A Field Guide for Heartbreakers (12 page)

Chapter Twelve

W
aller ran exactly how you’d expect a guy to run. Fast. Which was unfortunate, as I ran exactly how you’d expect a girl to run, especially in a foreign land. Daintily. “There it is!” Waller shouted. He stopped and doubled over, gasping. “That building doesn’t look like it’s dancing or drunk.”The glass twisted the way it did in the picture. The building was supported by several cement pillars that looked like bending legs.“I wish I had a camera,” I said. I thought about the disposable one I’d left back in my room. I think I was forgetting it on purpose. I needed to get over the fact that I was too poor to have a nice camera. I was in Prague. And I had what I had.Waller shook his head. “You should take the picture with your mind. You don’t need a camera,” he said.“I wanted to take a picture of it for my mother,” I said. “I can’t show her what’s in my mind.”My potential rebound was beginning to annoy me. His philosophical view on how to live life had become bossy. Waller threw his arm around me. “Yeah,” he said. “It’s too bad we can’t peel open our heads and show people what’s going on inside there.”I thought about agreeing with him, but I found the mental image so disgusting that I just stood there instead.“Do you want to see the Astronomical Clock?” I asked. “I think we still have time.”Waller grabbed my hand again. “Good idea!” We started running back down the street the way we came. I didn’t mind running, really. I thought it was good exercise. But even though it was morning and still cool outside, the humidity was oppressive and I didn’t want to develop sweat circles around my armpits.“Maybe we can walk,” I suggested.“Yeah,” Waller said. “That way we could talk more. I really like talking to you.”This was fantastic! I felt like we’d regained substantial ground since that whole, “you remind me of my twelve-year-old sister” comment.“How’s your story coming along?” I asked. This seemed like the perfect topic. Because it gave him the chance to talk about himself.“I’ve hit a snag,” he said.“A big one?” I asked.“Yeah,” he said. “I want this thing to happen, but I don’t know how to make it happen.”“Could you Google it?” I asked.Waller stopped walking and shook his head. “I’ve hit an impasse at an emotional level.”Before coming to the July Prague Writers’ Conference I had never heard of anybody encountering an impasse. Now it seemed like everybody I’d met had hit one.“Do you see that?” Waller asked. He pointed to the side of a melon-colored pub. I knew it was a pub because it had two words written on it: “Pub” and “
Hostinec
.” “The pub?” I asked. “The waterline.” He left my side and walked toward the building. “It’s from the flood of 2002. It was the worst natural disaster in the country’s history. Look at how high the water rose.”The pub’s melon color was much darker on the first story. Below the windows on the second level, you could see clearly where the water had peaked.“Fifty thousand people were evacuated from the city.”“Wow,” I said. I wanted to keep talking about personal stuff, not a natural disaster. “There was so much damage.” He turned and walked back toward me. “And the zoo sits right on the Vltava. It went through an apocalypse.”This was such a depressing tangent.“An elephant, hippo, lion, and bear had to be euthanized. They got caught in the floodwaters and were going to drown.”“They should have evacuated them.” I knew nothing about the Prague flood, but my suggestion seemed sound.“And there were four sea lions. Three escaped, but one stayed behind.”“Did it die?”“No. That one lived. And two of the escaped ones were caught, but the fourth one, Gaston, he wanted freedom.” Waller bit his lip and stared off in the direction of the river.“He crossed into Germany and swam down the River Elbe toward the North Sea.”“That makes sense. Sea lions are designed to swim.”“Authorities caught him in Dresden. He’d made it almost eighty miles. But he was weak and infected from the floodwaters. He died in transport on his way back to Prague.” “That’s terrible.”Waller walked back and put his arm around me. “Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.”I tried to think of a way to redirect the flood tangent.“Speaking of running out of time, have you thought about discussing your impasse with Mrs. Knox?” I asked.Waller let his arm fall away from me and shook his head. “I need to sit with it a bit more. It’s deep.” He patted his heart three times.Then I did something very bold. In fact, until I’d done it, I couldn’t believe I was brave enough to attempt it.“Waller,” I said. “If you ever want to talk to me about whatever this impasse is, just call. Any time. I’m there for you,” And then I patted his heart three times. He looked down at me, and for a second I thought he was going to share his impasse. But something else happened. And it sucked. “Waller! Dessy!”Even though I didn’t want to, I looked away from Waller. And saw Roger running toward us. And he didn’t look happy. “Shit,” Waller said. “He’s the last person I want to see right now.”“Isn’t he one of your best friends?” I asked.“He
was
,” Waller said.Roger jogged up to us and stood toe to toe with Waller. “I can’t believe you!”“Dude,” Waller said. “I’m giving everybody some space until things mellow.”“
Mellow
?” Roger asked. “Frank is not going to
mellow
after what you did to him.”Waller looked away in disgust. “He’s being a baby.”“No,” Roger said. “You need to apologize and smooth things over.” I felt very awkward. I didn’t want to leave, because I liked how standing next to Waller made me feel, but there was so much tension between Waller and Roger. If Veronica were here she’d know what to say to defuse the situation. She’s very good at hijacking conversations; unfortunately, I don’t have that skill.“Hi, Roger,” I said, pretending everything was cool. “Waller and I are headed to the Astronomical Clock. Want to come?”Roger shot me a confused look. “You’re out sight- seeing?” he asked Waller. “I bet you’re not even sober.”Waller shrugged. “Maybe I’m not.”“Sounds like you guys had a wild night,” I said, trying to sound engaged and nonjudgmental.Roger looked at me with a mildly stunned expression. Then he glanced back at Waller, then at me again. He appeared increasingly unhappy as he assessed the situation. “Actually, I worked on my story. It was the rest of the clowns that went out and had a wild time at the circus,” he said finally.“We’re in Prague!” Waller said. “We’re supposed to imbibe recklessly amongst the natives.” “Only alcoholics and idiots operate under that assumption,” Roger said. “You need to come back and talk to Frank. He’s having some kind of breakdown.” Waller folded his arms across his chest. “If I’m not sober, he’s not sober. And talking to drunk Frank is like talking to a cognitively impaired chimp. We’ll talk tomorrow.”“We’ve got workshop in an hour,” Roger said. “And Frank wants to beat your ass.”“Frank can’t beat my ass.”Roger exhaled a deeply frustrated breath. “You’re acting like a dick.”The next thing happened in a flash. Waller reached out and pushed Roger. Hard. “Get off my back,” Waller said. Roger stumbled and caught his balance. He didn’t say anything else, just walked off.I didn’t realize that Waller had such a temper. Whatever had happened between him and Frank must have been pretty serious. I wondered if it involved a girl.“I gotta get out of here,” Waller said.“No Astronomical Clock?” I asked. “Because it’s right there.” I pointed in the direction of Old Town. “I need to clear my head,” Waller said. “I need to experience five new things in order to shove the last five experiences out of my consciousness.”This made me feel terrible, because wasn’t his morning with me one of his last five experiences? I watched Waller storm off in the opposite direction from Roger. He ran across the uneven cobblestone path like it was a groomed track. He was a lot more athletic than I’d realized. And he didn’t look drunk at all, which buoyed my spirits somewhat. Because I didn’t want to believe that my entire deep conversation with Waller had occurred while he was inebriated. I watched his bobbing head until it got lost in a crowd of non-bobbing heads.I swallowed hard and re-aimed myself toward Old Town. Let Veronica be pissed at me. Let Waller mysteriously race off. I didn’t need a companion to visit this clock. It was something I wanted to see, and I knew how to get there. So I walked there by myself.

Chapter Thirteen

T
he astronomical clock was both memorable and forgettable. The scene played out exactly as the tour book said. Death rang a bell. The Apostles paraded around. A rooster crowed. And then the crowd dispersed. Though, to be honest, I did miss death ringing the bell because I wasn’t looking right at the clock when it started. I didn’t wait around another hour to watch it happen again. Old Town was a fun place to kill time. The buildings were stunning and totally unique. The crystal shops looked like baubles more than buildings. One had a fresco painted over its entire four-tiered storefront. And across the square, the T´yn Church climbed above everything, towering over the other buildings with its dark and enormous spires topped with gold balls. It was so Gothic it made me revise my definition of Gothic. I wandered aimlessly, peeking inside windows. Even in tearooms and jazz clubs. Nobody seemed to mind.When I got to the university, Veronica and her mother were the only ones there.“If we can’t find bananas, we can’t find bananas,” Mrs. Knox was saying. “You’re just going to have to live without them.”“But I’ve seen other people eating bananas,” Veronica said.“Next time try to buy one from them,” Mrs. Knox said. “When I was in Rome, bananas were everywhere,” Veronica said. “Markets. Street vendors. Hotel counters. Dad’s backpack.”“Veronica, I have made my last banana inquisition in this city.”“Fine. I guess there are two kinds of people in this world. Those who want something and are willing to go after it until they get it. And those who refuse to look for bananas.”“You never even eat bananas in Ohio,” Mrs. Knox said. “You’re on some sort of weird, ethnocentric power trip. You need to knock it off.”I waved to Mrs. Knox. I didn’t even bother asking how they’d spent their morning. It seemed pretty clear.“How was your downtime?” Mrs. Knox asked me.“Pretty good,” I said.Veronica looked at me and smiled. This surprised me. Was she being sincere? Or was she being Veronica?“Did you see anything interesting today?” she asked.Mrs. Knox flipped through papers. I saw Brenda and Annie Earl walk into the room. Annie Earl was wearing a long-sleeved shirt. Considering the temperature, I couldn’t help but wonder if she was trying to cover her scars. Even though she had to be used to the fact that her arms drew stares, maybe some days she didn’t feel like having people gawk. Maybe some days she didn’t want to see them either.Veronica cleared her throat and repeated her question. “Did you see anything interesting?” “I visited the Drunk House and the Astronomical Clock,” I said.“Really?” Veronica asked.I nodded.“I thought we’d see the clock together!”“I’ll look at it again,” I said.“Cool.” Veronica patted the chair next to her, indicating that she wanted me to sit there.I obeyed, but I was deeply suspicious. Veronica would rather sit next to me than one of the guys? “I need to talk to you after class,” she whispered in my ear.“I thought we were having a fight,” I whispered back.“I’m over it,” she said. “What about you?”To be honest, I didn’t even remember what had started the fight. “Ditto,” I said.Veronica rested her head on my shoulder and rubbed her hair against me. “You two look like best friends,” Annie Earl said.“We are!” said Veronica.When Corky walked into the room, Veronica sat up straight and said, “FYI, I’m avoiding the Corkster.”“Did you have a fight?” Veronica shook her head. “No,” she said. “Worse.”“What’s worse than a fight?”“I think Corky wants to kill me,” she whispered.I laughed. But Veronica didn’t. I looked at Corky, and she glowered over the table at both of us. Then she drew her finger across her throat.“God,” Veronica said. “She’s so melodramatic.”“What’s wrong?” I asked. “What happened?”“I think Prague makes people go crazy,” Veronica said. “Did something happen last night?” Veronica shook her head. “No. Everything was fine last night. Something happened this morning.”“In the last three hours something happened that led Corky to decide that she wants to kill you?” I asked.“Well, I didn’t want to tell you this way,” she said, “but I’m pretty sure Corky wants to kill both of us.”“What?” I asked. I looked back at Corky. She had one of those small plastic pencil sharpeners, and she was screwing her pencil into it with a lot of enthusiasm. “What did you do?”“What makes you think I did something?” Veronica asked.“Because that’s the most likely explanation,” I said.“Okay, you’re right. I did something. But before I tell you about it, I need to fill you in on something else.”“Is it about Waller?” I asked.“No,” Veronica said. “It’s still about Corky.”“Maybe we shouldn’t talk about her when she’s sitting right there,” I said.The room was still pretty empty, as none of the guys had arrived yet. Annie Earl sat chatting with Brenda about a marionette she had just purchased. Veronica’s mom was reading a manuscript intently. And Corky just sat across the table from us, stabbing us with her deadly glare. “Yeah,” Veronica said. “I see your point. But I think you should know this.”“Let’s go into the hallway,” I said. “Or the bathroom.”“Let me handle it,” Veronica said. She sprang out of her chair.Corky pushed away from the table like she was ready to go too.“Mom!” Veronica said. Mrs. Knox looked up from her paper.“Corky was curious about attending a classical concert in Prague; maybe you can offer her some advice.”“You’re interested in attending a concert?” Mrs. Knox asked.Corky paused, like a deer caught in headlights. “I like Mozart,” she said.Veronica bounded toward the door, and I followed her. I could hear Mrs. Knox asking Corky what sort of venue she was looking for. We hustled down the hallway to the bathroom and locked ourselves into an empty stall. We were both breathless. And I was peeved. My first budding romance since Hamilton, and I didn’t have a chance to form a plan of attack with Veronica, because she’d inadvertently provoked a potentially homicidal maniac. “What is it?” I asked.“Corky has a criminal record,” Veronica said.“Is she a thief?” I asked. “Or a drug dealer?”“I wish it was something that minor,” Veronica said. “Turns out, Corky is bat-shit insane. Her crimes are vast. She keeps a blog about them. It’s supposed to be anonymous, but I figured it out. Oh, Dessy, she’s a very venomous person. She sugars gas tanks and blows things up. She cut the ears of her neighbor’s goat and she’s burned down a house. And there’s so much more.”My stomach felt sick. Veronica had to have misread something. “It must be a fake blog,” I said. “We’re in a creative writing workshop with her. I bet it’s all fiction.”Veronica’s grabbed my hands and pleaded with me. “No, Dessy. The blog has pictures. I’ve seen the goat.”I heard myself gasp. “This is serious.” “Of course it is,” she said. “Our lives are in total danger.” “We’ve got to tell your mother.”“No,” she said. “I won’t do that. We’re not getting along at all. And she’ll just turn this into my fault.”“Veronica, this
is
your fault.”“I am
not
telling my mom! We can deal with this.”“Do you realize how vulnerable I feel right now standing next to this toilet?” I asked.“Yeah,” Veronica said. “If I were you, I’d be a paranoid mess too.”“Veronica, you need to tell me everything,” I said. “I feel completely thrown off balance.”“All right. All right,” she said. “But it’s a long story.”“Start at the beginning,” I said.“First, I need to tell you something else,” she said. “More important than why Corky wants to kill us?” I asked.“Yes,” Veronica said, grabbing onto both of my shoulders.“What is it?”“You’ve got bird crap in your hair.”“I do?” I touched the back of my head and felt a crusty glob of something. Then I pulled a wad of toilet paper from the dispenser. “I can’t believe Waller didn’t tell me this.”“Waller?” Veronica asked.“I spent the morning with him,” I huffed. The bird crap had dried and was difficult to get out. “Why didn’t you tell me this right away?” Veronica asked. I quit wiping my hair and stared at her.“Okay,” she said. “I guess the Corky disaster trumped the Waller development. So what happened?”“We bumped into each other outside the dorm,” I said.“Was he sober?” Veronica asked. “Corky and I came across him in an alley last night and he was totally hammered.”I blinked. “Actually, I don’t know if he was sober.”“Doesn’t matter. Keep going.”“Okay. So we went sightseeing. And he held my hand. He even kissed the back of it!” I said.“Oh my god! He totally wants to hump you!” “Whatever,” I said. “But then he told me that I reminded him of his sister.” I dropped the toilet paper into a small garbage can.“His sister?” Veronica groaned. “Wait. Maybe it’s not as bad as it sounds. Maybe she’s adopted. Maybe she’s hot.”I shook my head. “She’s twelve. Her name is Allie and she’s currently reading the Bible.”Veronica gasped. “Wow! People still read the Bible?”The bathroom door squeaked open. Veronica pressed her hands against our stall’s closed metal door. “I’ll hold her off,” she said. “You crawl on the floor into the other stall and escape. And bring back help!”I glanced down at the tiled floor. It was filthy. “You’ve lost your mind,” I said.“Girls.” It was Mrs. Knox. “It’s time to start class. You need to wrap this up.”“Hold your horses,” Veronica called back. “Dessy is still constipated.”I couldn’t believe she’d said that. “It’s a very common condition when people travel,” Veronica said. “It’s nothing to be self-conscious about.”“But I’m not constipated,” I said.“I don’t think you need to go around broadcasting that fact,” Veronica said. “In my experience, people really don’t enjoy hearing about the quality or frequency of your BMs. Even medical doctors.”I couldn’t take it anymore. I stabbed my finger into her back two times. “My god! It’s like you’re trying to take every last piece of dignity that I have away from me,” I whispered.“I’ve got some tea that might help loosen things up,” Mrs. Knox said. “Oh, hi, Corky. No, everything is fine.”Veronica flicked the bathroom lock and threw open the door. “Finished!” she said.I hurried out behind her. Mrs. Knox gave us a puzzled look, but held the door for us without comment. As I walked past Corky, I thought I heard her growl. Veronica leaned close and whispered, “The girl has no conscience. None.” “Great,” I said. “You know, Veronica, you are a terrible friend.” “Don’t be like this,” she said. “So I have some flaws. Everybody makes mistakes.”She was so right about that one.Back in the classroom, the atmosphere had gotten even stranger. No one was talking. As I panned the room I saw something that made me do a double take. Frank. He didn’t have any hair! “Oh my god!” Veronica said. “You look so bald.”I shoved her lightly to try to get her to make a different, more pleasant facial expression.“I don’t want to talk about it,” Frank said. He threw himself down in a seat across from our stuff and unzipped his bag. Kite and Roger were seated on either side of him, looking glum. Waller wasn’t there. I sat down next to Veronica and tried not to look at Frank’s pale, glowing scalp. Mrs. Knox ignored the issue altogether.“Waller called to say that he won’t be with us today,” she said.“That’s because he knows I’m going to kill that jackass!” Frank yelled.We all turned to look at him. He rubbed his bald head over and over.“Normally, I don’t like to pry,” Mrs. Knox said, “but it looks like we have a situation.”There were tears in Frank’s eyes. This was so weird. He was almost crying. I’d never seen a guy cry before. Even in metal shop when Mr. Toliver had accidentally shaved off the tip of his pointer finger on the rotating sander.Roger slapped Frank on the back a few times in an apparent act of consolation. “We’re moving through it,” he said. Kite shook his head and looked down at his hands. “Things got a little out of control with some locals.”Frank slammed his fist on the table. “Locals?” he said, pointing to his scalp. “A local didn’t do this to me.”Roger looked directly at Mrs. Knox. “We’ll work it out.”“Easy for you to say. You still have hair,” Frank said. “Look at me. I look like an alien. I look like I’ve been radiated.”“You’re way too meaty to look like you’ve been radiated,” Corky said. “And your color is all wrong. Too healthy. Trust me.”“As your instructor,” Mrs. Knox cut in, “I’m not comfortable with this turn of events. Frank and Roger, I want to speak with you after class.”I thought after class might be a good time to throw the Corky issue onto the table, so I raised my hand. But Veronica reached over and pinched me, and I took that as a signal to stay silent. So I lowered it.“Frank isn’t going to hurt Waller,” Roger said.“Yeah,” said Kite. “He won’t do anything stupid.”“Don’t speak for me!” Frank said. “Where were you last night? Huh? Where were you when I needed somebody to say, ‘Hey, Waller, put down the razor’? Where were you then?”“I was still in the alley,” Kite said.“You’re telling me that Waller shaved your head?” Mrs. Knox asked. Frank nodded. “I don’t remember it. But I’m pretty sure he was the one.”“Well, I think that’s an act of assault,” Mrs. Knox said. “And that’s something that the July Prague Writers’ Workshop doesn’t tolerate.”“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Roger said. “Frank asked Waller to shave his head.”“I did not!” Frank said. “I’m not an idiot. And I love my hair. It’s very important to me. Or at least I did.”We sat in silence, looking at Frank. It felt like we had entered into some sort of recovery group together. “This is freaking ridiculous,” Corky muttered. We stopped looking at Frank and repositioned our stares on Corky.“Hair grows back,” she said. “I’ve shaved my head bald four times. It’s no big deal. It’s not like he scarred your face or cut off your manhood. It’s hair. What will you do when you’re forty and it all falls out anyway?”“We need to get started,” Mrs. Knox said. “Frank and Annie Earl are up today.”I grabbed Frank’s dolphin story and Annie Earl’s pie story out of my bag.“If you want some time to gather yourself, I’ll go first,” Annie Earl said to Frank.“No,” Frank said. “I actually wrote something this morning that I’d like to read instead.”I stared down at all the marks I’d made on his story. I didn’t think we were allowed to swap material. Frank took out a stack of paper and passed it around. He leaned over the table to hand Veronica and me ours, and I could smell strong booze on his breath.“Actually,” Mrs. Knox said, “we need to work on the story you submitted. You don’t want feedback on fresh material. You need to give writing time to sit.”Frank didn’t stop passing his papers. “I disagree,” he said. “I practically bled on these pages. I gave everything I had.”Mrs. Knox seemed stuck. Should she defend her authority over the workshop, or defuse a volatile situation? She decided to let him read the new material. It was a poem.“I want to read the whole thing,” Frank said.Mrs. Knox glanced through the poem and nodded. Frank moved his chair back and stood up. “My poem is called ‘Kill the Razor.’”Then he read it in a very powerful and, at times, choked-up voice. He also rubbed his head a lot.