itself, I had to hit the rock bottom of my pit before I could start clawing my way up towards the light again. But no matter how much I drank I couldn’t even begin to convince myself.
Sometime near dusk I looked around from my intoxicated self-pitying haze and realized that Talena and Saskia were nowhere to be seen and that I badly wanted the party to end. I was very tired, my clothes were thickly crusted with my own dried sweat, and I wanted to curl up and sleep. But Josip wasn’t around either, so I couldn’t even tell this to anyone, and I didn’t remember which house was Dragan’s and Saskia’s. I got another plate of roast pork and bread and cheese and, all of it dry by now but I had the vague idea that it would sober me up a little and make me stronger. I washed it down with another beer. The soccer ball came my way and on a whim I tried to play with the teenagers.
Like all Europeans they were frighteningly good and like all North Americans I was laughably bad. After clumsily stepping on the ball and tumbling onto the street, scraping my hand and cuing a stinging chorus of mocking laughter, I retreated back to the vacant lot next to the food tables, found a rotting concrete block in the weeds, and sat atop it for awhile. Nobody paid me any attention. By this time everyone was too drunk to feign interest in their Honoured Canadian Guest. That suited me fine.
I vaguely noticed that the party had escalated into loud ragged laughter, short emotional bursts of song, men grabbing women and kissing them roughly, brief impassioned arguments. I watched as one of the Tigers, the one with a prosthetic leg, drunkenly tried to make the teenagers march like they were soldiers and shouted at them, spittle flying from his mouth, when they refused. Instead of laughing at him they backed quietly away. A woman hesitantly approached the one-legged man and gently tried to convince him to leave the kids alone. He rewarded her with a shove that sent her sprawling to the street. Nobody seemed to notice or care as she scrambled to her feet and retreated to her plastic chair with a newly skinned elbow, tears staining her face. I wondered if they were married.
“Paul,” Talena said.
I jerked with surprise and looked up at her. She and Saskia had returned from somewhere. I had a dim notion that they had been gone for hours. Saskia’s eyes were red with tears and she clutched Talena’s arm as if she would collapse without its support. She looked like a child next to Talena, who was eight or nine inches taller. Talena was pale and tense, and I could tell she had been crying too.
“What happened?” I asked.
She shook her head. “You’re drunk.”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “Shit. Yeah, a little, I guess.”
“That’s great,” she said. “That’s just fucking great. You go get drunk.”
“What happened?”
“You fucking – I can’t rely on you, you know that? I used to think I could rely on you.”
I was drunkenly confident that her anger was unjustified, so I’d had one beer too many, it was a Bosnian party that started at noon, what the hell did she expect in this nation of alcoholics? I nearly said that, nearly picked a fight with her. Only the sight of Saskia, drained and despairing, prevented me.
“We’re going to bed,” Talena said. “Don’t wake me up when you come in. If you come in. You can sleep out here for all I give a shit.”
“Okay,” I said, and watched her depart. I wanted to follow and find out what terrible thing had happened. It occurred to me that maybe she wouldn’t tell me, not even tomorrow when I was sober and we were alone together. We had grown far enough apart that that was possible.
Darkness fell. Women and children began to drift back to their homes, or to the half-ruined buildings which passed for them, but the Tigers remained, standing in a cluster in the middle of the street, circulating their umpteenth
Sometime near dusk I looked around from my intoxicated self-pitying haze and realized that Talena and Saskia were nowhere to be seen and that I badly wanted the party to end. I was very tired, my clothes were thickly crusted with my own dried sweat, and I wanted to curl up and sleep. But Josip wasn’t around either, so I couldn’t even tell this to anyone, and I didn’t remember which house was Dragan’s and Saskia’s. I got another plate of roast pork and bread and cheese and, all of it dry by now but I had the vague idea that it would sober me up a little and make me stronger. I washed it down with another beer. The soccer ball came my way and on a whim I tried to play with the teenagers.
Like all Europeans they were frighteningly good and like all North Americans I was laughably bad. After clumsily stepping on the ball and tumbling onto the street, scraping my hand and cuing a stinging chorus of mocking laughter, I retreated back to the vacant lot next to the food tables, found a rotting concrete block in the weeds, and sat atop it for awhile. Nobody paid me any attention. By this time everyone was too drunk to feign interest in their Honoured Canadian Guest. That suited me fine.
I vaguely noticed that the party had escalated into loud ragged laughter, short emotional bursts of song, men grabbing women and kissing them roughly, brief impassioned arguments. I watched as one of the Tigers, the one with a prosthetic leg, drunkenly tried to make the teenagers march like they were soldiers and shouted at them, spittle flying from his mouth, when they refused. Instead of laughing at him they backed quietly away. A woman hesitantly approached the one-legged man and gently tried to convince him to leave the kids alone. He rewarded her with a shove that sent her sprawling to the street. Nobody seemed to notice or care as she scrambled to her feet and retreated to her plastic chair with a newly skinned elbow, tears staining her face. I wondered if they were married.
“Paul,” Talena said.
I jerked with surprise and looked up at her. She and Saskia had returned from somewhere. I had a dim notion that they had been gone for hours. Saskia’s eyes were red with tears and she clutched Talena’s arm as if she would collapse without its support. She looked like a child next to Talena, who was eight or nine inches taller. Talena was pale and tense, and I could tell she had been crying too.
“What happened?” I asked.
She shook her head. “You’re drunk.”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “Shit. Yeah, a little, I guess.”
“That’s great,” she said. “That’s just fucking great. You go get drunk.”
“What happened?”
“You fucking – I can’t rely on you, you know that? I used to think I could rely on you.”
I was drunkenly confident that her anger was unjustified, so I’d had one beer too many, it was a Bosnian party that started at noon, what the hell did she expect in this nation of alcoholics? I nearly said that, nearly picked a fight with her. Only the sight of Saskia, drained and despairing, prevented me.
“We’re going to bed,” Talena said. “Don’t wake me up when you come in. If you come in. You can sleep out here for all I give a shit.”
“Okay,” I said, and watched her depart. I wanted to follow and find out what terrible thing had happened. It occurred to me that maybe she wouldn’t tell me, not even tomorrow when I was sober and we were alone together. We had grown far enough apart that that was possible.
Darkness fell. Women and children began to drift back to their homes, or to the half-ruined buildings which passed for them, but the Tigers remained, standing in a cluster in the middle of the street, circulating their umpteenth
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