“Smuggling a Boy into Baba’s” (Story 10, Excerpt 2)

Posted: April 4th, 2010 | Author: Laryssa | Filed under: Smuggling a Boy into Baba's | No Comments »

The following excerpt is the second part of “Smuggling a Boy into Baba’s”. You can read the first part here.

We waited to cross at a busy intersection. Eric and Sam were arguing about the location of the alley where Sam felt up a waitress he met the last time they were out. I felt like I was intercepting insider information. Theo moved his lips to my ear.

“Can I come home with you?” He whispered. “I’ll accompany you to Baba’s at the end of the night.”

Immediately, I knew that bringing Theo to Baba’s would be a bad idea, but I was so surprised that Theo wanted to spend the night with me that I considered the possibility. Of course, I wanted him to spend the night with me. It would be nice for someone I really liked to sneak a peek into my life.

None of my friends had visited me at Baba’s house yet. I wanted to show someone the Ukrainian embroidery, Baba’s drawings, the way that I had decorated my room, the new paint on the walls, and the phone with the quarter-sized buttons. I wanted to point out the smell of cabbage that always permeated the house. Living there would be more real for me if Theo could witness it.

His breath was still hot on my ear, and I wanted more of it. The space we could share in my twin-sized bed would remind me of my tiny bed at school and the times we had to sleep pressed so closely together to keep from falling out of it.

“Let’s see how the night goes,” I said.

I tried to cover all my emotions the way I covered my shoulders with the sweater.

“Don’t get your hopes up.”

“Where are we going, anyway?” Asked Eric.

He seemed to be the only one paying attention now to our surroundings. Sam concerned himself with a glob of gum stuck to the bottom of his shoe. I forgot we were going anywhere.

“Let’s go there,” said Theo.

He pointed to an orange neon sign surrounded by a strand of multi-colored Christmas lights: Cantina Loca.

I rolled my eyes. Cantina Loca was the kind of bar I would never visit with serious intentions. Madsy and I would come to Cantina Loca if we just wanted to dance, dress in tacky outfits, and pretend to be the kind of girls that we were not.

Should I tell him what Madsy and I used to do at Cantina Loca? No, he wouldn’t want to know.

The guys liked the flat-screen televisions behind the bar because they broadcasted sports games from other time zones. Televised sunlight on the west coast contrasted harshly with the dark in the bar.

The guys also liked that the female bartenders wore little red bikini tops and the free tacos Cantina Loca distributed after 10 PM.

“I wish I lived in Mexico so that I could eat these every day,” said Theo.

I reminded myself not to be a snob. I shouldn’t criticize someone for liking rancid corn taco shells with greasy meat and too much cheese.

I longed for the hilly billy bar that Baba had described. I imagined warm spätzle served by beautiful blond women and a live performer, someone like Johnny Cash. I wanted large steins of good German beer and a full belly of noodles with fried onions.

The inauthentic Mexican paraphernalia nailed to the wall behind the bar made me miss Baba and her authentic Ukrainian things, which fell off desks and dressers whenever she happened to bump into them. I missed her unique brand of cultural mess.

“I wonder what Baba would think,” I said.

“Cool, want a tequila shot?” Asked Theo.

“I’ll have a beer, please.”

Theo ordered a Bud Light for each of us. What, no Weißbier or Weizenbock?

He drank it so quickly that he was ordering a second beer within five minutes. I couldn’t drink my beer that quickly. I guess we were drinking hard tonight.

I could get drunk with him tonight. This wouldn’t be the first time it ever happened. But I wondered if I could keep him from drinking so much that he wouldn’t want to have sex with me, throw up, or pass out. I wondered if I could remain sober enough to remember how I was going to smuggle a boy into Baba’s.

“So, I’m taking you home with me?” I asked.

“I knew you would agree eventually.”

“You will love it at Baba’s house,” I said. “She has such a strange and interesting array of artwork on the walls. She draws, did you know that? I think I get my skill from her.”

“I can’t wait to break the rules with you, sexy girl,” said Theo.

Eric and Sam were watching the sports channel and checking out the bartenders. They looked longingly at the young women who were getting tequila poured into their mouths, straight from the bottle.

By the time Theo finished his sixth beer, I was only halfway through my second, and I was working enough of a buzz to laugh when he pulled me over to a secluded lounge sofa, even though I kind of wanted to dance.

“I love you, Veda,” said Theo.

He pulled my hair away from my sticky neck so that he could kiss it. He had never said those words before. I knew for a fact that he didn’t love me. His kisses did feel amazing, though. He could continue kissing me for as long as he wanted.

“You mean the world to me,” he said.

“Don’t say things like that when you’re drunk,” I said.

I wanted to believe him, but I couldn’t let myself believe him. I could let him into my bed, I could bring him home to Baba’s house, but I absolutely could not, no matter what, believe him.

I had wanted Theo to say those words to me since the first time he kissed me, after our visit to the art museum. But now that Theo was actually saying them, with the same breath that carried the scent of cheap beer, I didn’t like the way they sounded.

“I’ve been afraid to tell you, because I wasn’t sure how you felt about me,” said Theo.

He spilled beer on my knee and tried to kiss my hand. I sat in silence. I closed my eyes and imagined the smell of spätzle moving through the air. I imagined that, next to me, was a handsome young gentleman in a sport jacket holding a flower. In this imaginary world, I had to be home by 10 PM.

“Then why the hell did it take you so long to call me?” I asked, turning to him again.

“I was busy,” said Theo. “Don’t take everything so personally.”

I was so disappointed with Theo but even more disappointed with myself for having expectations for a guy who didn’t have the greatest track record.

“Why don’t we go dance?” Asked Theo.

I wanted to dance, but I didn’t want to look like a fool dancing with him.

“No, let’s just stay here,” I said.

He pulled from the couch and onto the dirty, wet dance floor. I felt like a rotisserie chicken under those colored hot lights. Theo was rubbing his crotch against my butt, and my cute dress was sweaty and already beer stained.

The time when I should have left was lost and gone forever. This scene would never have taken place at the hilly billy bar, where patrons used coasters.

Finally, Eric saved me. He wasn’t that drunk, just transfixed by the bartenders.

“Theo, you should probably take a break,” he said.

I smiled at Eric and nodded to encourage him. Eric took Theo’s half-empty glass.

“I’m sure Veda doesn’t want to take care of you for the rest of the night,” said Eric. “Sam and I are leaving soon anyway.”

“I don’t mind taking care of him,” I said. “He’s my friend. I won’t let him get in trouble.”

Why the hell was I always standing up for Theo? Why was I always making excuses for him? He was so good at rejecting me, then returning in mysterious and enticing ways.

I loved his attention, which was so rare. I wanted to be one of the things that made him excited, one of the things that made him feel like a hopeful and bright little boy. Would I ever stop seeking his approval?

“Alright, then we’re going home,” said Eric.

Without any prospects for one-night stands, alleyway makeouts, or phone number exchanges, Eric and Sam were done. I finally had Theo to myself, right? We were going home together. We were going to leave the city for the quiet and quirkiness of New Jersey.

“We should go too,” I said. “Let’s head to the PATH station before it gets too late.”

The later trains arrived more infrequently, and the people who rode them became more obnoxious and incoherent. When we arrived at the station, Theo stumbling, a train had just arrived. I was so grateful for our timing.

“I feel nauseous,” said Theo.

He sat down on the dirty ground. I wasn’t really feeling well either, but I was excited to go home. I squatted down, despite my dress, and rubbed his lower back. Despite my annoyance, despite my feeling sick, I hoped he would remember how patient and kind I was being with him. Could he just realize already what a great girlfriend I would make?

“Stop, it’s too hot. Please don’t touch me,” he said.

When the train doors opened, Theo refused to board.

“I feel like I’m going to throw up.”

He started pacing. I just watched him. I was not going to miss this train. Other people waiting for the train noticed my predicament; I was playing caretaker to someone who probably should have been taking care of me.

A few attractive guys looked at me and shook their heads at Theo. They probably felt sorry for me. They probably wished they were the ones taking me home. I nodded at them.

Sure, Theo was a lousy on-again, off-again thing, but we were friends. At least, I thought we could be friends in a perfect world. Friends had certain obligations to one another. If something happened to him, Sam and Eric would be mad at me.

The conductor announced the train’s departure, but Theo wouldn’t come on the train, even after I tried waving to him from within the compartment. I felt a little sorry for him, but I really wished he could just suck it up and get on the train. Otherwise, we would have to wait another half hour in the hot PATH station.

“Come on,” I said, annoyed. “Come on, we have to go.”

Instead, Theo wandered to the parallel track and vomited between the cars of an out-of-service train.

“Are you serious? Are you seriously puking right now?”

I couldn’t leave him. The train was about to depart, but I stood next to Theo. The train pulled away and left me with this vomiting guy who claimed to love me.

Theo was so focused on puking that he didn’t even realized that the train was gone. When he finished, he straightened himself.

“I feel better,” said Theo, covering his mouth with his hand. “Do you have any napkins?”

“No! Fuck you! We missed our train,” I said. “Where am I supposed to find you a fucking napkin?”

“Why are you mad?” asked Theo. “I feel really sick.”

I would want someone to help me if I wasn’t feeling well, no matter how much of a shithead I was. Puking in the PATH station was really low and probably one of the worst things ever.

I tried to shed my anger and be his friend. Being angry wasn’t going to make the train come any faster or make the temperature any cooler. To my knowledge, the PATH station had no public restrooms, and the guys at the newsstand didn’t have any napkins.

With a half hour to spare before the next train would arrive, we had to resurface to ground level to find a public restroom. Where the fuck were we supposed to find a public restroom at 4 AM? All bathrooms were locked and either accessible only to employees or by key for customers.

The hilly billy bar would probably have a bathroom with a personal service employee who charged anyone who wanted it 50 cents for a spritz of cologne or perfume. The lavatory attendant, would hand me a three-ply quilted paper napkin after I washed my hands with lavender-scented soap.

We found a street vendor who sold hot dogs and asked him for a bunch of napkins. Luckily, he gave Theo a small stack of napkins without asking him to buy a hot dog. The smell from the boiling hot dog water made me feel sicker.

Theo wiped the vomit from his face and put some of the unused napkins in his pocket, a bad sign.

Finally, we went back to the platform to continue waiting for the next train. At this point, I didn’t want to talk to Theo at all so I sat on the ground and read the timetables. I would stick out the night with him, but I wasn’t going to be nice.

The strange and belligerently drunk were beginning to gather in the station. Women with ankles wobbling from drunkenness and heels grabbed the ticket turnstiles and their boyfriends for support. Men with shirts half unbuttoned were already reminiscing about the night that wasn’t quite yet over.

When the train arrived, I literally pulled Theo into a car. I was not going to miss another train. Though I was no longer drunk, my mouth was dry, and my head was pounding so hard that I thought my heart was going to leak out of my ear. The car was so crowded that we had to stand, holding the handrails by the door. I could feel the sweat dripping between my breasts.

Theo kept looking at the floor. I didn’t want to touch him, and I didn’t want to ask him if he was okay.

When the train started to move, Theo lasted for about five minutes before pushing his way to the back of the car and sliding the door that connected the cars.

I knew he was going to throw up in between the cars, while the train was moving, but I just didn’t care anymore. He had the napkins in his pocket, he was an adult, he could deal with it himself.

I didn’t even care if Theo fell between the cars. At least I was on the train, on my way to Journal Square, to Baba’s house. When he finally came back to stand next to me, he smelled like vomit.

“I didn’t even drink that much,” he mumbled.

“Whatever,” I said.

When we got to the steps outside of Baba’s house, I quietly unlocked the door and told Theo to wait for me while I made sure that Baba was asleep. The main hallway was dark, and Baba wasn’t in the living room, watching CNN or praying with her rosary.

“Alright, follow me,” I said.

He wouldn’t see very much of Baba’s house because it was dark, and I rushed him to my room, which was at the end of a very long hallway, off the kitchen.

“Walk down the hall as quietly as you possibly can.”

When we made it safely to my bedroom, I realized how sad I was that Theo wouldn’t get a chance to see the drawings on the walls, the embroidery throughout the house, and the display of pysanky, elaborately-dyed Ukrainian Easter eggs in the display case in her dining room.

In the morning, I would have to quickly sneak Theo out of the house, and he probably would never get to see anything besides my newly-painted walls or understand what I was talking about when I talked about Baba.

“Let me wake up Baba and tell her that I made it home safely,” I said. “I don’t want her checking on me in the middle of the night and finding you.”

I went into Baba’s bedroom, with the bed so high she needed a stepstool to climb into it, and I gently shook Baba’s shoulder.

“I’m home safe,” I whispered.

Baba opened her eyes a little, confused. The thick comforter engulfed her small, frail body, and she looked startled.

“Did you have fun?” Asked Baba.

“Tak,” I said, because it was late, and I didn’t want to explain anything.

I wouldn’t even know how to begin or how to explain the night in a language she could understand.

When I returned to the bedroom, Theo was already asleep, taking up most of the space.

At the very least, I wanted an explanation, something to confirm or refute his proclamation of love. Even as he slept drunkenly on my bed, sweating beer on my nice comforter, I was the one who felt powerless.

I washed my face and changed into my pajamas. I brought the broken digital clock from the dining room, the one that always read 9:42, to my bedroom. The display part was broken, but the alarm somehow always worked.

I set it so that we could wake up before Baba and then tried my best to fit into Theo’s arms.

(Photo by russelljsmith)

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