Nine

NINE

It is nine o’clock, and Mirek has closed doors for goose bumps. Business is brisk (thank you, Andrew Scott, Westminster Language School). Many people (Andrew Scott) think it is not nice what we do next, but for us it is most important thing. Some people have not enough to worry about, but that does not mean they must worry for me.

****

I am writing at kitchen table. Tomáŝ leans over me. “What do you write?”

“Nothing,” but his face begins to sulk, so I say, “An essay.”

“Why do you write in English?” Tomáŝ does not know English.

 I lie to him. “For English class. I must write one-thousand words of how better since Russians are gone.”

Big mistake. It is twice wrong thing to say. English class and Russians are always wrong things to say to Tomáŝ.

Tomáŝ is nearly angry now. “To know of Russians, go to Russia.”

Tomáŝ is older and remembers.

But Russians are not why he is still over my shoulder, so this stupid game goes on. Often I am sorry for Tomáŝ. It is three years since he is at home all day because he lose his job in the foundry.

 I am Ema Popova. I live in Bohnice, Praha 10. To work, I take one bus to Ke Stirce then tram to Devická. It is too much time but less money. Truth, I do not really mind how long it takes to get to work, only how long it takes to get home. My journey home is night tram to city centre and taxi to Bohnice. This is too much money but only way after midnight. I do not talk to driver, driver do not talk to me. Journey is forever. We do not want to be there. We are ghosts at one in the morning.

Truth, depending who is curious (Andrew Scott), I may say I live in Troja, Praha 7, where are big villas and a zoo. Bohnice has only communist-era tower blocks and psychiatric clinic.

In my life there is before nine and after nine. Same for everyone, you think, but you will soon see how much more to me.

****

It is before nine. At back door of Bar Nádraží is Pan Karel bringing basket of pork knuckles, steaming hot so people think we have cooking and good Czech food. Almost everything (not toilet) in Bar Nádraží appears better than it is. Staropramen comes from electric pump and is one thing to rely on.

Every sort of customers come to Bar Nádraží. Many English and Americans, but not so many as nice places like Potrefená Husa or Bar Jamá. Truth, Andrew Scott is here on Fridays but leaves before nine, which is sweet because he really want to stay. Perhaps one day, but Tomáŝ cannot know.

In Bar Nádraží, toilets smell all year round but more in summer. These are very horrible to occupy, but at least it is a place to be alone.

There is always cigarette smoke in Bar Nádraží. The old pani do not care for laws and Mirek neither, so he not pay minimum wage. He says if I not like it, others will. There are ashtrays to empty, beer to put on tables and silly men to say silly things and sometimes be unkind, but Mirek at least take care of that.

I am at Bar Nádraží three years since Tomáŝ punch a man in his face at the foundry.

I am working already six hours when is screaming from kitchen. Silva has met huge rat on pork knuckles. This rat is not afraid, so Mirek comes and wallops (thank you, Andrew Scott) with a broom. Now it is on the floor but gone before Mirek can kill it. It runs into the bar where customers are swearing and putting feet on chairs. I am smiling smiling smiling so my face aches, but it is way to get tips, though Mirek keep most. He says all risk is his so he is entitled. What risk? We think he must mean risk of toilets, but truth, we are in that boat altogether. Soon, I go outside for my cigarette and Silva comes quick to help. Mirek shouts and Silva goes back inside. I close my eyes and wonder how nice if someone else is me for a while.

****

Tak, jdema na to. Beginning now after nine and Mirek has closed doors for goose bumps. Suddenly he bangs big gong with long metal spoon from kitchen and everybody put hands on ears and make happy faces and hoot (thank you, Andrew Scott).

Music turns up to number eleven. All English sing Agadoo doo doo song which Andrew Scott says is like national anthem and very holy. Americans laugh through American teeth, and Mirek puts on coloured lights that whirl and spin like mad. Truth, is nearly like Bar Mandalay at New Year, and we make as much from tips in three hours as six before nine, but Mirek still keeps most.

Me and Silva take off tops and bras in kitchen. Now Bar Nádraží is different place, and perhaps even toilets not smell so much. Everybody is drinking twice as quick, and I, Ema, sashay (thank you, Andrew Scott) around tables like modern-day Marilyn. Mirek say is no need to have big bosoms, is only need to have big smile and keep smiling. Truth, he is right, so make way for Ema as all men watch and wish. Mirek say pork knuckles are free, but no one wants them because of rat. Everybody is sparkling, and if American boys from Citibank say rude things, somehow I have clever words to make them laugh, and no harm is done. Time goes quickly, which is best for me.

From nine o´clock till after midnight, Bar Nádraží rocks with different vibe (Andrew Scott, of course). Then I put on clothes for outside, doors are locked, and once more it is before nine and story begins over.

There is no other woman on night tram, only drunk men. How better to be with a girlfriend. I shiver. My coat is worn and thin, and that is so suggesting of me I could cry. One man calls out.

“Hej kotě, nech mê tê zahřát.”

Hey kitten, I can warm you up.

“Jdi do prdele,” I tell him. Fuck off. Truth, I have no clever words. I think there are no clever words, only clever thoughts that come to nothing. 

More things about me. I always know exact money in purse and how many cigarettes in packet.

Later, I am home, and Tomáŝ is awake. Like every night, he is drinking and asking many questions about you know who and not believing anything I say. Tomáŝ sometimes likes to make me cry but is always sorry after.

.

End