exhausting, menial labour they can’t wait to play a game where they get a chance to kick the shit out of someone. And they love to. Even if it’s one of their own.”
“Feel like going for some vino tonight?” Speedy asked as they jogged off the field after practice. Tommy nodded.
“Can you get the car and pick me up? My father took his.”
“Sure.” Tommy answered, a little too quickly. “I have to ask, but I’m pretty sure.” He wanted to ask if Marianne would be there but didn’t want to arouse suspicion.
When he walked in the door his father greeted him with a big smile. “How was practice?”
“Good.”
“When is your next game?”
“Next Thursday. We play Hungaria again. Last time this season.”
“That’s going to be a tough one.”
“Yeah, but we’re ready.”
“Good.”
“Supper!” his mother called.
“I have big news,” his father said as they sat down. “I wrote to Emma and told her you were going to Hungary.”
“That’s not news,” Tommy said. “That was last month.”
“But we got a letter from her today. She was so excited. I bet she peed her pants.”
“Sanyi!” his mother scolded.
His father chuckled. “She pees so easily when she laughs or gets excited.”
“And of course, you used to tell her jokes on purpose to try to make her laugh.”
“She likes to laugh. Anyways, she’s counting the days.”
“I doubt I’ll have much time. We’re on a tight schedule.”
“There is no way you will not visit the family,” his mother proclaimed with a look that brooked no argument. “If you’re going to that lice-ridden country, you’re going to properly visit family and the cemetery and you’re going to say Kaddish. May they rest in peace. I’m not going to be shamed. Who knows if we’ll get a chance again.”
“We decided to pay for you to stay an extra week, so you can visit with all of them.”
“Thanks, that’s great. Wow!” He hugged his parents.
“But you know what�
�s the real big news?” his father asked when Tommy sat down again.
“There’s more?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“Guess who’s the goalie for the Hungarian University championship team?”
“No!”
“Yes!”
“Wow! Really? I can’t believe it! Gabi? That’s unbelievable.”
Supper was spent reminiscing about when Tommy and Gabi were children: Gabi sending Tommy into the chicken coop and getting his clothes covered with chicken shit. Gabi, the older of the two, making Tommy accompany him to the outhouse at night to hold a candle while he did his business; throwing pebbles through the tavern basement window to see who could hit a bottle of wine and, of course, breaking a couple and swashbuckling with swords that the blacksmiths made for them, which they hid from their parents. Tommy had forgotten about the swords.
“Can I borrow the car?”
“Where are you going?”
“Over to Speedy’s for a while.”
“Okay, but don’t stay out too late. You have to wake up early. You work tomorrow.”
“Who gets up at six o’clock in the morning?” he joked.
“Working people!”
“Okay. I’ll be home by eleven.”
“Not at four. And no drinking.”
“I know.”
He couldn’t wait to tell Speedy and the guys. He couldn’t wait to see Marianne.
“Ah, Tamásito,” Speedy’s mom greeted him. She grabbed his face and planted two big kisses on his cheeks. “Nice to see you.”
“Sit down. Are you hungry?”
“No, gracias, I just had supper.”
“Have a coffee.”
“No, Mama, we’re going out for a few drinks,” Speedy said as he came up the stairs.
“Are you going to El Gitano?”
