MONEY OR A KISS
I was walking towards the car, still
shocked by Linda's slap in the face. What an idiot. She was
obviously not a prostitute. As I sat in the cab with a trunk
full of Linda's luggage, I heard one of the rear side doors
open and instinctively turned to see what it was. It was Linda.
For some reason I was glad to see her.
"Just drive," Linda said as though nothing had happened
between us moments ago. I just obeyed without any questions.
"Sorry," I apologized.
"I can't believe you thought I was a pro. Although you
deserved that slap, I need to apologize as well for not being
up front with you. The main reason why I did what I did back
there was because I needed a good reason to leave, but more
importantly, to make it look as though I wasn't about to leave
with you... I thought the guy in black was after me."
"One near entrance... Is he your ex?"
"Nooo, but he did look suspicious."
"Where do you want me to drive you?"
"I told you, drive me to your place."
"I can't." I felt a bit uneasy about everything.
"My wife would kill me if I bring you home. I've done
some stupid things in past and she is jealous maniac. There
is no way you can get into my home without both of us being
kicked out."
"I'll take care of that."
***
I glanced up at the mirror again. The
truck was still behind us, although there had been a Japanese
car between us for the past five miles. Daniel noticed that
I was nervous.
"Relax, mister. It's Tuesday, and too early for any major
traffic hazard. You couldn't ask for better road conditions."
I just nodded but remained fixated on the view in the mirror
rather than on the road in front of me.
"Are you OK? You look really worried and perhaps even
scared. I won't rob or rape you, you know." Daniel started
to laugh, but then ended up in a coughing frenzy.
I didn't find it funny so I just observed him through the
mirror. He deserved to be choked to death for making fun of
me. When I turned my attention back on the road, I spotted
a service station: J&K Liquor & Grocery. "We
should stop here for a second. I need to buy some food and
coffee for this long trip."
"Good idea. I actually do need a drink. I hope they have
a bottle shop there."
Once we got there, for the first time since our departure,
I finally had a chance to take a good look at Daniel. He was
surprisingly old, probably in his late seventies. Deep lines
ran everywhere across his face. His eyes were impossibly bright,
almost colorless, and their shape was something unusual, akin
to those found on foxes, and they were incredibly small, especially
in comparison to his other features. They made Daniel look
like Jack Palance. His skin was darkish, rough looking and
covered in sunspots. Probably the ugliest face I had ever
seen. Well, after the ex-State Secretary, Warren Christopher,
that is, but he looked like a gremlin, so he really doesn't
count. I was thinking about Daniel while I was buying a hotdog,
chips, extra large coffee and a bottle of coke. It was too
early to refuel the car so I went straight back.
Daniel was there with a bottle of Chivas Regal. He smiled.
"I hope this will last the entire trip."
We got in the car, but before I even started the engine, I
heard the cracking sound of a bottle lid that was just being
opened for the first time.
"Don't you have a meeting later this morning?"
"Don't worry about me. This is how I usually prepare
for big meetings. It has kept me on top of the game for the
last thirty years; otherwise I'd go nuts."
I just nodded and drove slowly until we were back on the highway.
The truck and the Japanese car were long gone. However, there
were a few random cars behind us now, for which I would need
some time to pick out the suspicious looking one that could
be following us.
I was one of those annoying cabbies that would always try
to make small talk with their customers. Where are you from?
What are you doing in the capital city? What do you do for
a living? Although I decided not to engage in old habits since
after the Events, I realized that a long silent trip to New
York City would be pure torture. So, I decided to break my
post-traumatic resolution on the first day back.
"Daniel, can I ask you something? Are you French or Swiss?"
"Well, you certainly know some things, don't you? I mean,
not many Americans would know there are Frenchmen in Switzerland.
Although I guess you are of European background, aren't you?"
"Yes, I am."
"When did you come to America?" He was obviously
avoiding the question by asking me another question.
"Long story. Are you Swiss then?" I decided to shut
his enquiry quickly.
"Actually, I usually don't answer that question."
"Why? What is big deal?"
"No, really, it's really hard to say. You see, my mother
was Jewish and my father was Huguenot."
"What is that?"
"French Calvinist, or I'd like to call it religion réformée.
"1
"I see. Some kind of protestant."
"You could say that, which is not easy when you live
in a predominantly Catholic country, especially if you're
half Jew. Actually, being a minority is not nearly as bad
as my struggles with my own identity."
"What do you mean?"
"I was maybe ten or eleven when I asked my parents what
I was. ...They almost had a huge fight over it. Actually I
asked my mother. She told me that I was Jewish. She was Jewish
and Jewish tradition says that if your mother is Jewish, you're
a Jew. My father heard what my mum said and he was mad as
hell. He was a French Christian and therefore I must be French
Christian. Then they started fighting and it became pretty
nasty. That was just before the Second World War and Jews
weren't very popular in Europe, even in France. My parents
have never been religious and they never talked about it,
but it was serious. My mum got really upset. Then they asked
me why I was asking them that."
"You just wanted to know. I can understand that, my kids
had the same problem."
"No. Actually I had a much more practical reason. There
was a girl in our neighborhood. She was really pretty and
I had a bicycle that she wanted to ride. I just wanted to
know; should I ask her to pay me as a Jew would, or should
I request a kiss as a real Frenchman."
"Sweet. What your parents say?"
"They laughed."
"And what did you do."
"I charged her and then spent it on sweets, for her.
So it was kind of a mixed behavior. But I must admit, I have
lost my French side through the years."
"Pity."
"Anyway, I do have a French passport if that's what you
mean."
"Doesn't really matter. I was just curious."
"Actually, it's quite interesting how Protestantism and
Judaism share the same principles when it came to economic
development."
"What do you mean?" Religions were never of much
interest to me. While living in Bosnia I only knew of Orthodox
Christians, Catholics and Muslims. I didn't care for H-i-g-e-n-o-t-s
or whatever it is. Naturally, I have forgotten its proper
name.
Daniel continued. "My perfect examples are Citroën
and Peugeot. André Citroën was a Catholic whose
cars looked like a piece of art, but he was also very socially
responsible. He was the first to introduce kindergartens in
factories for those employees with children, and also introduced,
what we now take for granted, annual and maternity leave and
even company retreats for employees on the coast or in the
mountains. On the other hand, Peugeot was driven by Calvinists,
and they hold the board even today. Although they used to
create decent but uninspiring cars, their penny-pitching attitude
prevailed and in the end bought out Citroën in the seventies.
Nowadays, Citroëns are as boring as Peugeots, but they
probably sell well."
"I always liked Citroëns," I said as I didn't
understand the point of the story.
"What I was trying to point out was that the greedy Protestantism
that Weber described has a lot in common with 'Jewishness',
if you like to call it that."
"You probably do not use cabs very often."
"Why do you say that?"
"This is definitely not a conversation for an average
cabbie. Although I understand what you are saying, especially
after coming from Bosnia to Protestant America. However, I
don't find Catholics to be so much community oriented."
"They are certainly more family oriented than the average
English or Dutch family. Look at the Italians for instance.
However, you're right. The Catholic Church has changed, and
that was all because it had to fight communists in Italy,
forcing them to move more right wing."
"Boy, you are real political and religious analyst."
I was really impressed with Daniel's knowledge bank.
"That's my job. I have to understand how these things
work."
"You have answers for every single question."
"I believe that every man that makes a living by giving
expert advice should at least have an opinion on every single
issue, be it right or wrong."
"What an attitude!" I was impressed and began really
warming up to him. "Still, I don't understand your identity
crisis. You are still French."
"I probably used to be, but lately I've spent most of
the time in the United States," Daniel continued. "You
see, I have always had a problem with this so-called national
identity. I always wanted to think of myself as a citizen
of the world. It sounds nice, but it is hard to live with
sometimes. I wanted to spare my children the feeling so I
never had any. What about you? Do you have children?"
I just felt a knot in my throat. Even though I was no longer
a family man now, I missed my kids very much, and didn't want
to talk about them with a stranger.
"Tell me something about your family," Daniel nudged.
"I don't have family anymore. I lost them three weeks
ago."
***
Linda and I entered
my apartment building. It was a four-story Manhattan-style,
redbrick building in Silver Spring where I had a three-bedroom
condo on the third floor. When we entered, Selma was just
coming out from one of the rooms. These days, Selma looked
worse than ever. Her pretty blue eyes were now lost in her
wide, round, plumpish but hard face. She was definitely no
match for Linda.
Don't get me wrong, Selma used to be quite a hottie in her
day, back when we were dating, but ever since we got married,
she seemed to have let herself go and no longer took the time
to care for her figure. The only nice thing remaining was
her curly blond hair. However, her friends would argue that
my description of her was just from a stupid male's perception,
and in her defense, perfectly normal for someone who had given
birth to two kids. There was no point in arguing; the fact
was that Selma was a big lady in her mid-forties who weighed
over 180 pounds, or 95 kilos, as she always preferred the
smaller figure. But she didn't appear as fat as the numbers
suggested, as she was also a reasonably tall lady. When I
brought Linda home, Selma was dressed in a stretchy gray cotton
tracksuit, making her fat thighs even more apparent. She was
genuinely surprised.
"Zoki? Šta je bilo? "2
She started in Bosnian, but when she saw Linda she probably
thought it was a good idea to switch to her poor English,
which was still better than mine. "What happened, Zoki?
Why are you at home early?" Her accent was slightly better,
probably improved by TV soaps.
I tried to handle everything as best I could. "This is
Linda, and this is my wife Selma."
"What is going on here, Zoki? Is everything all right?
Who is she?"
"She is my customer..."
"Are you going crazy? Will you now bring every customer
you have home?" Then she finally snapped and switched
to Bosnian. "Hoceš li mi sad poceti dovodit te tvoje
kurveštije i kuci na rucak, a? " 3
"Aman ženo jesi luda? "4
I responded defensively, indicating how much I feared my wife.
I knew that she had every right to be suspicious, but I couldn't
let her speak to me like that in front of Linda. I had to
get things under control, so I continued in English.
"Just shut up and listen to me. I don't know what is
going on, but she asked me to help her. And she really looked
scared because her ex is harassing her."
"She can go to a safe house somewhere."
"No I can't," Linda interrupted. "They will
ask me too many questions and I really can't be safe there.
You don't know who he is."
Selma transfixed me with her eyes, while I only managed a
whisper.
"Ma pogledaj nju i mene. Znaš da tu nemam nikakve šanse
i prestani da ljubomorišeš. "5
Selma punched me in the arm and started reasoning with us.
"You scared me. I thought it was something wrong. What
is going on, then?"
I was really feeling the heat. I was so preoccupied and terrified
with everything that had just happened with Linda that I had
forgotten to devise a story for handling Selma while I was
on the way home. I was looking to Linda for help, but she
was obviously relying on me to neutralize the situation.
"Listen, darling, this lady is in real trouble and she
asked me to help her..."
"And you had to be her knight in shining armor,"
Selma interrupted, finishing my sentence. "I'm in real
trouble as well. I have to finish a dress for that girl by
tonight before she comes to try it on. I won't make it. I
don't have time for this, Zoki!"
"She just needs couple of hours of peace to work out
what she ought to do."
"I have a dress to finish for that engagement party,
are you listening to me? You have to go to work and not act
like a charity or hotel. Sorry, darling, but we really can't
help you." And with those words Linda just smiled understandingly
and turned to me for help, again. I pulled the last wildcard,
money.
"She seems to be in real trouble and doesn't need much.
She will pay us back."
"Why doesn't she pay a hotel then and go somewhere else?
What can we do to help her, Zoki? She can handle this on her
own, or she better find some friends," Selma said matter-of-factly,
leaving no room for arguing. "You can use our phone to
call somebody to help you and that's it."
Selma pointed Linda to an old gray AT&T cordless phone.
Linda suddenly felt the need to get involved. "Please,
Selma, I really need your help. I have some bad guys looking
for me..."
"Go to police," Selma said coldly.
"I can't. Please give me a chance to explain."
"Sorry lady. You'll have to find somebody else to help
you."
***
1 - Reformed Christianity
2 - What happened,
Zoki?
3 - Will you now start bringing me your whores
home for lunch?
4 - Have you gone crazy, woman?
5 - Come on, look at her, and look at me.
I have no chance with her, so stop being so bloody jealous.
