Indians on Vacation

by Thomas King

  Prague is currently under a smog advisory. Kitty holds up her cellphone. Respiratory disease and heart problems.

  “You want to go in the planetarium?”

  Mimi doesn’t break stride. “Not really.”

  She picks up speed through a large meadow with an old-time trolley off to one side, parked in the grass. I’m thinking that she’s trying to leave Eugene and the Other Demons in the dust, but even though he’s not as young as he used to be, Eugene manages to keep up.

  This could also be her version of a death march.

  When we come to a lake, Mimi slows down. There’s a small dock that extends into the water. On either end is a large duck’s head carved out of wood.

  I take out my camera. “How about I get a photograph of you and the duck dock?”

  I think that “duck dock” is mildly funny, but I don’t even get a smile.

  “How about we sit on the bench and talk?”

  Eugene puts his hands in his pockets and takes four steps back. Kitty herds the twins to the edge of the lake to search for bugs. Chip goes for a jog.

  “Sure.”

  “Do you want to talk?”

  “Talking’s fine.”

  Mimi settles herself on the bench, and we sit there for what feels like hours, but isn’t.

  A mother comes by with her three children. The older girl skips along the path, playing an imaginary game. The younger boy shuffles behind, kicking at the gravel, making little puffs of dust with his feet. The woman pushes a stroller, her shoulders hunched, her eyes set on something in the distance that isn’t there.

  “You remember those years?”

  I nod. “Hard to forget.”

  “And we only had two.”

  “After one,” I say, “I don’t think it matters.”

  “But you’re not the expert.”

  The girl is suddenly twirling around, her arms flung away from her sides, her head thrown back to the sky.

  “She’s having a good time.” Mimi pats my hand. “Do you think our kids had a good time?”

  “The time Nathan chased that goose?”

  “And then the goose chased him.”

  “And you came to the rescue with your umbrella.”

  The woman comes to the front of the stroller and lifts a baby out. The child looks to be about a year old, and she’s determined to walk. She stands upright, measuring her new-found balance, then staggers forward for a few steps and sits down on the path with a thump. The mother turns to say something to her son, and the baby picks up pieces of gravel and begins putting them in her mouth.

  “Remember when Tally found that piece of cat shit in the sandbox?”

  “That’s what you remember from your children’s childhood?” Mimi hits me on the shoulder. “Angry geese and cat shit?”

  “We still managed to raise two pretty good kids, didn’t we?”

  “And yet here we sit on a bench in a park in Prague, feeling sorry for ourselves. Why is that?”

  The woman turns to find her baby with a mouthful of dirt and a face drawn up into the beginnings of a good scream. The older girl hurries to her sister’s side and begins using a finger to scrape the gravel out. It’s clear that this isn’t the first time the two have played this game.

  “We have a good life,” Mimi begins. “You write. I paint.”

  “I’ve stopped writing. You still paint.”

  “I do,” says Mimi. “Course, I paint the same thing over and over.”

  “Nothing wrong with water.”

  Mimi settles against me. “I’m not going to change the world.”

  The woman hikes the baby on her hip and leads the girl and her brother onto the duck dock. She takes out sandwiches and bottles from the stroller, along with a blanket. I feel my stomach rumble.

  “My paintings aren’t going to prevent wars. They’re not going to stop climate change. They’re not going to end poverty or restrain greed.”

  Eugene wanders back in our direction. I don’t want him anywhere near this discussion, but here he comes.

  “Does that mean we’re failures? The both of us?”

  I watch the woman on the dock with her three children. I wonder if there’s a father in the picture or if he has already run off. Or been killed. Maybe this is Mimi’s mother, when she was a young woman.

  Or mine.

  “Is that it?” says Mimi. “Is that what happened?”

  Eugene sits down on the end of the bench and makes himself at home.

  “Is there anything you still believe in?” says Mimi.

  Go ahead, says Eugene. Tell her the truth.

  I turn my back to Eugene. “You mean like militaristic religions, unprincipled governments, rapacious economies?”

  Eugene leans on my shoulder. Tell her about justice, he whispers.

  “What about me?” says Mimi. “Do you still have faith in me?”

  The sandwiches the woman has brought have had the crusts removed. There are sliced bananas and apples in a plastic container. She and her daughter make a game out of putting pieces of grape in the baby’s mouth.

  “Or yourself,” says Mimi. “Have you lost faith in yourself?”

  Eugene stands up and starts walking away. I don’t know where he’s going, and I don’t care.

  Mimi and I sit on the bench and watch the picnic on the duck dock. The woman has the baby tucked in against her breast, while the older girl runs from one duck head to the other, her brother hard on her heels.

  “Remember when Nathan wouldn’t go to sleep unless he was lying next to me?”

  “And every time you moved, he’d wake up.”

  “And how he’d only nurse for a couple of minutes at a time?”

  “And then we’d have to sing him back to sleep.”

  “‘Ten Little Ducks.’”

  “I should hate that song,” says Mimi, “but I don’t.”

  “Please don’t start.”

  “There’s no one around to hear us.”

  “Yeah, but there could be.”

  “And you’d be embarrassed? Singing in a park?”

  The little boy has torn part of his sandwich into pieces and throws the bits into the water. The ducks on the far side of the pond see the motion and rush over to the dock.

  “Perfect timing,” says Mimi, and she counts the ducks that cluster around the dock and the family. “Sixteen little ducks went out one day.”

  I shake my head.

  “Come on, Bird,” says Mimi. “If we don’t believe in ourselves, let’s try believing in ducks.”

  XII

  The family doesn’t stay on the dock for long. The boy and the girl begin fighting. The mother ignores them. She packs up the food, tucks the sleeping baby into the stroller, and they all head out, the boy running ahead, shouting insults back at his sister.

  “Any idea what he’s saying?”

  “What all brothers say to their sisters.” Mimi stands and stretches. “Remember when Nathan called Tally a poopy-heady?”

  I start to stand, and this is when things begin to go sideways. A wave of nausea comes out of nowhere, and my legs buckle.

  “Bird!”

  And down I go in a heap. My first emotion is embarrassment. Blackbird Mavrias, famous photojournalist now retired, collapsing in a park in Prague.

  And then I throw up.

  Mimi is immediately at my side, but I don’t really hear what she’s saying. And then more nausea and then the cramps. My face is buried in the grass. I can smell the dirt and my own vomit, and I don’t really care. All I want is to find a position for my body that doesn’t hurt.

  Mimi rubs my back. I continue retching, but now nothing is coming up, so that’s an improvement. Mimi continues to talk, and that’s when I realize that she’s not talking to me.

  “No, he’s not drunk.”

  “He is sick?”

  “Yes, he is sick.”

  I try to raise my head so that I can join the conversation, but that just brings on another wave of nau
sea.

  “He has eaten something?”

  “I don’t think so. But he’s diabetic.”

  “The blood sugars,” says a male voice. “My father is diabetic also.”

  I can feel Mimi rummaging in my pack. And then I feel a sharp pain in my finger. More nausea, but not as strong as before.

  “His blood sugars are okay,” I hear Mimi say.

  “You are sure he is not drunk.”

  I open my eyes, and what I see are two sets of scruffy runners and the cuffs of two pairs of dark pants.

  “He’s not drunk.” Mimi’s voice has hardened a bit.

  “There is a fine,” says one of the men.

  “For being sick?”

  “A public park. Fifty American dollars.”

  I angle my head. The runners and the pants are joined by light-blue shirts.

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  Two men. One tall with blond hair. The other shorter and wider, with dark hair cut tight to his head. Early twenties.

  “It is law.”

  “And we must check your money,” says the tall man.

  “There is much counterfeiting going on in our country,” says the shorter man. “This is being done by foreign tourists.”

  I get myself to a sitting position. I’m feeling better. Not good, but better.

  “And you’re the police?” says Mimi.

  “Yes, of course,” says the tall man. “Undercover.”

  “And you want me to pay a fine and you want me to give you our money so you can check it?”

  “It is police business.” The shorter man takes a badge out of his pocket and flashes it. “Or we must take you to the jail.”

  I lean back against the bench and breathe slowly.

  “Take us to jail? Because my husband is sick?”

  “Yes,” says the taller man. “Unless you pay the fine immediately.”

  “And let us check your money for counterfeits.”

  “Because you’re the police?”

  “Of course.”

  “Czech police with ridiculous accents?”

  I straighten my glasses. Now that I can see clearly, both men look younger than I would have expected. And worried. The tall one looks at the shorter one, who tries to impress Mimi with a scowl.

  I could tell him that that’s not going to work. But I don’t.

  “If you persist, we will have to take you to jail and charge you with many things.”

  Mimi puts her hands on her hips. “You know what I think,” she says, her voice sharp enough to cut bone. “I think this is a scam. I don’t believe you’re the police at all.”

  “We are the—”

  “And I’m going to start screaming as loud as I can, and we’ll see what happens when the real police arrive.”

  “Look,” says the tall man, his Czech accent all but gone. “Just give us the money.”

  I’m feeling better, and now I’m also angry. I push myself to my feet and try to flex the muscles in my chest. Hercules and the Nemean lion. Samson in the temple. Atlas hoisting the world over his head.

  “Fire!” yells Mimi.

  Both men jump.

  “Fire!”

  “Okay, okay,” says the shorter man, and he pushes his hands down in an attempt to get Mimi to lower the volume. “Give it a rest, yeah?”

  “Fire!”

  Flexing for battle isn’t a good idea. I can feel my stomach lurch forward. I put my hands on my knees and wait for the nausea to find me again.

  “Now you’ve upset Bird.”

  I’m in the middle of a dry retch and don’t see what happens next, but I hear one of the men scream.

  “My eyes!”

  “It’s just perfume,” says Mimi.

  “I’m blind!”

  “Here. Wash your eyes with this.”

  I hope Mimi isn’t giving away our water. The nausea passes, and I’m able to stand up straight. The shorter man is on the ground. The taller man is pouring water into his partner’s eyes. It’s our water, all right, and he’s using most of it.

  Mimi is standing firm, the purple perfume atomizer at the ready. “No way you two are police.”

  “You’re in a lot of trouble,” says the taller man, but his voice has lost all its conviction.

  Mimi cocks her arm, the atomizer at the ready. “Let me see that badge,” she says. “Now.”

  “All right, all right,” says the taller man, “so we’re not the police.”

  Mimi turns the badge over in her hand. “Shit,” she says, “you drew a badge on a piece of cardboard?”

  “It’s not a bad job. Nigel’s got a gift for art, yeah?”

  “Christ, Trevor,” says the short man, “don’t use our names.”

  “You’ve actually robbed other people with this?”

  “No,” says Trevor.

  “Maybe,” says Nigel. The skin around his eyes is red, but he seems to have recovered. “Couple euros here and there. What’s wrong with your husband?”

  “You should get that checked out,” says Trevor. “My old man got a bad stomach. Six months later, he’s dead.”

  “Your man probably ate something,” says Nigel. “No proper food in the whole city.”

  “Look,” says Trevor, “we’re sorry about this, but we’re broke. We blew our money and don’t have enough to get home.”

  Nigel rubs his eyes. “Trevor’s mum will send us the money for a ticket, but he don’t want to stand for the lecture.”

  “So, you rob people.”

  “Just the tourists,” says Trevor. “They don’t really care, you know. Gives them a story to tell.”

  “Yeah,” says Nigel. “Some ways, we’re doing them a favour.”

  “And if the real police catch you?”

  “Yeah,” says Trevor, “that wouldn’t be good.”

  Mimi pulls a five-euro bill out of her pocket and hands it to Trevor. “When we get back to the hotel, I’m going to report the two of you to the police. If I were you, I’d call Trevor’s mum immediately and get out of Prague.”

  “Christ,” says Nigel, “you Americans are as mad as a bag of ferrets.”

  “Canadian,” I manage to say before Mimi can leap in.

  “I thought Canadians were polite,” says Trevor.

  Nigel is on his feet. He seems none the worse for wear for having been perfumed. “What about my badge?”

  “I’m keeping it,” says Mimi, and she points the atomizer at Nigel. “The five euros is for the badge.”

  “Fair enough,” says Trevor as he and Nigel back away. “Hope your man feels better.”

  I sit down on the bench. The nausea has passed, but it has left me exhausted.

  “Is there any water left?”

  “How you feeling?”

  “Lousy.” The first sip of water is wonderful. The second is even better.

  “Don’t drink too much,” says Mimi. “It could upset your stomach.”

  I sit back and let the afternoon sun warm my face. All things considered, it feels good sitting here, doing nothing.

  “Why’d you give them money?”

  Mimi shrugs. “I felt sorry for them.”

  “They were crooks.”

  “They were kids.”

  “This part of your ‘save the world’ tour?”

  “The skinny one reminded me a little of Nathan.” Mimi puts her arm around my shoulders. “What about Eugene and the Other Demons? I’ll bet Kitty has something to say about your little episode.”

  “Nope,” I tell Mimi. “As soon as I started to puke, they took off.”

  Mimi takes out the guidebook. “As I see it, we have two choices. One, we can go back to the hotel.”

  I close my eyes and imagine we’re back in Guelph having a sandwich at Miijidaa or the Boathouse. “What’s number two?”

  “As it turns out,” says Mimi, “it’s close by.”

  “What’s close by?”

  Mimi smiles and pats my cheek. “The Prague Zoo.”

  THE YE
AR I TURNED eighteen, I stole a car. Well, technically, I didn’t steal it. It was more an unauthorized borrowing. My mother was friends with a woman whose husband was a doctor. I didn’t know Dr. Philips all that well, but what I did know was that he had a car.

  A 1960 red Plymouth Fury convertible.

  Mom didn’t have a car, couldn’t afford one. I don’t think she even had a licence. I didn’t have a licence either, but I knew how to drive.

  One of my best friends in high school was Doug Crook. Doug’s father owned a service station on Washington, and Doug and I would drive cars around his father’s lot. We’d park them, move them in and out of the service bays, take them around the block when no one was looking.

  I could drive anything. Standard. Automatic. It didn’t matter. If it had wheels and a motor, I could drive it.

  Anyway, whenever Dr. Philips and his wife went to Hawaii, they’d get my mother to collect the mail and check on the house to make sure everything was working, and they’d hire me to cut their grass and water the yard.

  And they’d leave their car in the garage, where the battery might go dead and the carbon could build up on the cylinders. So, if you looked at it from the standpoint of automotive maintenance, I was doing them a favour.

  MIMI WAS JUST KIDDING about the zoo.

  She can see that I’m not up for much, so she finds a tram that takes us near Old Town Square, and we walk back from there. The room is still hot, but I don’t care. I fall onto the bed and melt into the mattress. I can hear Mimi marching about the room.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m thinking.”

  “Thinking about what?”

  “The other things I could have said.” Mimi flops down on the bed beside me. “To Trevor and Nigel.”

  “Our young felons?”

  “Clever stuff. Cut-them-off-at-the-knees remarks. God, I wish I could do it over again.”

  “We could have gotten hurt.”

  “True enough,” says Mimi. “You were in no condition to fight them off if they had gotten physical.”

  “But they would have had to go through you to get to me.”

  “That’s sweet.” Mimi giggles. “And you know what? I’m horny.”

  “Again?”

  “It was the excitement. I think it was the excitement.”